My girlfriend said, "You're lucky I even pick up your calls." So, I stopped calling. 3 weeks of silence. Later, she showed up at my job in tears. My coworker asked, "Who is she?" I said, "No idea." All right, Reddit. Grab your popcorn because this one's a ride. My girlfriend told me I should feel grateful she even answered my calls.
So, I stopped calling. 3 weeks later, she showed up at my workplace sobbing. When my coworker asked who she was, I looked her dead in the eye and said, "I had no idea." Here's how a single sentence ended a 4-year relationship. I'm 28, male, a structural engineer working on commercial projects around Seattle.
Been at the same firm for 6 years, climbing the ladder slowly but steadily. I make decent money, not rich by any means, but comfortable enough to own a nice condo downtown, drive a reliable car, and take vacations without checking my bank account first. My life's pretty straightforward. Wake up at 6:00, hit the gym for an hour, work until 5:00 or 6:00 depending on project deadlines, then either hang with my buddy Eric or work on my side hobby, building custom PC setups for people.
Weekends are for hiking, gaming, or catching up on sleep. Simple routine for a simple guy. 4 years ago, I met Natalie, 27, female, at a mutual friend's birthday party. She worked in fashion marketing for a boutique firm downtown. First impression, stunning. Long, dark hair, always dressed like she walked out of a magazine, and this confidence that made everyone in the room notice when she spoke. We hit it off immediately.
She laughed at my engineering jokes that usually bombed with other people. I was fascinated by her stories about Fashion Week and brand launches. For the first year, everything felt effortless. We'd meet for dinner after work, spend weekends exploring the city, take weekend trips to Portland or Vancouver. She seemed genuinely interested in my work, asking questions about the buildings I was helping design.
Looking back, I can see when things started shifting. Around year two, the questions about my projects stopped. The enthusiasm for my hobbies faded. She started making comments about my predictable routine and how I never did anything spontaneous. When I'd suggest plans, she'd counter with something more expensive or elaborate than what I had in mind.
By year three, there was this underlying tension I couldn't quite name. She'd get annoyed when I worked late on project deadlines. She'd roll her eyes when Eric and I made plans to watch football. She started comparing me to her friends' boyfriends, how Trevor took his girlfriend to Bali, how Nathan surprised his girl with a new car, how Blake was so fun at parties.
The final year was just exhausting. Every conversation felt like I was defending myself. Why didn't I dress better? Why was I content with my current position instead of pushing for senior engineer? Why did I spend money on computer parts instead of nicer dinners? Why couldn't I be more like the guys she worked with who were going places? I tried, man.
I really did. Started dressing in the expensive brands she suggested, even though a single shirt cost what I used to spend on a week's worth of clothes. Took her to pricier restaurants despite preferring the hole-in-the-wall Thai place near my condo. Cut back on time with Eric because she said I was choosing friends over her.
Nothing was ever enough. The breaking point came 3 weeks ago on a Tuesday evening. I'd been working on a major project proposal, a mixed-use development that could be a huge win for our firm. The deadline was Friday, and I was pulling extra hours to get everything perfect. This wasn't just busy work.
This was the kind of project that could lead to a promotion. Around 8:00 p.m., my phone rang. Natalie. "Hey, what's up?" I answered, still typing with one hand. "Are you still at the office?" Her tone was already sharp. "Yeah, this proposal is due Friday and I need to" "Seriously? We had plans tonight." I stopped typing, pulled up my phone calendar. Nothing.
"What plans? I don't see anything on my calendar." "I mentioned it 3 days ago, dinner with the Harrisons. They're in town for one night." The Harrisons, her college friends who I'd met exactly once and who spent the entire dinner talking about their startup's Series B funding and their vacation home in Cabo. Real humble people.
"Natalie, I don't remember you telling me about this. And even if you did, I explained last week that this project would need extra hours. This is important for my career." "Everything's always important for your career. But when it comes to me, suddenly you're too busy. That's not fair. I've canceled work plans for you plenty of times.
" "Oh, please. You act like you're so dedicated to your job, but you're still just a regular engineer, not even senior level. Maybe if you actually pushed yourself instead of being so comfortable with mediocrity, you'd be further along." That stung, but I kept my cool. "I'm working late on a project that could change that.
