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After a college career spent learning psychology and education, this was where it got me. A sad reality spent drooling over an idiot ex-fiancé that wanted nothing to do with the real me.
Landon was much more interested in the pathetic picture of a cookie cutter wife he wanted me to fit into. I’d basically put my life and dreams on hold when I dropped everything and followed him into the city.
Months of applying for jobs resulted in mostly nanny offers, until I received a phone call from a high school in Queens. The facility was in dire need of a sex-education teacher. Rumor had it, the former teacher was let go after getting caught making out with her student in the locker room. Yuck!
The stress from the last few months of a sad relationship and a thankless job was showing - especially in my figure. I’d put on some noticeable weight around my mid-section and rear. Getting into my favorite pair of jeans became a creative process, entailing deep yoga breaths and a prayer. I seriously felt for my poor zipper which held on for dear life. I’ve always been a curvy girl, but things were beginning to get ridiculous - even by my standards.
If that wasn’t enough to stress over, I was stuck in the middle of a city I hated, and teaching children a subject I had less knowledge about then they did.
“How many sexual partners have you had, Miss Lancaster?” a girl asked.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“How many blow jobs have you given?!” a boy shouted.
“That is not an appropriate question,” I said.
“I’ve had three,” a girl said.
“Dude, me too!” another exclaimed.
“I’m still a virgin, but I’m changin’ that tonight,” someone else chimed in.
God help me. My middle sch
ool kids were more sexually experienced than I was.
“All right, everyone! Pop quiz!”
All of them groaned while I handed out the papers. Then I sat back at my desk and took out my phone. The quiz was supposed to be for tomorrow, a little parting gift before Christmas break, but I had to do something to bring the embarrassment to a halt. When I first moved to New York City, it was on the heels of my fiancé.
His entire business empire was here, and it was assumed I would follow him. When I got here, I was in desperate need of a job. Even though I moved, we weren’t living together officially, and up until a few weeks ago, I could hardly get him to nail down a wedding date. He expected me to follow him wherever he went, but he didn’t want to give me solid commitment. It was total bullshit and I was sick of playing games.
The funniest part was that he was the one that wooed me relentlessly at first. In college, he’d been romantic. He took me on random plane trips to the other side of the country and surprised me with dozens of roses after end-of-semester exams. He showered me with attention, and he was gentle when he took my virginity. He opened my mind sexually to things I never thought I would experience - and up until this job, I thought I was well-versed in the art of sex.
But clearly, I was not.
Unlike me, Landon was wild and spontaneous. He was a buyer while I was a window shopper. If there was something I even stared at long enough, he would get it without a second thought. I’ve never liked the idea of letting someone buy my affection, but he would object. He genuinely wanted to express his love, and I guess it was the best way he knew how.
But when we graduated, things changed.
Suddenly, he wanted to know what I planned to do with my life. He wondered why I wasn’t pursuing a Master’s in Business or focusing on becoming the best paid educator in the nation. Pursing money or recognition wasn’t important to me; I wanted to help people – specifically in their relationships.
I grew up in a broken household, with parents that hated each other. It eventually led to a bitter divorce, which was the worst memory of my childhood. Luckily I managed to move on with my life, but my sister, Abby, had major issues dealing. Even as an adult, she blames her troubles with commitment to my parents’ failed relationship. The girl refused to commit to a puppy, much less a man. It was hard to witness; especially knowing she was limiting her own happiness out of fear.
Growing up, I promised myself I would find a way to help others avoid the struggles that came out of poor relationships. I told Landon I wanted to build my own YouTube empire, based solely around relationship advice, and once I could work up the courage, share tactics couples could use to spice up their life.
And all Landon did was throw his head back and laugh. He told me I was coming to New York City with him after we graduated, so I followed. He proposed to me the moment we stepped off his private jet, and suddenly, all my anger melted away. He wrapped me in his arms and told me he was sorry, that he supported me in whatever decisions I wanted to make.
But the dream was short-lived.
He didn’t want to set a date for the wedding, and he still wanted to jet away on the weekends. Then there was the complete lack of support for my dreams. Whenever I tried to get my YouTube channel up and running, he always had something planned to interrupt me. A charity ball or an event that popped up out of nowhere, diverting me from what I’d sat down to do that evening after searching for jobs.
Eventually, I asked if I could move in officially instead of simply living with him temporarily. When he told me he would think about it I was honestly disappointed.
Truthfully, I was pissed. We were apparently getting married, and he was having trouble committing to shared living quarters?
I wasn’t going to pressure him into making a decision. If it wasn’t one hundred percent his choice to commit then he could take his ring back.
