Romantic Comedy
“You’re breaking up with me?” he seems shocked.
“Yes.”
I can tell this isn’t going to go as planned.
“But…why?” his eyes are arching outward in that pathetic sort of way that makes him look like Droopy – you know, that clinically depressed and depressing cartoon dog? The eyes and his beak of a nose with its nostrils flaring with angst…it’s embarrassing.
Don’t get me wrong, I like Derrick – rather I liked Derrick, and I actually think his big nose is cute. Cute, but with his bushy eyebrows and his thick-rimmed, black glasses – he’s a mustache short of a bad Groucho Marx disguise.
“Why do people ever separate, Derrick? One or both parties get bored or annoyed and they grow apart. It really isn’t personal…”
“It’s the most personal thing in the world, dammit!” He’s shouting and getting emotional. It’s unnecessary. I brought him to the dining hall so he wouldn’t cause a scene.
If you’d have asked me why I was breaking up with him after 2 years of dating, I honestly couldn’t tell you. If you’d have asked mewhy I had dated him for 2 years or any years at all, I’d have just as much to say. And now he’s looking at me in a very serious way that makes it very hard for me to keep nice about this whole thing. He whispered something to me that I’m not quite sure I heard right.
“I’m sorry?”
“…are you on your period or something…?”
I am, but-
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He just lost his game and I’m probably a sick person for taking a bit of pleasure in watching him struggle for words.
“I don’t mean – I mean if we could just work things out I know that we’d be fine. We just need to talk about it.”
“I slept with Mark.”
I didn’t mean to say it. It’s not even true, but Mark isn’t going to deny it. I’ve caught him staring at my ass on more than a few occasions.
“Mark – my roommate Mark?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” He sits there staring at his plastic cup of coke. I’m sure he watched the same bead of condensation run down its side. He can’t look at me, but I feel like every other pair of eyes in this hall is focused on me. It’s embarrassing. At least he gets up and leaves with dignity. I’ll ignore the fact that he just called me a stupid bitch under his breath.
My roommate, Becky – she must have been walking up behind me. She probably saw the whole thing happen. I’m glad she’s decided to come floating over to my table making sympathetic noises. Sitting down next to me with that obnoxious bleached hair of hers, green eyes full of simulated empathy. It makes me smile.
“Oh my gosh,” she sighs. There’s too much air in her words. “Bobby,” she whines at me. “What happened?”
“Oh my god, Becky, you know what happened.”
She asks me if I’m okay and what I’m going to do and she keeps reassuring me and I assure her that I’m really okay. She asks me what I’m going to do as she takes the drink Derrick left at the table. I don’t have time for any of this drama. I have a Lit Theory essay on Derrida and Différance due in five hours and I’ve barely started.
“I have to go,” I tell her. My phone vibrates in the right-hand pocket of my jeans. It’s a text message from Derrick.
“Bobby, are you going to be okay?”
Have a nice life, you cold, ungrateful slut :)
“I’ll be fine.”
via fistful-of-justice
via adventureismegan