Fine. I admit it. I’ve officially become that guy. The deranged former lover that shows up at her door with flowers in one hand and a naughty bedroom toy in the other. The dirty little secret that she won’t tell her friends. The shoulder she used to cry on that is still there whether she wants it or not. The psycho ex-boyfriend who just won’t take no for an answer.
Sometimes the one that got away can’t let you go.
Yeah, I stalk her every move. I know where she goes, what she does, and who she’s with. And if I find out that she’s with another guy, he won’t be around for long. She belongs to me. Always has, always will. She just doesn’t know it yet and I won’t stop until she does.
Am I out of line? Perhaps. Do I care? Hell no. I’ve never stopped loving her. It’s her fault for making me feel something in the first place.