The Audacity of Dumping Me
My boyfriend got a tenure-track offer from Ashford University—and the night he found out, he cried in my arms for hours.
Before he left the country, he held my hand, looking guilty.
"Babe, the cost of living over there is insane, and you probably won't be able to find a decent job. Once I get settled, I'll bring you over in style…"
He paused, waiting for me to appreciate how "considerate" he was being.
What he didn't know was that just half an hour earlier, I'd overheard him on the balcony.
"Don't worry, the tickets are booked. We're going together. No way I'm leaving you behind."
On the other end of the line was his gentle, sweet junior.
He'd spent years looking down on my education, always saying I couldn't understand his "soul."
But every time I handed him my tips from waiting tables and delivering takeout—stained envelopes, greasy and crumpled—he'd take them like he was doing me a favor.
What he also didn't know was that I'd long since gotten tired of playing the "I'll work to put you through school" bit.
I only started dating him because he was cute—I wanted a little thrill.
I just didn't expect to keep the act going for three years. And for a second here and there, I almost believed it myself.
I was already looking for an excuse to dump him. Then he handed me one on a silver platter.
So when he gave his little speech, I barely held back a smile as I fixed his collar.
"Okay. Then take good care of yourself over there. I'm gonna be late for my night shift. Gotta go."
I turned around and called my best friend.
"Book me a table at VIVA tonight. I'm single again—time to party."