There are just some people who find their way into the crawl space in your heart and squat there. I am not really sure how they find their way inside. But they do and they never ask permission to stay. People like The Heartbreaker just set up camp and live there in your absence, occasionally poking at your ribs to let you know it’s freezing in here, would you mind turning up the heat? Sometimes you manage to reclaim the space. Clean up their mess and replace the locks. You go out on dates and find a someone else you consider unlocking the door for. But three months later, there he is. Eating your chips and asking why you left the back door open again. Anyone could get in. You’ve got to be more careful.
And so you just hang your head knowing that there is something comforting about how easily it is for this person to come back into your world. How he knows just where you keep the chocolate and which steps creak just so. And there is something kind of devastating when you get used to his presence and the day you go upstairs to hand over your spare key and find only cobwebs and a boarded up room. Even though he says he hasn’t taken up residency with anyone else, you wonder where he goes in between visits. And if he kind of misses you too.