The friggin end

To try to reconnect, Jack and I set up a date for Sunday. 2:30 on Sunday afternoon I gave Jack a call. Jack didn't answer and Sunday went by uneventfully.

It didn't bother me that he didn't answer the phone nor returned my message. I can put up with a lot shit, but once I hit my threshold, I usually just want out of the relationship instead of trying to repair it. I had exceeded my tolerance level when Jack went to the movies with another girl. No, it wasn't a date, but one day it would be and I wanted to prevent being the girl sitting at home on a Friday night while her friends update her via text message about the date.

Tuesday I sent Jack a text message. "Call me tonight. It's time we talk." We need to talk means either one of two things: we're breaking up or we're pregnant. I assumed Jack knew which one it was.

It was important for me to end things with him civilly. We had about 12 friends in common and frequent the same stomping grounds. We will run into each other and for the sake of our friends, I didn't want to make it more awkward than it already had to be. Besides, it's important for me to man-up and end things with class.

Jack didn't give me that opportunity.

Because Jack never called.

Jack did, however, publish a blog post about me:


That fucking asshole. He knew I wanted out so he avoided calling me and then posted this on the Internet for everyone to read. The night I yelled at Jack I told him how I did not like being made a fool out of, and that's exactly what he did. All of our mutual friends would read this about me. Humiliation washed over me and I began to cry.

Jack was right: he wasn't who I thought he was. I thought we could end this properly. I thought he had enough respect for me to do that.

He didn't. I had spent the past few months building a website for him. He kicked out my access rights, deleted all of my work, and then put up a generic template with "This site is being designed by people who give a damn."

For someone who clearly didn't care about me, he sure went out of his way to hurt me. He destroyed my self-esteem while we were together by telling me things like I wasn't qualified to attend his literary society meetings. One time we were walking up a flight of stairs hand in hand and he yanked my arm down because he thought I was walking too fast. The arm jerk made me lose my balance and I almost tumbled down the stairs. The last month he didn't even see me unless it was to meet over his website--he had begun to use me and he didn't even try to hide it.

And now I get that posted on teh Intarwebs: he could have feelings for me; he just doesn't want to.

He couldn't even let me have enough dignity to end things with him first. He stripped that from me as well.

"Dating isn't about winning or losing," a friend tried to console me.

"You know what? Sometimes it is!" I shot back. I needed my dignity; it's the only thing I have to hold onto. I can't remember the last time I felt so utterly worthless. He wouldn't touch me when we worked on his website, making me feel ugly. He wouldn't invite me to his meetings because he thought I didn't have the right mind frame, making me feel stupid. I needed my dignity.

So I didn't tell anybody about the blog post outside a trusted friend. As much as I wanted to leave the comment, If you had taken the non-drowsy formula of your herpes medication and called me..., I pretended I never read it. And then I waited another week and called him.

"I can't do this anymore," I told him. "I just don't want to."

"You haven't been happy for awhile," he said, unaffected.

"I'm tired of feeling like a piece of crap."

"Why do you feel like a piece of crap?"

"You just make me feel so ugly and so stupid."

He dropped audibly, "That's not it." It was the only redeeming thing he said to me.

"I just feel like I did something wrong when you stand me up and don't return my calls. The person I'm dating shouldn't avoid me."

"I wasn't avoiding you; I just wasn't thinking about you. I'm very focused on myself right now." He paused, "I can't believe you would be so selfish to not let me think about myself."

He has a way of twisting things around that stuns me into stupidity and puts me on the defensive. "I didn't say that. I think it's good spending time on yourself."

"You just expect too much. You're always yelling at me."

"I yelled at you the one time. We haven't even spoken since. I said I wanted two things: for you to respond when you're invited to something and for you to return my phone calls. I don't think that's too much. And the fact you never called me when I said we needed to talk just reinforces things."

"It's too needy to expect a return phone call."

Once again, I was stunned into silence. I thought of everyone else in my life and how they call me back. Did I just have really extraordinary friends? Was this not normal behavior?

"I never treated you badly, you know," he said.

"I disagree with you."

"I know you do."

I thought of the time he play-slapped me in the face when I said something snarky in front of our friends. My mouth had dropped open at his audacity to even lightly strike in me in the face and he dared me, "Go on, get mad at me for no reason."

I wanted to be vindicated. I wanted him to admit, I really did treat you like a piece of shit and I'm sorry. But the longer the conversation circled, the more apparent it became that I would never hear that. I would never hear that because I think he might actually believe everything he says. And that thought terrifies me to my bones.

As he repeatedly put me on the defensive, I knew that I made the right decision by wanting out of the relationship. There was no other possible ending for us.

And he said I could have the friends. He doesn't respect them anyway.