And I can't even say anything because he didn't ask me to do it. I did it. I did it because I chose to. And he's not obligated to appreciate it.
But why is that?
What is it that with a lot of men they can hurt you, in big ways and small ones, like thorns on a rose that prick you and bleed you. But they do one big grand gesture and you're supposed to reciprocate, you're supposed to forget, you're supposed to ignore the blood you've bled.
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