I read his text messages. Ever single one. I hate that I did, because when you look you will definitely find something...I didn't want to know the truth. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.
He would text when we were together... "thinking of u", "wish u were here", "where u @?", "what's up w/ u later" etc. Oh, and then there were the good old sexts...they were all pretty explicit and detailed... Why? Was he really thinking of them? Or was it just a game? Did he really wish she was there? Or was it just about getting his dick sucked?
I mean he wouldn't even lie about where he was or what he was doing, just that he wasn't with me. I was so stupid, to think it was just me. And reading them made me feel even more stupid. The missing times, dates, and places began to fall into place. The supposed meetings turned into sexapades and conference calls tuned into phone sex. I was none the wiser.
The model, the bartender, the Ethiopian, the dancer/yoga instructor, the purse designer/hospital supervisor, the one who loved to give head, the one who loved it in her ass... And so many more...wish I would've read the text messages ALOT sooner!!!!
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