Note from Monique: Mark broke up with me tonight. See the previous post, “Dumped.”

On our first date, you gave me two very important pieces of information about yourself. The first was that you “suck” at relationships. No shit. This is inextricably tied to the second piece of information, which was that you experienced some pretty awful things at the hands of a family member. You told me you were “over” that, which, of course, I don’t believe. I can’t get “over” my dad being an alcoholic. I don’t know how you can be “over” what you experienced.

In the two months that I knew you, it seemed to me like a lot of your personality was shaped by your abuse. You so dislike yourself that you can’t imagine anyone else can like you. I don’t know how many times you told me you had no idea why I was dating you. There were only one-night stands in the period of time between me and your last girlfriend, who ended things two years ago. You didn’t seem to want to progress emotionally beyond a superficial level. You experienced sexual dysfunction on a regular basis, and I even wondered if you had an eating disorder.

When I had doubts about a month in and told you if you didn’t feel about me like you should, then was the time to end things, you told me I was beautiful and we had a connection you hadn’t felt with anyone else. A few weeks later, when I almost broke up with you because of your sarcasm, you again listed off all of the things you liked about me. You had so many opportunities to end things instead of acting like this relationship was working for you.

Last Sunday, when you asked me to have dinner with you on Wednesday, I was pleased because I thought you were getting more comfortable with the idea of “us.” I didn’t know you were going to f-ing break up with me. And you said you wanted to tell me in person, so why didn’t you tell me Sunday? You know, it always bothered me that you talked so much about yourself and didn’t ask me that many questions about me. They way you broke up with me is just another example of your self-centered attitude.

Here’s the deal: You need help. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were clinincally depressed. Don’t f-ing tell me how wonderful I am but that there are no “bells and whistles,” even after you oh-so-patiently waited for them to appear. If being with me was so awful for you, why did you keep initiating intimate contact with me? So I would be f-ing embarassed that you couldn’t get it up?

You taught me a valuable lesson, that’s for damn sure.

∗ Posted by Monique on 01.28.2006
∗ Uncategorized