Can we reschedule with the Harrisons? I'm sure they'd understand." "No, we can't reschedule. They're leaving tomorrow. But of course, your work is more important than my relationships." "That's not what I'm saying. I just need these 3 days to finish" "You know what? Forget it. I'll go alone. Again. Like I always do because apparently having a boyfriend means nothing when he's married to his spreadsheets.
" "Natalie, that's not" "Save it. I'm going. Don't wait up." She hung up. I sat there staring at my computer screen. That familiar knot forming in my stomach. The same knot that had become a permanent resident over the past year. The feeling that no matter what I did, it would never be enough. That I was fundamentally disappointing just by being myself.
But I had work to do. So, I buried the feeling and got back to the proposal. Thursday evening, 2 days later. The proposal was nearly done, just needed final reviews. I decided to take a break and actually leave the office at a reasonable hour. Maybe surprise Natalie with dinner. Try to smooth things over from Tuesday's fight.
I stopped by her favorite Italian place, picked up her usual order, the carbonara she always got, and headed to her apartment. She lived in a trendy building in Capitol Hill, the kind with a rooftop deck and a doorman. Way nicer than my practical downtown condo. But then again, her parents helped with her rent. When I knocked on her door around 7:00, it took a minute for her to answer.
When she did, she was in her bathrobe, hair wet from a shower. "What are you doing here?" Not exactly a warm greeting. "Thought I'd surprise you with dinner. Your favorite from Lombardi's." She glanced at the bag, then back at me with this look, like I'd just shown up selling insurance. "I already ate." "Oh, well, I can put this in your fridge for tomorrow.
" "Why are you really here?" The question caught me off guard. "What do you mean? I wanted to see you. It's been a rough week and I thought we could" "You thought you could just show up unannounced and everything would be fine? After ditching me Tuesday?" "I didn't ditch you. I had to work. I explained that." "Right. Work. Your constant excuse for everything.
" I took a breath, trying to keep this from escalating. "Can I come in so we're not having this conversation in your hallway?" She hesitated, then stepped aside. Her apartment was immaculate as always, all white furniture and abstract art that probably cost more than my car. Very Instagrammable. Very cold. I set the food on her kitchen counter.
"Look, I know Tuesday was frustrating, but this project is huge for me. You used to understand that" "I used to understand a lot of things before I realized you're never going to change." "Change what? I'm working hard to build my career." "Working hard at staying exactly where you are. When was the last time you actually took a risk? Pushed for something bigger? You're so content with your little routine, your little life, your little ambitions.
" "My little ambitions? I'm literally working on a 50 million project that could" "That you'll complete. And then what? Stay at the same firm, same position, same everything. You know what Anthony said?" Anthony, her coworker, the guy who always seemed to come up in conversations lately. "I don't really care what Anthony said.
" "He said people who are comfortable are just people who've given up. And he's right. You've given up. You're 28 and you've already peaked." The words hit like a physical blow, but I kept my voice level. "Is that really what you think of me?" "I think you're a good guy who's just not going anywhere.
And I'm tired of waiting around to see if you'll ever want more." "I do want more. I'm working toward" "No, you're working toward the next safe step, the next predictable promotion, the next box to check. Nothing exciting, nothing bold. Just more of the same." I stood there in her pristine kitchen holding a bag of now cooling pasta, and something finally clicked.
This wasn't about Tuesday. This wasn't about the Harrisons. This wasn't even about my career. This was about her being fundamentally disappointed in who I was. "So, what do you want from me, Natalie?" She sighed like I was exhausting her. "I want you to want something. Anything. To have some kind of fire instead of just coasting." "I'm not coasting.
I'm building a stable career." "Stable. Safe. Predictable. That's all you ever talk about. Do you know how boring that is?" "Boring?" I repeated. The word hung in the air between us. "I didn't mean it like that." "No, you did. That's clearly how you see me. Boring. Predictable. Not exciting enough. Not ambitious enough.
