2015: So, I had this unshakable rule: no boyfriend drama was allowed to crash the family party. Family was the VIP guest list, no exceptions—even with Heartbreaker’s ongoing jackassery. But then the boyfriend started turning into a bit of a diva. He lived in Georgia, and whenever he visited his family, I turned into a stealth ninja—waiting for Heartbreaker to head to work at 4 a.m., then sneaking off to see Mr. Boyfriend at 5 a.m., staying until late morning. Since visits were rare, his crappy behavior was easy to ignore—I mean, I already had enough drama at home, didn’t want a side order of BS. Oh, and don’t judge, but yes, he was married too, in a sort of “open-ish” relationship as far as I knew. So things were chill, long-distance style, until… he moved back home. Cue ominous music.

2017: Boyfriend pulled a classic “let’s leave the wife over something dumb” move, came back to town with no job and zero plans. Surprise, surprise, living in the same zip code turned the situation from bad to “oh no, what did I do?” The weird part? I actually thought having him nearby might be nice. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. Sure, sometimes it was pleasant, but mostly it was like dating a demanding teenager who forgot I wasn’t 16 anymore. His opinion was the only one that mattered, and my soul started doing somersaults in despair. Honestly, I have no clue why I stuck with either relationship, but hey—I loved them both. Yes, I’m a glutton for punishment.

2020: Enter the chaos of 2020, aka the pandemic apocalypse. I’m skipping the emotional rollercoaster on that one and moving on. Suddenly Heartbreaker’s working from home—at first, it was kinda cool. We actually talked without his “extra personalities” crashing the party. But bedroom action? Nonexistent. Every time I initiated (which was always me, FYI), he’d playfully push me away—not in a mean way, just annoying enough to make me suspicious. And boy, did I find out the truth. If you’re seeing someone, just tell me! Don’t make me play detective; I’m good at it and I will find out. It wasn’t about him having a girlfriend—it was about him not handling my “enthusiastic” libido or the noises I made with someone else. Basically, if he could have a girlfriend and do all the things he wouldn’t do with me, what was I even doing there? That’s why I had a boyfriend in the first place: for the sexy times and the “forever in love” gazes. Over those eight years, I should’ve dumped both the husband and the boyfriend, gone solo and rocked it. But I stayed, not wanting bad blood. Realizing what I did made me truly realize that Heartbreaker was more of a plot twist than the happily-ever-after husband I thought I’d married!