It started small. I never thought it would get to where we are now.
My boyfriend got a text from his ex, and he immediately panicked that I would think he had encouraged it or asked for it or been involved at all really.
We were drinking and smoking together, sitting at a little table in the backyard, and he suddenly dropped his head into his hands.
"What's wrong?" I said.
"How'd you immediately know something was wrong?" he asked with a pained voice.
"Well, I mean, it's all over you. What is it?" and that's when he told me. She sent him a picture of her in her underwear, a little lacey number, and I expected to feel repulsed or upset, but instead the blood rushed to my cheeks and it excited me.
She was an ex model, which sounds so cliche, but of course she was tall, thin, and blonde, and I am...not. I'm 5"2 with red hair and some extra weight on my curves. It turned out she was going to be in our city, a city he had left after dating her for a few months, to be with me. We dated in high school and it was on and off again for the better part of a decade. She was coming to our city, and she wanted to show him what he was missing.