Not spontaneous enough. Not whatever enough." "You're twisting my words." "Am I? Because for the past year, you've been pretty clear about all the ways I don't measure up." She crossed her arms. "Maybe if you actually listen to what I'm saying instead of getting defensive." "I have listened. I've tried changing.
I bought the clothes you wanted. I went to the restaurants you picked. I've been trying to be whatever version of me you'd actually respect. And it's never enough because you don't really change. You just go through the motions to avoid conflict. That's not the same as actually wanting to be better." "Better for who? You? Because from where I'm standing, I've been bending over backward trying to meet standards that keep moving.
" Her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at it, and I swear I saw the smallest smile before she caught herself. "I need to take this," she said, reaching for her phone. "Of course you do." She answered, turning away from me. "Hey, yeah, I know. No, it's fine. I was just Okay, give me 20 minutes. Yeah. See you then.
She hung up and turned back to me. I have plans tonight. Plans with who? Does it matter? You were working late anyway, so It matters to me. Who are you meeting at 8:00 p.m. on a Thursday? Some people from work. We're grabbing drinks to celebrate closing a campaign. People from work, including Anthony? Her jaw tensed. Yes, including Anthony.
He's part of the team. Is that a problem? Depends. Are you interested in him? What? No. We're co-workers, friends. Friends you get dressed up for at 8:00 p.m. I'm not doing this. I'm not justifying having a social life to you. Especially when you've been MIA all week for your precious project. I've been working.
That's different from My phone rang. Eric's name on the screen. You should probably get that, Natalie said. Voice dripping with sarcasm. Might be important. I answered. Hey, man. What's up? Yo, you still at the office? Want to grab food? Actually, I'm at Natalie's right now. Maybe [clears throat] tomorrow? Oh, word. Tell her I said hi. Catch you later. I hung up.
Natalie was already heading toward her bedroom. I need to get ready. You should probably go. We're not done talking about this. She turned in her doorway. Yes, we are. I have plans. You have your proposal. We'll talk later. When? I don't know. This weekend? I'll text you. You'll text me.
My girlfriend will text me when she has time to talk. What do you want me to say? That I'll drop everything for you? Like you do for me? Oh, wait. You don't. That's not fair and you know it. Just go. Please. I don't have time for this right now. She disappeared into her bedroom and closed the door. I stood in her kitchen for a moment looking at the takeout bag on her counter.
Four years of relationship sitting next to carbonara that was getting cold. I left without saying goodbye. Friday came and went. I finished the proposal, submitted it Thursday night around midnight. My boss loved it. Sent me an email calling it exceptional work. And mentioning it would definitely factor into upcoming promotion discussions.
The validation I'd been working toward. But I felt hollow. Saturday morning I called Natalie. Voicemail. Tried again around noon. Voicemail. Texted asking if we could talk. No response. Sunday afternoon, she finally called back. Hey, she said, sounding distracted. Hey, I've been trying to reach you all weekend. I know. I've been busy.
Too busy to text back? I needed some space to think. Think about what? About us. About whether this is working. My stomach dropped. And? And I don't know. I'm just I'm not happy. What would make you happy? I don't know that either. That's the problem. We sat in silence for a moment. Do you want to meet up? Talk in person? I asked. Not today.
I have plans. Plans with work people again? Don't start. I'm not starting anything. I'm just trying to understand where we are. We're in the same place we've been. You doing your thing, me doing mine, and somehow we're supposed to be a couple despite barely connecting anymore. We're barely connecting because you're always upset with me about something.
I can't seem to do anything right. Maybe that's the point. Maybe we're just not right for each other anymore. The words hung there. Neither of us said anything for several seconds. Is that what you really think? I finally asked. I think I think I need more space. To figure out what I want. How much space? I don't know.
Just don't call me for a while, okay? I need to clear my head. Define a while. I don't know. A couple weeks, maybe? A couple weeks? Right before we're supposed to go to your sister's wedding next month. The wedding's not for 5 weeks. We'll figure it out by then. Will we? She sighed. Can you just give me this? Can you just respect what I'm asking for? Yeah, okay.
I'll give you space. Thank you. But Natalie? Yeah? At some point we need to actually deal with what's broken here. Space won't fix that. I know. We will. Just not right now. Okay. I have to go. I'll talk to you later. She hung up before I could respond. I sat on my couch staring at my phone.
