Once upon a time there was a very happy couple. They dined
together. They went to the mountains together. They lived in ecstatic bliss for eight months. One man, who had ginger like qualities, started to give his partner space in his house. First a drawer. Than two drawers. One day he said, “I have a surprise for you.”
To his astonishment the ginger had cleared a space in the closet for him. He felt apprized at the situation and started leaving clothing in the closet. The ginger had friends. They were all aspects of different. They were all judgmental of the gingers boyfriend. They filled his head with scenarios of deceit, and cheating. One day the bliss shattered into a million pieces. The ginger accused him of not loving him. Porn was the culprit.
For two whole days the ginger said nothing. The ginger never called. He had silenced all communications. One day the ginger called and gave his x-boyfriend 30 minutes to collect all his possessions. First the boy had a flat tire. Than had to stop for gas. by the time he made it to ye old firestone, Colorado all of his things had been boxed up and placed on the front lawn.
On the porch was the ginger, drinking mimosa’s with the neighbor as the x-boyfriend placed everything in his mother’s car. As they finished packing, there was no room for the x boyfriend. He had to walk from Firestone to Longmont and it was eight five degrees outside.
Periodically the ginger would drop other things off to the x-boyfriend. He noticed he no underwear, and the jeans that made his but look amazing were gone as well. Months went by and the x-boyfriend had forgotten about his jeans. Until one day, the front desk phone rings at the hotel where he worked.
“Are you working?” asked the gingers familiar voice.
He had brought all his underwear and jeans back. He didn’t say a word as the x-boyfriend carried the box inside. Lifting the lid he found everything nicely folded. With out wasting time he threw everything into the industrial washing machine; he wasn’t going to be too careful. At the bottom was his touch I-pod. the screen was shattered, and it had been backed over by a car; tire impressions on the back. He decided not to tell the ginger; and if he ever asked he would say, “What I-pod? There was no I-pod.”
Moral of the story: You can give a man space in your life, and say you want him there, but can you trust that space?