The other night the bf and I were sitting around on my bed chatting, listening to music, drinking and stuff, and just having the best fucking time. We were laughing and kissing and carrying on. It was blissful. Then we both suddenly got quiet, and I started thinking about how guilty I still feel about the fact that I was never so happy with my ex. Before I could say anything, Dave told me that he had, in fact, been thinking that same thing.
It gets easier with time, but I don’t think this is the sort of thing you ever really get over. And that’s okay. I don’t want to get over it. I do, however, hope that he finds the same happiness I have found. Her, too.