He was the kind of man who loved you like no one else existed, but only as long as you stayed a secret. Because he had more secrets that he also loved like no one else existed, yet each thought they were the one and only. That’s the loneliest kind of love, with the cruelest lessons. And you only learn the hard way after he makes all of you feel like it’s your fault, until you get together, compare notes, and realize it was never love at all but the sick art of a con artist. And you always thought the way he said your name was special until you met the others who thought they were special too. Well, you always were special, love. It’s him who never was.