I met a guy at a cute little café in the city when I was 21 and we immediately hit it off – it wasn’t my normal place to go, so it became a little special to me after that night; I thought it was for both of us. We had an incredible couple of months together. Everything between us clicked perfectly – intellectually, physically and everything in between. I was so happy and loved every second we spent together. Sometimes, I even thought that he could have been “the one”.
After about 3 months, he changed a little bit. Any time I referred to us in a future tense (as in a few months, not growing old together or anything) he would passively change the subject. He also became slightly distracted and much less attentive to me, so maybe I should have seen it coming, but I tried to ignore it. I chalked it up to the fact that our “honeymoon period” was coming to a close and we were entering into an official long-term relationship.
I had driven to his place and we usually went out together from there – as his place was a lot closer to the city than mine. He told me we were going to “our” café. I was excited; I thought it was a sweet gesture. We had been together for nearly 3 months to the day, so I thought he was getting sentimental.
We got our coffees and found a cozy little table just for two. I had barely finished putting sugar into my coffee when he took my hand from across the table and squeezed it. It seemed as if he was getting ready to say something, so I stopped fiddling with my drink and looked up at him with love-sick doe eyes and smiled. The next thing that came out of his mouth obliterated the smile right from my face and transformed into a frozen state of shock.
“I think you are a really great person but I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I really want to discover who I am and I don’t think that I will be able to do that if we’re together.”
It took every last bit of energy to maintain my composure in the café. I cleared my throat and managed to say one thing, “I need to get my car.” So that was even worse planning on his part– He knew he would have to drive me back after he had shattered me. I couldn’t decide whether he was a complete dick or an evil genius, finding further ways to torture me after the initial dump. The second I got into the privacy of his car I finally let go and broke down. I still didn’t say anything; I just cried the whole way back to his place. He really did blind-side me in the café.
As he pulled up behind my car, I reached for the door handle to leave but then I paused. I thought I had better say something – as our entire relationship (that I thought was almost perfect) had just been reduced to nothing more than an uncomfortable hiccup in his life. I thought that the past 3 months of bliss deserved some kind of defence before their pleasant memories were snuffed out.
I looked straight ahead and focused on the rear license plate of my car. “I was really falling in love with you.” After I said it, I wiped a final tear from my cheek and looked him in the eye for the first time since we were in the café. He tilted his head, fake pouted and in a disgustingly condescending tone he replied, “I know you were.”
Well, that final display of callousness sealed the deal and I actually managed to get over him pretty quickly, but I still have never gone back to that damn café.
I heartily concur with sarahjames. We can only hope that he's developed a horrible allergy to coffee, which brings him out in large, purple hives.ReplyDelete
Hi! New follower from the Fibro rewind!ReplyDelete
Maybe you should go to the cafe, you know, just to rid yourself of the painful association :)
Haha... thanks. It's more of an annoying association rather than painful - and I don't mind annoying... I'll just leave it. lol.ReplyDelete
I was dumped once in a cafe.... I think blokes do it to avoid scenes!ReplyDelete
He was obviously an absolute loser....