SHE TOOK A SELF-DISCOVERY TRIP WITH HER EX, SO I DISCOVERED MYSELF TOO

The day of the hearing was the first time I had seen Astrid in two weeks.

She walked into the courthouse looking like she was auditioning for a role in a Victorian tragedy. She was dressed in all white, her hair loose, carrying a single leather-bound notebook. Piper was by her side, clutching a bottle of "essential oil for justice."

I sat with my lawyer. I had spent $1,500 on legal fees just to deal with this nonsense, but it was worth every penny.

When the judge called the case, Astrid stood up. She didn't look at me. She looked at the judge with wide, watery eyes.

“Your Honor,” she began, her voice quivering. “This isn't just about money. This is about a breach of a sacred trust. Daniel Cross led me to believe we were building a life together. I gave up my career—my jewelry business—to support his home. I decorated his life. And then, while I was away on a necessary healing journey, he discarded me like trash. He left me in a cold, dark apartment with nothing but the clothes on my back.”

The judge, a man who looked like he had seen everything twice, peered over his glasses. “And what exactly is the ‘Domestic Partnership’ you’re referring to? Were you married?”

“In our hearts, yes,” Astrid said.

“But legally?”

“We... we didn't believe in the state’s involvement in our love.”

“I see,” the judge said. “And this $10,000. How did you arrive at that number?”

Astrid opened her notebook. “It’s compensation for my emotional labor. For the three years of growth I provided him.”

I leaned forward. “We dated for eight months, Your Honor.”

Astrid spun around. “The soul connection was three years, Daniel! You know that!”

The judge banged his gavel. It was a beautiful sound.

“Miss,” the judge said, his voice cold. “This is a court of law, not a drum circle. Do you have a signed lease? A cohabitation agreement? Any proof that you contributed to the rent or utilities?”

“I contributed energy!” she shouted.

“Energy does not pay the bailiffs,” the judge said. “Mr. Cross has provided bank statements showing he paid 100% of the expenses for the duration of your stay. He also provided a copy of the note he left you, which clearly states his intentions. He even gave you three weeks of paid rent to find a new situation. Which, I might add, you used to squat in his apartment and harass his employer.”

Astrid started to cry. Real tears this time. “He’s punishing me for being free!”

“No,” the judge said. “He’s stoping you from being a parasite. Case dismissed. And Miss? If I see another filing from you regarding ‘soul connections,’ I’ll hold you in contempt. Get out.”

Piper tried to say something about "karmic debt," but a court officer stepped toward her, and she scurried out behind Astrid.

I walked out of that courthouse feeling like I had just shed a skin.

Outside, Garrett was waiting by his car. He looked even worse than before. He approached me while Astrid was being consoled by Piper and Deb near the fountain.

“Hey,” Garrett said, looking at his shoes. “I just wanted to say... I’m sorry. For the retreat thing. I didn't know she was telling you it was a ‘spiritual’ thing. She told me you guys had broken up weeks ago and that you were just ‘roommates’ until her jewelry business took off.”

I looked at him. He was just a guy. A messy, confused guy who had been used as a pawn in Astrid’s game just as much as I had.

“Why did you go, Garrett?”

He shrugged. “I was fighting with Destiny. I wanted to get high in Sedona and forget my life for a while. Astrid said she’d pay for the gas and the Airbnb. I didn't realize she was using your credit card.”

I patted him on the shoulder. “Good luck, Garrett. You’re going to need it.”

That was the last time I saw either of them.

The aftermath was quiet. Astrid moved back into her mother’s basement. She posted a few more videos about the "systemic oppression of the divine feminine," but without my couch and my lighting, her production value dropped significantly. She eventually stopped tagging me.

I heard from Quinn a few months later. Apparently, Astrid had tried to "manifest" a car by taking a test drive and just not bringing it back. She ended up with a diverted sentence and mandatory community service.

As for me? My life got very, very simple.

I stayed in my loft. I worked. I traveled—to places I actually wanted to go, with people who didn't require "energy clearings" before boarding the plane.

A year later, I met Heather.

Heather is an civil engineer. She likes spreadsheets, cold beer, and telling the truth. The first time she came over to my place, she looked at the empty windowsill and said, “Nice. I hate it when people clutter up their windows with rocks.”

I knew then she was the one.

We recently went on a trip to Seattle. We hiked, we ate great food, and we talked about the future. There were no "soul-gazing" sessions. No fire ceremonies. Just two people who respected each other, enjoying the moment.

Looking back, I realize that Astrid was right about one thing: I did need a journey of self-discovery.

But I didn't need to go to Sedona to find it. I just needed to look in the mirror and realize that being "supportive" is not the same as being a doormat. I discovered that my peace is not for sale, and my stability is not a public utility for anyone with a "creative soul" and an ex-boyfriend.

Self-respect is the quietest, most powerful thing you can own. It doesn't need Palo Santo. It doesn't need a group discount. It just needs you to be brave enough to pack the boxes and lock the door.

Astrid wanted to find herself. I hope she did. But I’m much happier with the person I found when she was gone.

And the water pressure in my new place? It’s perfect.