So many times before

“Believe me, if I’d find a way, I would,” she whispered softly into the cool air. Her eyes searched those of her companion, who was sitting right beside her.

“I don’t get it. You know I love you, but I just don’t get it. Do you love him?” Her voice sounded desparate.

A silence fell and only the crickets could be heard. They were sitting on the back porch of her house, where her lover once again had found a refuge from her own house and, more importantly, her boyfriend.

“Not anymore. You have to understand that I have been with him for all these years now and I can’t break up just like that without any reason.”

“You’ve grown used to him, to being with him, I see that. But why wouldn’t you change, discover something new?”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?”

“No,” she said harshly. Her patience was wearing thin and she didn’t know how much longer she could take her leading a double life. “You’re exploring something, but you don’t give yourself fully. You attach a part of yourself to him, that bloody swine doesn’t even deserve it!”

“Don’t call him that,” she was quick to defend him. “You don’t know him.”

“You have told me enough about him. I don’t understand what ties you to him. The years? The memories? Hardly any happy memories, are there?”

“No, but… my parents do love him.”

“Surely you should live your life only to please the people who have never given you any respect or trust. Didn’t you move all the way here to be away from them? How much do you even see your parents? Twice a year?”

“No, it’s… you don’t understand. How can you understand? You’ve always been gay and -”

“And exactly how would you know? In case you haven’t noticed, we hardly talk about me. We hardly talk about anything but you and your miserable boyfriend you always complain about but don’t have the fucking guts to leave! We do that and have sex. That’s fun, but I want more. God, how many times do you want me to tell you I love you? How many times do you want to hear how much I want to spend my life with you?”