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I Think My Boyfriend Is Going To Leave Me Because I Keep Talking About Him On The Internet

I Think My Boyfriend Is Going To Leave Me Because I Keep Talking About Him On The Internet

You guys are on to me.

I thought I could pull a fast one on you, but it’s pretty apparent that I can’t. So, I admit it. You figured me out. I’m busted. Done. Finished. And it’s all thanks to that stupid wheelchair column that I wrote.

Sure, it was actually the third piece I had written for PGP since my Grandex hiatus, but those little details don’t matter. This is when I had decided to start planting the seed. In the comments, it was asked whether or not I had written that piece just to let everyone know that I had a boyfriend. The obvious answer, of course, was yes. Why else would I write it? To highlight something I thought was interesting? To look like a piece of shit who doesn’t understand the implications of being handicapped? No. I did it to brag that I’m in a relationship.

But the truth? It goes much deeper than that. So, I’m just going to lay it all out there because, at this point, I have nothing to lose.

I didn’t just write that piece to let everyone know that I have a boyfriend. First, I had to break my ankle. Was it all part of the ploy? Falling down the stairs? Did I do it just so that anyone who reads a piece by me can know that I’ve been in a relationship for 3.5 years with my live-in boyfriend and that things are pretty serious?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

But so what, right? So, I’m a dumb girl who decided that spending $5,000 in medical bills was worth it so I could mention that I was ~taken~ in an article. That’s old news. Every female in the world has pulled that move before.

No. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth is that I’ve been doing all of this just to brag about my relationship. It’s been one big giant conspiracy theory, and it’s finally crashing down around me.

In college, I was just your average piece of shit girl. I had, as Dan Regester would say, the personality of a wet paper towel. I wouldn’t just Man Crush my Man on Monday. I’d Man Crush him every day. Selfies were as a part of our lives as much as blow jobs were not, and if I didn’t post an Elite Daily article about how to tell that you’ve found ~the one~ on his wall at least twice a week, I’d feel like I’d failed in my relationship.

After all of that, though, it wasn’t enough. How could I be sure that he would stick around? There’s only so many times you can send the fucking bunny Snapchat filter to your guy before he starts wondering if he’s attracted to you or to animals. No, I needed to do something bigger. Better.

So, I started writing. I found Total Sorority Move when one of my sisters shared a post on Facebook, and I figured that it would be the perfect way to get my message out there. For three years, I wrote 2-3 pieces of content a day. I’d drop hints that I was in a relationship, but no one ever caught on. No one ever realized that the whole reason I became a writer, the whole reason I moved to Austin and started dropping articles left and right for different sites was for one purpose and one purpose only: so random people on the internet would know that I’m in a relationship.

But fuck, guys. You outed me. And now? I think my relationship might be over.

Everything was going fine. My boyfriend had no idea just how much I was talking about him online. He was never much into social media, and once things got serious and he moved in with me, I made certain he didn’t read my writing. Sure, the fact that I called him “hubby” seemed to annoy him, and he hated that I would tell people that we were basically married but that he was waiting to buy me the ring I deserve.

Whatever, though. It was fine. He put up with it because I have long-ish hair and I’ve pretended that I would consider trying anal “with the right person” since we first got together. Put those two together and he basically didn’t even have a choice.

Now that my secret is out, however, he’s starting to act strangely. I hate to say it, but I think he might be trying to leave me. And honestly. I fucking blame all of you.

Yesterday, a comment blew up on my vomiting piece (which, mind you, was not the first time that I didn’t mention my boyfriend. For some reason, I completely forgot to bring up my relationship status in my piece about our parents getting older. That was totally my mistake). Anyway, this was the comment that ruined my life.

I Think My Boyfriend Is Going To Leave Me Because I Keep Talking About Him On The Internet

Cute? Yes. But detrimental? Also, yes. You see, every day I give him about fifteen minutes of internet time. Most sites are blocked, but I had forgotten to block PGP because I’ve only been writing on here for a few weeks. I’m pretty sure he read that piece and now, it’s like something has changed in him.

Before, whenever I’d unlock the basement door for feeding time, he greeting me with broken indifference. Sometimes, if I brought him a steak or a beer he’d even give me a dry kiss on the cheek. Things were perfect, I tell you! But yesterday, for the first time in years, I saw a fire in his eyes.

Instead of just sitting patiently and waiting for his meal, he started pulling on his chains and screaming. At ME. His girlfriend, who takes such good care of him. It’s honestly so fucking rude. More than that, it’s scary. I’m afraid everything I’ve worked so hard to build for *us* is going to be ruined.

The thing he doesn’t understand is that I’m doing all of this out of love! I bring him up in my articles every once in a while because relationships happen to be somewhat relatable. I got his name tattooed on my thigh because our love is more important than flesh, vanity, or the ability to wear shorts. And I keep him locked up in the basement with limited entertainment and What’s New Pussycat playing on a loop because I love him, okay? I love him.

And if he leaves me, you have no one to blame but yourselves.

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Rachel Varina

if it doesn't have snack or seats, i'm not there.

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