Thankfully, the cup didn't break. "It's not my responsibility anymore."
"My family hates me right now. They wanted me there. I left them for you!" His voice raised in volume, but remained a few steps below yelling . No one seemed to have noticed us yet; that was good.
Timothy wanted me to move in with him and allow him to take care of me. He didn't want me to work, just live with him as his woman . Everything he said was so patronizing, even though he was just speaking through the various flavors of his emotions. As difficult as it was, I kept myself under control while he waxed poetic about his idyllic bullshit.
The biggest problem was that he didn't realize how sexist he sounded when he was verbally fleshing out his dreams for me. Sure, his future was supposed to make life comfortable for me. But what if that wasn't what I wanted?
This was ridiculous. I had been set up in this most basic and harmless of social situations—the coffee shop meet. I hadn't agreed to stay the night with him or go out for a fancy dinner. I hadn't even talked to him since we broke up. I had given him an inch and he was doing his very damndest to take miles from me. Jack was going to be in hysterics after I told him how poorly his innocent suggestion had turned out.
No, it wasn't Jack's fault either.
"You can't just move here and expect me to get back with you." My coffee was almost gone and that just served to frustrate me even more. "And don't blame the tension with your family on me . That's for y ou to sort out on your own."
He blinked in slow motion, as if he were doing it for the very first time ever. "Effie, why are you doing this to me? Things were so good before."
Ugh, he reminded me of the fact that things hadn't been good before. Leading up to the breakup, I could barely even think of him as a boyfriend. We lived together and slept in the same bed. We occasionally had sex—it was adequate; I wouldn't lie about that even if I was pissed—and shared meals. These were the motions of our lives, carried out day after day ad infinitum.
Certainly not happily ever after sort of material.
No, we hadn't had fun together in ages. Part of it was probably due to school, but it was clear to me that we couldn't survive. You know, plus the whole job in New York City thing for me. The fact that I actually wanted to work was a problem for Timothy as well.
"It was just fun for you . Tim, I came here to be polite, not give into all of your demands. This isn't a negotiation. My mind is made up already . " I unconsciously shifted in my chair after completing the sentence.
His brow furrowed as he suddenly grew quieter, sullen. I saw a spark inside of him, one that was as far from positive as possible. "Are you seeing someone else?"
"It's none of your business, Timothy." I realized that saying those words in particular would set him off, but I had no other way to properly describe the situation and how I was feeling. I felt a tiny pang of guilt as I watched the horror creeping across his face as if he'd just witnessed a murder. It had only been about two months since we had officially separated—and he didn't like this.
I wasn't about to let him hand-deliver me a toxic guilt-trip. It hadn't felt like anything for almost a year! I couldn't get down on myself for wanting to move on. I knew he hated vague answers, but I wasn't about to tell him about how infatuated I was with Jack—and how he had fucked my brains out like Timothy never could have. Oh yeah, that would go over really well.
"You've already slept with him." Timothy stared into the empty bottom of his cup like it was a black hole. His simplicity showed no limits.
"I didn't say anything , Timothy, except that I wasn't comfortable discussing the subject with you."
I half expected him to pause at that moment, but he didn't. He charged straight into battle, guns drawn and ready to kill .
"You're a fucking slut, Effie. That's all you are. I come all the way here for you, and you repay
"My family hates me right now. They wanted me there. I left them for you!" His voice raised in volume, but remained a few steps below yelling . No one seemed to have noticed us yet; that was good.
Timothy wanted me to move in with him and allow him to take care of me. He didn't want me to work, just live with him as his woman . Everything he said was so patronizing, even though he was just speaking through the various flavors of his emotions. As difficult as it was, I kept myself under control while he waxed poetic about his idyllic bullshit.
The biggest problem was that he didn't realize how sexist he sounded when he was verbally fleshing out his dreams for me. Sure, his future was supposed to make life comfortable for me. But what if that wasn't what I wanted?
This was ridiculous. I had been set up in this most basic and harmless of social situations—the coffee shop meet. I hadn't agreed to stay the night with him or go out for a fancy dinner. I hadn't even talked to him since we broke up. I had given him an inch and he was doing his very damndest to take miles from me. Jack was going to be in hysterics after I told him how poorly his innocent suggestion had turned out.
No, it wasn't Jack's fault either.
"You can't just move here and expect me to get back with you." My coffee was almost gone and that just served to frustrate me even more. "And don't blame the tension with your family on me . That's for y ou to sort out on your own."
He blinked in slow motion, as if he were doing it for the very first time ever. "Effie, why are you doing this to me? Things were so good before."
Ugh, he reminded me of the fact that things hadn't been good before. Leading up to the breakup, I could barely even think of him as a boyfriend. We lived together and slept in the same bed. We occasionally had sex—it was adequate; I wouldn't lie about that even if I was pissed—and shared meals. These were the motions of our lives, carried out day after day ad infinitum.
Certainly not happily ever after sort of material.
No, we hadn't had fun together in ages. Part of it was probably due to school, but it was clear to me that we couldn't survive. You know, plus the whole job in New York City thing for me. The fact that I actually wanted to work was a problem for Timothy as well.
"It was just fun for you . Tim, I came here to be polite, not give into all of your demands. This isn't a negotiation. My mind is made up already . " I unconsciously shifted in my chair after completing the sentence.
His brow furrowed as he suddenly grew quieter, sullen. I saw a spark inside of him, one that was as far from positive as possible. "Are you seeing someone else?"
"It's none of your business, Timothy." I realized that saying those words in particular would set him off, but I had no other way to properly describe the situation and how I was feeling. I felt a tiny pang of guilt as I watched the horror creeping across his face as if he'd just witnessed a murder. It had only been about two months since we had officially separated—and he didn't like this.
I wasn't about to let him hand-deliver me a toxic guilt-trip. It hadn't felt like anything for almost a year! I couldn't get down on myself for wanting to move on. I knew he hated vague answers, but I wasn't about to tell him about how infatuated I was with Jack—and how he had fucked my brains out like Timothy never could have. Oh yeah, that would go over really well.
"You've already slept with him." Timothy stared into the empty bottom of his cup like it was a black hole. His simplicity showed no limits.
"I didn't say anything , Timothy, except that I wasn't comfortable discussing the subject with you."
I half expected him to pause at that moment, but he didn't. He charged straight into battle, guns drawn and ready to kill .
"You're a fucking slut, Effie. That's all you are. I come all the way here for you, and you repay
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