We’d dressed as Harley Quinn and the Joker for my work party. It was an early October Halloween one, and I’d been excited, even put together a really good costume, but as we were about to get out of the car, his phone had beeped with a text.
I didn’t think much of it when I grabbed it off the seat for him, but when the screen flashed a pair of completely fake breasts at me, I had to tap the message open.
Who wouldn’t?
Text after text after text came up.
Gerald Johnson III was everything I’d wished for. Kind of. The neat box of emotions I’d built for myself really complimented his even-keel attitude. He was your average working man with soft cheeks and blond hair, a quiet demeanor, and was amicable to almost everyone he met. I’d thought everything about him other than his job was perfect. He had work trips that took him around the world. But his father owned a big investment firm, and that’s what they had to do—or at least, that’s what he told me.
And it’s not like I didn't trust him. I’d been on the trips. He’d shown me he was truly working on them.
Or so I’d thought.
His last trip had been two whole months long, and two weeks into him returning home, he wanted nothing to do with me. So much so that I started to question if I was good enough, if something was wrong with me. Had I pushed him away?
Which, now I’d like to say, was absolutely legitimate, considering the texts. But it wasn’t my fault. It was his. I held the phone up for him to see, only for him to reply with that line. “It’s not me. It’s you.”
My fault? How was him cheating on me my fault?
“It’s me?” I squeaked out, the lid of the jar that kept my dark side locked away turning just a bit. “Let me guess, I drove you to message this Lucy girl your dick on a platter. A platter, Gerald! Really?”
He shook his head full of blond hair and frowned at me with puppy eyes I used to think were cute. “Baby, I didn’t want you to find out this way, but honestly, do you think I wanted to come home to this?”
He motioned at me. I peered down at myself, not exactly sure what he meant.
“I told you I needed you to try harder with this workout thing and to let loose a little. Instead, you didn’t try at all.”
My heart dropped as my blood pressure skyrocketed. Break ups were always a mixed bag of anger and sadness but this time I was clinging to the anger.
I geared up to tell him off, but he kept going instead of letting me talk. “Don’t get me wrong—I love how you look. I do. But you know I have a standard to uphold. I need a girl who’s going to look the part. Lucy does. And you won’t even drink much with me at our charity events. You know that my dad’s company really needs me to have a social butterfly on my arm. I think we just need a bit of time apart for you to work on that.”
“A bit of time apart?” I sounded like a broken record repeating what he said. Did he think we could get back together after this? Was I dating that much of an idiot?
He'd come home, yet his mind was still far away. I couldn't even get his attention long enough for a good lay, not that he was ever that great in bed. Sleeping with him was trying to scratch an itch that was just a centimeter out of reach. But I'd been celibate for two months and I needed to stop that dry spell.
Now, he was trying to tell me I was no fun.
“Look, I don’t want things to end this way. Maybe we can work on it.” His brow furrowed while he tried to make puppy dog eyes at me.
“Oh really? Should we text Lucy then and tell her you’re done with—”
“No!” he yelped and grabbed his phone away. “It’s . . . why don’t we do this? I’m only breaking up with you for now. Like I said, I’ve always enjoyed you, Izzy. Just…honestly, I’ve been talking with my father and some of my friends. We think maybe you need to lose a few pounds before we get married, get into a better place where you don’t work so hard and can be on my arm a little more, you know? It’ll be good for us to take a break, date around, and circle back—”
“Gerald, I do not want to marry you.” I blurted out, my body cringing at the idea. Then, I enunciated each word, trying to make clear that this relationship was over. “And I don’t want to work on things.”
“Look, I know you’re mad. But remember what your therapist said.”
My eyes bulged. Was he really going down that road? If so, I think my therapist would have understood if I’d clawed his face apart right then. The jar creaked open a bit farther.
“See. You’re getting mad. You do have a temper and a tendency to react when you’re hurt. So I have to deal with that too. It’s a lot. How do you think it feels for me to be dating an addict, Izzy?”
There it was. The thing he’d always promised me didn’t matter. He promised to not use it against me and the motherfucker just did. “But, Gerald, you said—”
“I know what I said. I meant it. It’s just really hard to have a good time when I know you can’t drink too much or indulge in new things because you’re scared of your ‘addictive personality.’” He air quoted himself like it wasn’t a real thing. “Lucy is a nice breath of fresh air on the side. If you met her, you’d understand. We should all get brunch—it might smooth things over a bit.”
Nope.
I’d sort of always known this guy wasn’t the one for me. I should have had butterflies when he kissed me, right?
I should have wanted him home early from a work trip rather than for him to stay another day.
I should have, but I never did.
Everything with him was mediocre, but I’d tried. I’d stopped myself from breaking up with him time and time again because I knew that some things weren’t meant to be only emotional highs or lows. If I didn’t miss him when he was gone, so what? That was me being an adult and handling our separation maturely.
Now, though, it all made sense. “I’m going to go ahead and make this easy for you. We’re done.”
“Sugar, take a deep breath.” He pouted like a child.
“Gerald, don’t call me. Don’t text me. This is over.” I opened the car door, but he grabbed my arm.
“Izzy, I do love you.” I sort of believed him. He was sweating now and cracking his knuckles with his other hand like he didn’t want this to end. “Please, sugar. I really do.”
He leaned in to kiss me. I think I was so shocked I didn’t react at first, the whiplash of his speech caught me off guard. Then his hand went up my shirt like he was trying to cop a feel.
I jerked away and shoved him. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“We were always good together like this. Let’s take some deep breaths and go to brunch with Lucy, baby. It’ll all be fine. We need you.”
“We?”
“Me,” he corrected. “I need you. I love you.” His eyes were attempting the hooded, sultry look, but instead he appeared drowsy and stupid.
“The fact that you think we were good together anywhere just proves that this was never a match to begin with.” I stopped myself from saying more. I was better at controlling my temper now.
My therapist was right about that.