HER: DAY 31

At this point, honestly, I’m just over it. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t handle him. He’s scary and emotional and volatile. He’s a ticking fucking time bomb. I need space for myself. I need to grow. I can’t stay in this stunted mid 20s wonderland for the entirety of my existence. I can’t wallow with him here in this adulthood waiting room. I need to move on. Even his stupid name is childish. Who still goes by the nickname that they were given in middle school? There was a reason your parents gave you a decent name and it’s definitely not so you could go by some schoolyard calling card bestowed upon you at the ripe age of 13. You know, the worst part is, he wasn’t always like this? He used to be so sensitive and in tune with himself. He used to be dapper and wide-eyed. He would be shocked at every little thing I did, it was the innocence in him, it used to occupy the wealth of his being, humming through his veins and exuding out of his pores. Now all he reeks of is jaded desperation. He wasn’t always like this. I suppose I could take the blame for it. The night we met I told him I was an escort, as a joke, to see how he would react, when I saw the fear, shock and disdain in his gaze, I immediately retracted my statement. That night I actually ditched a client to be with him, just walked straight out of the middle of an engagement, it’s a good thing I didn’t work for an agency. I would have been fired, like five alarm fired. I don’t know why it happened. Seeing him in the middle of that bar, gaze fixed on me, looking semi-uncomfortable, his eyes bore holes in my skin, making me uneasy and uncaring all at once. My arm entwined with another man’s felt alien at that point, it felt uncomfortable, unnerving and unjustified. I needed to be anywhere but in this position. I needed a shot. I needed him to do a shot. I wanted to do a shot with him. His nose was crooked. That was the first thing I noticed, it was bent like a nose that was never set by the doctor after it was broken in some bar fight, I clung to that belief for most of the time we dated, until I met his father and the direction of his nose made perfect sense. The off kilter shape had been passed down from generation to generation on his father’s side, arriving directly to him. A strong trait, a dominant trait, a trait I knew I would not want to pass on to our children. Maybe that was the day. Maybe the day that I met is father was the day I knew I was not going to spend much longer with him. But how do you tell someone that their bloodlines, their chemical and physical makeup is not something you can picture yourself settling down with or making a life with. How do you break up with someone for everything they are and everything they can’t be?

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