Wifey. Yes, I'm going there. The title has stuck to my veins the minute I let a boy three years older then me snatch me up and make me his dinner. What a stupid bitch. I've only had three relationships-three very long relationships. Two that made me cry dry, and One that left a bitter taste and stretch marks to my hips. All three I adore in different ways, all three I was faithful, loving, and protective.An idiot.
So, why is it that the one's we admire are the one's that we clearly wasn't wifey with..We let our imperfections out and didn't give a fuck if they love us, hurt us.. But in some odd way they manage to have a hold on us. They figured us out better then the guy we shared a bed with. Nothing but laughs,games,a bond. How does that happen? How does someone who we went into knowing nothing can ever happen.Teach us, ooh so much more- then the guys we spent years with. Be able to tell us the dimples they've missed, or the habits we do in minutes. Rather then years. We leave the guys we pored our hearts to with anger but the one's who never tried forever in bliss. How does wifey become meaningless when title-less holds so much more worth in our heart.
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