Max, my golden retriever, put his head on my lap. I'd had him for 3 years. Adopted him from a shelter when he was two. Best decision I ever made. Dogs don't care if you're ambitious enough or spontaneous enough. They just love you for showing up. Eric came over that night with pizza and his PS5. Heard you and Natalie are taking a break. He said.
Setting up the console. How'd you know? I didn't until just now. Your face gave it away. What happened? I filled him in on the whole sorry story. Eric listened, occasionally shaking his head. Bro, real talk. She's been treating you like garbage for months. I didn't want to say anything because it wasn't my place, but the way she talks to you sometimes in front of people it's disrespectful.
She's just she has high standards. High standards or impossible standards? Because from where I sit you've been jumping through hoops trying to make her happy. And all she does is move the hoops higher. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. Or maybe she's never going to be satisfied. Some people are like that. They always need the next thing.
The next level. The next achievement. You could be a billionaire CEO and she'd find something to criticize. >> [music] >> She's not that bad. Dude. Last month at Dave's birthday she spent 20 minutes talking about how Anthony from her work is so driven and really going places. While you were sitting right there. That's messed up.
I didn't have a good response to that. We played games until 2:00 in the morning. I crashed on my couch with Max sprawled across my legs. And for the first time in weeks I didn't have that knot in my stomach. Monday through Friday of that first week I focused on work. The proposal got green-lit. And suddenly I was getting pulled into senior-level meetings.
>> [music] >> My boss mentioned the promotion again. Not a guarantee but strong possibilities if I kept performing. I didn't call Natalie. She'd asked for space, so I gave it to her. Saturday I went hiking with Eric and some other friends. Got back to my car around 4:00 p.m. to find three missed calls [music] and two texts from Natalie. Text one.
Heard your proposal got approved. Congrats. Text two. Are you ignoring me now? I waited until I got home to call back. Hey, she answered on the first ring. Sorry, was hiking. Phone was in the car. On a Saturday? Yeah, needed to clear my head. With Eric? And some other people from his gym. Why? Just wondering.
You never mentioned you were going hiking. You asked for space. Figured that meant not checking in about my weekend plans. Silence. I didn't mean you couldn't tell me what you're doing, she said. What did you mean then? Just I don't know. This is harder than I thought. What is? The space thing. I thought it would help.
But I just keep thinking about stuff. What stuff? Us. What we're doing. Whether it's worth it. And what did you conclude? I don't know yet. That's why I called. I wanted to hear your voice. Something about that felt manipulative, but I pushed the feeling down. Well. Here I am. Are you mad at me? I'm not mad. I'm just existing.
Doing what [music] you asked. You sound different. Different how? I don't know. Distant. You asked for distance, Natalie. Not emotional distance. Just time to think. I'm not sure how to give you one without the other. More silence. The Harrisons asked about you. She said, changing subjects.
They wanted to know why you didn't come to dinner. What did you tell them? That you had to work. They understood. Did they? Yeah. Anthony was there, actually. He said his company would never expect that level of overtime without serious compensation. Made me think. And there it was. Anthony again. Made you think what? That maybe you let your company take advantage of you.
You work so hard but don't advocate for yourself. I do advocate for myself. I just got a major project approved that could lead to Could lead to? Maybe. Possibly. That's what you always say. Could, maybe, possibly. Never anything definite. That's how career progression works in engineering. It's not like I can just demand a promotion. Other people do. Other people in other fields.
This isn't marketing where you can jump companies every year for a title bump. See, that's exactly what I mean. You have all these excuses for why you can't do things instead of finding ways to make them happen. I felt the knot returning to my stomach. I'm not doing this right now. Doing what? Having the same argument in a different package.
You wanted space to think. So, think. But I'm not spending that time defending myself. I'm not attacking you. Yes, you are. You've been attacking who I am for months. And I'm tired of it. Wow. Okay. If that's how you feel that's how I feel. You wanted honesty? There it is. She didn't respond for a moment.
