Slip of the tongue.

I fucked up and I don't know how it happened. That's a lie; I do know how it happened. There was alcohol involved. But that's a give-in. Alcohol is always involved when it comes to my fucked-up decision-making. But I wouldn't have done what I did if I hadn't been drinking. I know this for a fact.

See, your names are similar, that's all. And when we, (myself and the unspoken her), for that split second of a few weeks when we were together/seeing each other/hooking up, I said her name A LOT. I didn't tell you this because I knew it would upset you. But I did, I can’t deny that it happened. I said her name in bed. I said her name repeatedly when I was making fun of her. I said her name because it was unique and fun to say. It was our small little joke we had. The only one, really. This was before I knew you, before I knew you even existed.
So when I said her name last night, instead of yours, I knew it was a mistake. But you really can't blame me.

I clung to you, pinning you down by your arms, on top of you, begging you to stay. I apologized, over and over and over again. "She doesn't mean anything to me"/"It was a mistake"/"I'm so sorry"/"I'd do anything to take it back". But you didn't listen. You left. With good reason.

“These things only happen in movies and bad romance novels,” I thought while struggling to fall asleep. I called you, you answered after the fifth attempt. Slurring into the phone, I recognized how much of an asshole I am. “I’d give you the world on a tray” You hung up on me and I slept restlessly.

Miraculously, you called me this morning. You had left your keys in my bedroom. We agreed to get breakfast. "I don't know if I can touch you or not" I had said on the drive there. We did touch eventually, fingers brushing fingers, while I sipped my coffee, avoiding each other’s eyes. I apologized again. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. It was my mantra.

We were tired and hung over and in need of rest. You invited me for a nap. I said yes.

I left. Still not knowing how to feel.