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I miss kissing. I miss the way lips smash over lips messily and awkwardly, while hands fumble for sweet, tender flesh but manage to get pushed away onto mounds of baby fat. I miss hugs. I miss the way arms folded around arms folded around over hips folded around over my waist. I miss talking to you on the phone every night. I miss the way you attempted to get me to have phone sex with you that one time and then I just spent the whole time stifling laughter as your moans resonated through telephone wires and invisible communication waves.

I don’t miss being in love. I don’t miss how helpless I felt even though you decided to screw me over time and time again.