He awakens with her on his mental. First thing in the morning, you think he's about to drape his arm across you to snuggle, but naw. He's merely reaching over you for his device, charging on the nightstand beside you. She's his default. YOU'RE the distraction. He basks in her blue magnetism so frequently during your "quality time" that you feel like the side piece. When you strike up conversation, you get the distinct feeling that you're interrupting. He pats his pocket to ensure she doesn't wander. As if she isn't noisier than a pet parakeet, pinging every minute to validate his latest post. She goes with him to the toilet. Traditionally, you're quite okay that he doesn't invite you to join him in the bathroom while he blows it up, but somehow you feel some type of way that she gets to take a whiff! He bares his soul to her. He tells you rather nonchalantly that an acquaintance he hadn't seen in a long time died in a tragic accident. So why's he telling her how heartbroken he feels by the loss? You're the third wheel on all your dates. There she is, on the dinner table smack between you, lighting up his face with her persistent radiance. Threesomes without your permission? While on the phone, you notice his responses are a bit...delayed. Only to find out later he was posting sweet nothings in her feed as you were telling him all about your exciting day. Every moment is a photo-op. Except for the moments with you in them, that is. But best believe she is totally up on what he eating, juicing, reading, watching and wearing... every damn day. He vents to her about your fights. He hasn't announced that he's in a relationship with you, but he definitely airs out your dirty laundry to her when your shit's on tilt. He snuggles with her to sleep, while you shiver beside him. Most nights, you close your eyes to his back, as he slides his finger down her spine.