I can't describe to you how surprised I was to find out I loved her, old sport. I even hoped for a while that she'd throw me over, but she didn't, because she was in love with me too.

I don't believe in love. Not really.
Once upon a time, I loved someone very much. I believed in it. I asked him if he loved me. He said he used to love me, but that he didn't now. That he didn't anymore. That he didnt love me. I always thought it would be permanent. That it ought to stick around for awhile- forever, and it shouldn't just pick up its bags one day and fall off the back of the black Audi hatchback in the left lane of the New Jersey turnpike. I was okay when he got hickeys and played games and had me scratch the hickey off his neck with a hairbrush. Because I had done some stuff too, but I still believed in love and I still loved that kid and he didn't, he didn't love me anymore.
And I started thinking.
One of them had said they loved me forever and then told me I was the worst thing that had ever happened in his life. So maybe that wasn't true.
One of them had said they loved me completely since forever that he knew me but his little friend didn't feel the same. So maybe that wasn't the whole truth.