Then maybe we both need more time. Fine. Fine. She hung up. I looked at [music] Max. She hung up on me. Again. Max tilted his head in that way dogs do when they're trying to understand human stupidity. Week two of space was quieter. She didn't call. I didn't call. She posted on Instagram. Pictures from what looked like a work event. Some artsy coffee shop photos.
A sunset from a rooftop bar. Anthony appeared in several photos. Always in the background, but definitely present. Eric noticed. Bro, you seeing these posts? Yeah. You okay with that? What am I supposed to do? She asked for space. She's using her space however she wants. Space usually means some alone time.
Not hitting rooftop bars with co-workers. Maybe that's what she needs to figure things out. Or maybe she's already figured things out and is too chicken to tell you. I didn't want to think about that possibility. Work continued to go well. The promotion looked increasingly likely.
My boss scheduled a meeting for 3 weeks out to discuss my future with the firm. That was promising. I took Max to the dog park more. Started going to the gym in the [music] evenings instead of mornings since I wasn't rushing to get to work early anymore. Reconnected with some friends I'd been neglecting. Built a a gaming PC for a client that earned me an extra $2,000.
Life without constantly trying to manage Natalie's disappointment was peaceful. Week three, she called Tuesday morning. I was at my desk reviewing blueprints when her name appeared on my screen. For the first time in four years, I hesitated before answering. Hello? Hey, it's me. I know. How are you? Busy.
Got a meeting in 10 minutes. What's up? I've been thinking a lot about us. And? And I think we need to talk. In person. When? Are you free tonight? I have plans with Eric. Tomorrow? Working late. We're presenting the development proposal to the client. Thursday? Also working late. The presentation is Friday, so it's crunch time. You're always working late.
You're the one who said I should advocate for myself. This project is how I'm doing that. Silence. Then, you sound different again. Different how? Cold. Like you don't care. I'm just busy, Natalie. Like you wanted space to think, I've been using the time to focus on work. Isn't that what you were criticizing me for not doing enough of? That's not I didn't mean ignore me completely. I'm not ignoring you.
I'm literally talking to you right now. But you wanted space, so I gave you space. I didn't think that came with a schedule of mandatory check-ins. Why are you being like this? Like what? Mean. Dismissive. I'm not being mean. I'm being honest. You asked for space to figure out if you want to be with me. I'm giving you that space while focusing on my career.
That seems like exactly what we both needed. But I want to see you. To talk. Then let's talk. What did you want to say? Not over the phone, in person. Mm. Natalie, I genuinely don't have time this week. I have the biggest presentation of my career on Friday. Can it wait until the weekend? Long pause. Then, with an edge in her voice, You know what? Fine.
You clearly have your priorities. Yes. This week my priority is not blowing the presentation that could define my career trajectory. I thought you'd appreciate that. I appreciate you making time for what matters to you. Are you seriously mad at me for working right now? After months of calling me unambitious? I'm not mad. I'm just realizing some things.
Like what? Like maybe you're right. Maybe we do need this space. I never said we needed space. You did. Well, maybe it's good for both of us. Okay. Okay. Another pause. I have to get to my meeting, I said. Right. Your meeting. I'll call you this weekend, after the presentation. Don't bother. What? You heard me.
Don't bother calling. Clearly you're too busy for me anyway. Natalie, that's not I've been trying to reach out, trying to fix things. And you're just going about your life like nothing matters. You asked for space. Space, not complete disconnection. But apparently you're fine just cutting me out. I'm not cutting you out.
I'm respecting your request while dealing with important work commitments. You know, the thing you've been criticizing me for not taking seriously enough? Forget it. Just forget I called. Natalie, I'm done. Figure out what you want, and maybe if I'm available, we can talk. If you're available? Yeah. Maybe now you know how it feels to be someone's last priority.
Last priority? I've been bending over backward for you for months. Months ago, sure. But the past three weeks? You've been perfectly happy without me, haven't you? The question hung in the air. Because she was right. I had been happier. I've been focused on work, I said carefully. Right. Work. The answer to everything.
