It was for the best, parting ways. I didn’t like how his father treated his mother. I didn’t like feeling like that was the model he decided to emulate in our relationship. I also knew better than to suggest therapy or counseling, no matter how much it was needed. That would just fall on deaf ears, or be more fuel for the argument. I’m hard to please, I guess. I like feeling respected and loved. Like I said, hard to please.

He blamed stress from my job, the reason I finally gave up on ‘us.’ He had other theories, other excuses; he ran through most of them during our final conversation. Work, sex, life; all of it. The whole time, more excuses, and all I really wanted to do was shake him and shout, “Can you NOT see we’re incompatible? I’m sick of trying to make something work when nothing is there! Why aren’t you?!”

Instead, I just listened to his angry words and repeated, yet again, “I’ve said what I needed to say. There’s nothing else left to talk about,” and reached for my keys.

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