This is the third installment of reader submitted Breaking Up stories from hell. If you have one, send it to me at the email found in my profile on the sidebar. Under 500 words and you can remain anonymous, as the reader below did.
There are times when a person wants out of a relationship but doesn't want to do the actual breaking up. What they'll do is manipulate the other person into breaking up with them. It's human nature, at least I think it is. I’m not proud to admit it, but I've done it…more than once. So I wasn’t surprised when karma caught up with me and a woman got me to break up with her. What's remarkable is how she did it: By describing how she ended a relationship with another guy.
A little history: This was not the healthiest of relationships. I’ve been an alcoholic all of my adult life. It’s never done me any good and about 10 years ago, I hit absolute bottom. The only choice I had was to get sober.
I’d put together about 8 months of sobriety and got a new job. I pretty much felt like I had my problem solved. A ridiculous set of circumstances led me to a bar in a trendy part of town. Of course I started drinking. I also struck up a conversation with a cute woman that was there.
We hit it off immediately. We shared a lot of interests: Books, music, movies. Beer. We started seeing each other every day. We drank every day. We had fantastic, amazing drunken sex. We had deep philosophical debates about fictional characters and history. We took turns outdrinking each other. We went everywhere together, drank everywhere together, and usually ended up banging each other in the washroom or alley or backyard.
She was the woman of my dreams.
But I was a little more serious about the ‘relationship’ than she was. Even though we never had time for anyone else, she didn’t “commit” to the relationship other than physically. She never came out and said it: I was head over heels for her but she didn’t share those emotions. I was a fuck who always paid the bar tab.
Not that I really minded, until she started quietly distancing herself from me. It started with a day or two apart. Sometimes she’d pay more attention to other guys at the bar. Sometimes she’d blatantly flirt.
Soon, we had THE TALK. I asked what this thing really was. I got the strangest response. It wasn’t an “I’m telling you my deepest darkest secret to emotionally open up to you” response. It felt like a prepared speech. Or a threat.
“Let me tell you a story. When I was younger, I spent the Summer with my mom down in Mexico. I started seeing this guy. One night we got into an argument and I decided I needed to break it off. A bus was getting ready to leave. So I got on the bus. With fifteen guys.”
“…And I couldn’t walk for three days after.”
Of course I told her it didn’t matter. Of course, it did. I couldn’t take it mentally. It was like a ricochet in my brain that I’d never be able to forget, and I’m positive that’s exactly what it was supposed to be. I broke up about a week later.