You know what? You should marry your job. At least it'll never disappoint you like I apparently do. That's not what I You're lucky I even pick up your calls at this point. Most girls wouldn't bother with someone so checked out. And there it was. The real Natalie, finally without the filter. Lucky you pick up my calls? Yeah, lucky. Because from where I'm standing, you've been a pretty disappointing boyfriend lately. Something inside me snapped.
Not into anger, into clarity. You know what, Natalie? You're right. What? You're absolutely right. You shouldn't have to pick up calls from someone who disappoints you. That must be exhausting. That's not what I meant. No, I think it is exactly what you meant. And here's the thing. I'm tired of being someone's disappointment.
So how about this? You don't have to worry about picking up my calls anymore. What are you saying? I'm saying I'm done. We're done. Silence. Then, in a smaller voice, You're breaking up with me over the phone? You've been breaking up with me in pieces for the past year. I'm just making it official. Because of one comment? Because of a thousand comments.
This was just the last one. You're being ridiculous. I was upset. You're always upset. Nothing I do is right. I'm too predictable, too boring, not ambitious enough, too focused on work, not focused enough. I can't win, and I'm tired of trying. So that's it. Four years and you're just done? Four years where I kept shrinking myself to fit into your expectations. Yeah, I'm done.
I can't believe this. I called to work things out and you're ending it? You called to tell me I should feel lucky you even talk to me. That's not someone who wants to work things out. That's someone who wants a punching bag. I'm not I have to go. My meeting's starting. Wait. I hung up, sat at my desk, heart pounding.
My co-worker Amy poked her head in. You okay? You look pale. Yeah, just ended my relationship. Oh. Oh, man. You need a minute? No, I need to nail this meeting. Let's go. The meeting went perfectly. I presented with a clarity I didn't know I had. Afterward, my boss pulled me aside. Whatever's different about you this week, keep it up. You're on fire.
If he only knew. The rest of that week I didn't hear from Natalie. Part of me expected an angry call or a long text. Nothing came. The presentation Friday went flawlessly. The client signed off on everything. My boss took me aside afterward and officially offered me the senior engineer position with a 20% raise. You've earned this, he said.
Your work this month has been exceptional. I celebrated with Eric and some work friends that night. Told them about the breakup. Got a lot of supportive nods and about time comments. Apparently everyone had opinions about Natalie they'd been holding back. She used to correct your stories at parties, Amy from work mentioned.
Like you'd be telling something funny and she'd interrupt to fix details that didn't matter. It was uncomfortable to watch. Remember that time she made you leave my birthday early because she wanted to go to some gallery opening? Eric added. And then spent the whole next week posting about how cultural she was? Hearing it from outside perspectives made me realize how much I'd normalized behavior that wasn't okay.
The weekend came and went. No contact, which was fine. I was busy anyway. Had apartment maintenance to catch up on. Took Max to the beach. Started a new video game I'd been wanting to play. Monday morning I walked into work feeling lighter than I had in months. The promotion was official. New business cards were being printed.
I had a corner office now. Small, but mine. Amy stopped by my new space around 10. Hey, there's someone in the lobby asking for you. Client? No. Young woman. Says it's personal. My stomach dropped. Did she give a name? Natalie something? Great. I went down to the lobby. And there she was. Sitting on one of the modern chairs wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.
Way more casual than her usual look. Her eyes were red and puffy. When she saw me, she stood up quickly. Can we talk? Her voice cracked. I'm at work, Natalie. I know. I'm sorry. But you wouldn't answer my calls. Because we broke up. People who break up don't typically talk. Please, 5 minutes. I glanced at the receptionist who was trying very hard to look busy while obviously listening. Fine. Outside.
We walked out to the plaza in front of my building. Seattle weather was typical. Overcast, slightly drizzly. What do you want? I asked. I wanted to see you. To apologize. I've been calling all weekend. I saw. I didn't answer. Why not? Because we don't have anything to talk about. We broke up. That's it. But we didn't really break up.
You were just angry. I wasn't angry. I was done. There's a difference. You're being cruel. I'm being honest. Something I should have been months ago. Her eyes filled with tears. I messed up. I know I did. The things I said on the phone were horrible. I was upset and I took it out on you. You've been taking things out on me for a year, Natalie.
