Memoirs of a Fat Girl

It started innocently enough, just like always. We were talking about the dates I would going to Chicago, and I asked if he wanted to see me. He couldn't or wouldn't answer and instead, made a huge, half-hour long fuss about how I'll never change my ways.

Not a good sign.

This went into how no one else in his life is like this, especially at work. He is admired and respected and well thought of there. Goodie for you. I came back with, "They must not ask you heartfelt questions at work."

To which he replied, "Someone today said me she wants to leave her husband to be with me. Is that heartfelt enough for you?"

Whoa.

I don't remember what I said to that. I do remember thinking about it all weekend and wondering, but what did you tell her? And so I asked him that this morning. He hadn't misled her, he said, because office policy forbids dating.

Maybe so, but you were never one to heed the rules. What about your policies?

This is where shit hit the fan. He doesn't have to explain himself to me. My opinion doesn't matter. He is never angry like this and no one else makes him angry like this, just me. He's doing well, he's happy with his life and he's moved on. I just refuse to see that.

Well then darling, let me assure you that right now, it's crystal fucking clear.

Before I hung up, I told him to shove my plane ticket up his ass.