Basically I was dating Mel because all my friends were dating someone at the time too.

In my mind, there was no question that this was NOT a girl I was going to bring home to mom, but I figured short-term she would be worth tolerating for some non-canned home cooked meals and convenient sex.

Sadly I got very little of either over the course of our six-month relationship. What I did get was constant grief. Though we both knew we were incompatible, Mel–like many other embittered women–was sure that this was due to my inability to change into a totally different person.

Whereas two logical people would simply look at their missmatched hearts, throw in the towel, shake hands, and dive back into the dating pool, Mel and I continued to grind on, like two sides of a fault line.I dreamed about breaking up with her. After fights, she would storm home–phone already to her ear as she prepared to inform the rest of the female population of my inadequacies–and I would lay in bed and rehearse our final scene. I had never seen her cry, and while I hate seeing anyone cry her resilience had created a perverse (but thus far unacted upon) desire to see her beg tearfully for my forgiveness, which of course I would deny her.

I spent so much time indulging in these fantasies, I barely had any time to fantasize about other things. Instead of actually ending the relationship I just thought about it all the time and this thought became the soul source of happiness in our relationship. One night post-fight as I was again fantasizing in my bed, my phone beeped. “It’s over.” Short and sweet. In a matter of seconds, Mel had negated weeks of monologue work.

And SHE had dumped ME. Dare I tell the truth? I did the unthinkable. Call it shock, call it disappointment, call it insanity, but I called her immediately, and…I cried…on her voicemail. For weeks I was distraught and my friends were baffled. “But you didn’t even like her man.” How to explain?

Six months of agitation and very little sex, and I didn’t even get to be the one to drop the ball.

Cabanerd, 22

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