When a guy tells a woman that their relationship is a "mistake", is it regret or . . . ?
I woke up very early and strode to my living room in my nightwear. Max moved out of my apartment to his house last night, he just took his clothes and he will be coming back later for the rest of his belongings. I made myself a cup of coffee, went back to my dressing room to pick clothes. I'll be going to inform Sandra that my wedding has been cancelled and as such, she's been relieved of her maid of honor duties till further notice.* * * * * * * * * * * *I arrived at Sandra's apartment on the Park Avenue East. * * * * * * * * * * * * *"What's wrong?" She asked as she answered the door.I suddenly got this wave of comfort as those familiar words of hers soothed me. Sandra is a true friend, and every time she asks me*'what's wrong'*, she's goes Into *mommy bear* mode and follows it up with a *'everything's gonna be alright'*. Sandra can fix anything, which always makes me feel better.I took a deep breath and walked into her orderly, neat and standard apartment. She was rattling ab
"You liar!" I screamed at him as I began to hyperventilate. Honestly, I am accustomed to drama. I invented drama. I thrive on drama. I am the drama. But not this kind. Not the kind of drama that I didn't control from the onset. Max got out of the closet and started dressing calmly, putting one foot and then the other into his jeans, zipping defiantly. There isn't a trace of guilt on his face. It was as if I had only accused him of stealing the covers at night or stealing my Fox's Fabulous Chocolate Cookies that I love to eat with ice cream. "You fucking lied to me!" I shouted again, louder this time."You have got to be kidding me," he said. His baritone voice sounds shockingly low. "Fuck you, Tessy."In all my life as a woman, no man has ever said *that* to me. And, in my years with Max, he has never said those words to me. Those are my words of last resort. Not his. I decided to try again. "You said there was nobody else in the picture! And you're fucking my best friend!" I shou
I burst into Jon's sloppy studio, where he sat cross-legged on the floor, playing a melody on his guitar that sounded vaguely like the refrain in "Angel eyes."He looked up at me, his expression a blend of annoyance and bemusement. "What's wrong *now*?" he said.I resent his use of the word *now*, implying that I'm always in a crisis. I couldn't help what had happened to me. So I hurled myself to the floor, and started narrating the whole story, sparing no detail. Still, nothing from Jon, no outrage from my new beau. Or at least shock. Well, I kept going with the story, with a little exaggeration, yet it still didn't whip him into the same frenzy state that I'm in. Jon ran his hand exhaustively through his hair. "How can you be mad when we did the same thing? Don't we want our friends to be as happy as we are?" he fired at me. That's beside the point, because it's not the same thing. "Hell no. We don't want them to be happy!" I screamed at him.Jon took his guitar, started playin
After the therapeutic discussion with Jon, I made a decision to phone my parents and inform them that the wedding has been cancelled, and of course tell them my shocking discovery today. The earlier I make the call, the higher my chances of narrating the event in my own way. I phoned my family house, my fathered answered, and I told him to put Mom on the other extension."Mom, Dad, the wedding is off. I'm sorry," I said stoically. I don't know if I was too stoic, because my parents instantly assumed that I'm solely to blame for the breakup. "My dear, Max would never cancel a wedding the week before it was to take place," my mother said. She has automatically turned on her sob switch, wailing about how much she loves Max Jordan. I could hear my Dad hushing her up, that he wants to talk.My parents are making me out to be a villian, or, some evil white witch, that spreads sorrows and sadness wherever she goes. At this point, I know I have to drop the closet-story bomb on them. I nar
I woke up on Jon's bed—a bright morning after yesterday's great closet fiasco. This morning feels different. Everything feels so different. I looked around, noticing how bright the morning sun is in his apartment. I studied Jon's profile and his frenzy dark hair as it hit me that the end of our saga has finally come. Jon and I are a done deal with a baby on the way. There's no more Max to creep back to. I felt a rush of adrenaline as I anticipated breaking the news to my friends, coworkers, and acquaintances.What explanation will Max offer to his friends and family? I just wish Max and I have a spokesperson each, so they will contact each other to agree on one unified statement. Just like in all celebrity breakups. Still, after five and a half years, you know a person very well, and I'm positive that Max will keep the indelicate details to himself. I have to consider my options. With Max's silence, I can spin things pretty much my way. Perhaps, tell the whole truth, confess my rela
I maneuvered my way through the busy city's streets to the subway. As I sat down in the moving train, I started considering my strategy on how to break the news. I think I better tell Vanessa. I mean, she's my coworker and my new all-round best friend. She's been promoted from work best friend to all-round best friend, because Sandra has been fired! And, as such, Vanessa is free to spread the word, criticize and spare no ailing detail about Sandra.But, seems that my *tell-on-tell* won't be today, because Vanessa has an out-of-office meeting with a potential new client this morning. Maybe, I should just stick with Jon's suggestion, write an email and get it over and done with. * * * * * * * * * * * * * I got to my office, settled into my chair in front of my computer and quickly rattled in my breaking news:*'Good morning, everyone. This is to inform you all that my wedding will not be taking place this Saturday. It was a tough decision, but I know I'm doing the right thing. I'm aw
"Omigod! This is so good!" I moaned loudly, as I kept pounding on top Jon. His hands are on my waist aiding me to move up and down in a steady rhythm. My full, perky breasts bouncing because of the movement of my waist, and my hair all swept up to stop it from getting in the way when I want to kiss Jon, and I really want to keep seeing this gorgeous man's face. Jon rolled me over, my back to the bed and he is on top of me, kissing me hungrily. "You taste so good, my baby," he whispered in my ears, and made for my neck, kissing and licking with each rhythmic throb.A shiver ran down my spine and I began scratching and clawing his back. I can't have enough of him. "I want you everytime. I love you so much," I said. "I'm about to come, baby," Jon said.I whispered that he's allowed to, after all we have a baby on the way. There's nothing like *'extra pregnant'*, it's either you're pregnant or not, and no one can get pregnant on top of an already existing pregnancy. Jon came, looked a
Jon and I headed back to his apartment after dinner. As I walked in through the door, I rushed to check my messages. I have thirty at work, fifteen at home. So, in nine hours, I've gotten forty-five messages. Only five are work related, so, this means forty personal messages. I sat at Jon's leather seat in his parlor, listening to the words of support as I took notes on a pad. I got to the very last message, the third message from Vanessa. I looked up at Jon. "They didn't call," I said shocked. "Neither one of them." "Did you think they would?" Jon asked."Yes. They owe me a call. Especially Sandra.""But you said that you never wanted to speak to her again."I shot him an angry look. "She should still try to call and apologize. . . . "Jon gave me this disgusting look and shrugged. I ignored him. "And as for Max, I have to talk to him. About logistics. The wedding stuff," I said. "None of them called. Unbelievable."Jon shrugged again. "I don't know what to tell you.""Okay. For th