I know. And I'm sorry. I've been talking to my friends, and they helped me see how unfair I've been. Your friends who've been watching you treat me like garbage for months? Those friends? She flinched. It wasn't like that. It was exactly like that. You've spent our entire relationship trying to turn me into someone I'm not.
And when I couldn't become that person, you punished me for it. I just wanted you to reach your potential. My potential according to who? You? Because from where I'm standing, I just got a major promotion by being exactly who I am. Her face fell. You got the promotion? Senior engineer. 20% raise. Start officially next Monday. That's That's great.
I'm happy for you. Are you? Because the only time you mentioned this project, it was to criticize me for working on it. I was frustrated. I didn't mean Amy, I called to my co-worker who was coming out of the building. She walked over. Hey, can you meet Natalie? Amy looked confused but shook Natalie's hand.
Nice to meet you. I turned to Amy. Who is this? Amy caught on immediately. Bless her. I don't know. Who is she? No idea, I said, looking Natalie dead in the eye. Natalie's face went white. What are you doing? Answering honestly. Because I don't know who you are. The woman I dated doesn't exist anymore. If she ever did. That's not fair.
You know what's not fair? Spending four years with someone who made me feel like I was never enough. Who compared me to other men constantly. Who made me question whether I was worth loving. Because I wasn't exciting or spontaneous or ambitious enough for her standards. I never said you weren't worth loving. You didn't have to say it.
You showed it every time you rolled your eyes at my hobbies. Every time you sighed when I suggested plans. Every time you brought up Anthony's latest achievement. Every time you made me feel small. Amy quietly excused herself, giving me a supportive nod as she left. Natalie was full on crying now.
Please, I came here to fix things. To tell you I love you and I want to work this out. You love me? Or you love the stability I provided? Because those are different things. I love you. Really? I've just been so confused and I handled it badly. But these past 3 weeks without you have been terrible. I miss you. I miss us. There is no us.
There hasn't been for a long time. We've just been going through the motions. That's not true. We have good times. Remember? Remember what? The last time you actually seemed happy around me? The last time you didn't criticize something I did? The last time you looked at me like I was someone you chose instead of someone you settled for? She didn't have an answer.
I'm sorry you're hurting, I said, and I meant it. But I can't be the person you want me to be and I'm done trying. So that's it? You won't even give me a chance to make this right? You've had 4 years to make it right. Instead, you spent the last one telling me all the ways I was wrong. People make mistakes. This wasn't a mistake.
This was a pattern and I'm not interested in waiting around to see if you'll change when I know you won't. How can you be so cold about this? Like you don't even care? I care. But I care about myself more and being with you meant caring about myself less every day. She wiped her eyes, mascara smearing. I thought you loved me. I did.
But loving someone doesn't mean letting them destroy you. My phone buzzed. Text from my boss asking if I could join a client call in 10 minutes. I have to get back to work. Please don't do this. I'm begging you. Give me another chance. No. Just like that? No. Just like that. I walked back toward the building entrance.
She called after me. You'll regret this. You'll realize what you gave up. I turned back one last time. The only thing I regret is not doing this sooner. Then I went inside, swiped my badge, and went back to my life. My actual life. Not the one I'd been performing for someone who would never be satisfied. That was 3 weeks ago.
Natalie tried calling twice more that day. I blocked her number. She tried messaging me on Instagram. Blocked her there, too. She showed up at my apartment building once, but the doorman didn't let her up per my request. From what I hear through mutual friends, she's been struggling. Told everyone I blindsided her with the breakup. That I changed and became cold.
That she didn't see it coming. Which is hilarious considering she's the one who asked for space and criticized me for 3 weeks straight. Apparently, Anthony stopped responding to her messages once he realized she was available. Guess he was more interested in the chase than the actual person.
Her work friends have been less sympathetic than she expected. Turns out they all thought she was too hard on me. Me? I'm doing great. Last week, Natalie sent me an email. A long one. Talking about how she realizes she had unrealistic expectations. How she took out her own insecurities on me. How she wants closure. I didn't respond.
Not because I'm trying to be cruel, but because I don't owe her closure. Sometimes the closure is in the ending itself.
