“Oh, honey, I’m home!” I announce as I walk into the living room of my apartment. I’d just spent the whole day at the studio with the boys and I’m in major need of relaxation with you.

We’ve been together for a few months and it’s going great. Spending all the time we have together until I eventually will have to hit the road again. After my messy, and very public, breakup last year, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for a new relationship. Ever. But with you, it just came easily.

I spot you on the couch, bundled up with the TV muted in front of you. When you feel my presence, you turn your phone upside down and place it on the couch.

Well, that doesn’t make me feel very good.

I sit down beside you, kicking my shoes off, acting as is the soul crushing suspicion isn’t eating me alive. Were you messaging someone else?

“Whatcha lookin at?” I snatch your phone before you can protest. My exes Wikipedia page? A weird feeling floods my system. “Babe, why are you looking at this? Again? It’s like you’re obsessed with hurting yourself.”