He Loved Me on Weekdays

He loved me on weekdays

when it was quiet and he was alone

and it wasn't socially appropriate to get fucked during the workweek

or he probably would have loved that instead


He loved me on weekdays

when he cared for his family and

spent time with his closest friends

when he was sober enough to 

comprehend the effort of cultivating a semi-lasting relationship with someone else

because if he had the choice, he wouldn't do it sober


He loved me on weekdays

when he liked to wake up to me first thing in the morning,

having someone to curl up with when it was rainy and frigid

and he didn't want to go to work

and wanted to hide under pillowy blankets instead


He loved me on weekdays

when it was easy to love.

Life can rapidly change on weekends, and he didn’t have enough strength 

to know what it was like to love through a weekend

because he never remembered the weekends


He loved me on weekdays

because weekdays didn’t require introductions

or making decisions of who to balance plans with 

or limiting the amount of substances one could take in a given period of time,

sacrifices people make for the ones they love. 


He loved me on weekdays

when he liked to pretend he was grown up 

because it was socially expected of him.

On the weekends, he didn’t have to act his age. 


He loved me on weekdays

because he wanted someone to pass the time with

because he had yet to find a passion other than

looking forward to the weekends.


And when I realized he loved me only on weekdays, 

that was when I decided to start living my life 

without him on the weekends.

At some point in time, 

a person has to value their self-worth

and sever ties with people who haven’t learned how to love on the weekends. 

Life is too short to love someone

only on the weekdays. 


This piece has been published on Thought Catalog. You can view the published version here

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