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I’ve never seen someone widen their eyes and cross their arms with as much sass as Amanda does right now. I’ve also never seen a more offended look on a person’s face. Somehow, these words are more of an insult to her than my Liv confession.
Yeah, the way she looks right now, if we were out in public, people would think I’ve just said some way dickheaded shit to my woman.
That wouldn’t be true, though. Any offense she has taken from this part of our conversation is unfounded. All those things I mentioned—and more—have really been happening, some since the day I met her and others more recently.
And I’ll say it again: I don’t know why I’ve put up with it all. Amanda’s beautiful, so there’s that, I guess. Also, since I had the biggest crush on her throughout high school, rose-colored glasses might’ve played a part in this relationship.
But Ihavehad enough. I really did have some sense knocked into me last night when the candy got dislodged from my airway. I drew that painfully wonderful new breath and realized life shouldn’t be taken for granted…and realized I’ve been doing a piss-poor job of properly appreciating mine.
Two years ago, before I got with Amanda, my grandpa died. It was very abrupt—he had a heart attack and didn’t last an hour—and it hurt Lolly and me a hell of a lot, so much so that she suffered a small stroke. I had an epiphany about mortality then, too. It was a little different from last night’s, but it did get me thinking I needed to seek something real in life. Up to that point, I had just kind of breezed through the years, having fun with my friends, not really taking anything seriously besides work; I was enjoying life, but not very deeply. When I decided to finally take a risk, I looked Amanda up and asked her out.
I was proud of myself. I thought I’d finally done something special.
It took me these last two years to see that being with her wasn’t really so great, but that’s okay. I’m twenty-seven—still young. And life is still out there.
And, seriously, I’m thrilled about it.
I know my brush with death wasn’t very dramatic. I know it might even sound a little silly. Maybe I’ll laugh about it one day. But here’s the truth today: it doesn’t matter if you’re choking on candy or bleeding out from a gunshot wound or noticing too late the car you’re fixing to crash into head-on—death isterrifying.
The thought of your body being nothing but literal dead weight is terrifying.
The thought of your loved ones hearing there’s been an accident and you’re not alive anymore is terrifying.
And the thought of having wasted the life you had is both terrifying and humiliating.
I didnotwant to die having clung to a spoiled, selfish, insincere girlfriend like an attention-starved idiot. Didn’t want to die knowing I could’ve had and been and done so much better in my time on this planet.
So after the Jolly Ranchers came out, I filled my lungs with air and fully,fullyappreciated it. Then I turned to that gorgeous lifesaver I see around all the time, and I appreciated her, too. And then I appreciated a simple glass of cold water and the company of a person who turned out to be truly interesting.
It was so fun. So refreshing.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m not breaking up with Amanda because of Liv-Andria herself. She’s intriguing and really pretty and I’d definitely like to be her friend, but I’m actually more concerned with myself right now. I’m breaking up with Amanda because my latest epiphany has inspired me to try once again to get things right.
She snaps, “I hope you’re being so fucking quiet because you’re thinking about how to take back everything you said.”
I blink out of my thoughts and frown at her. “Hardly. It’s really over. And don’t act like you’re all upset about it, either. I’m sure the guy you had that cosmic connection with will be overjoyed to have you stay with him again.” I snap my fingers as I recall what it was she told me. “You just couldn’t let each other go, right? Well, now you don’t have to. Congratulations.”
Quick as a whip, she slaps me across the face.
I bite back a string of horrible expletives. Then I suck on my teeth and gesture toward my front door. Her stuff is already out in the hallway; I lived here before we got together and she’s no longer welcome, so I packed for her after she left for her early-as-hell hair appointment this morning. Thought it was best for her to be kicked out when she returned.
“His dick iswaybigger than yours,” she says as she walks around me.
I can’t help but chuckle. That’s the most cliché insult ever. “I say to you again, congratulations.”
I hear her fling the door open and, after a second, slam it shut again.
Sighing deeply, I put a hand against my stinging cheek. I can only hope that slap is the extent of her retaliation. I’ve been lucky enough not to deal with any messy breakups in my life and I don’t want to start now.
I take a second to let that sink in: I’ve just broken up with Amanda.
After two years, I’m single again. Free to do whatever I want to make myself happy without catching a bunch of shit from the whiniest, most self-centered woman I’ve ever met.
At the thought of self-centered women, I’m reminded of Liv, who doesn’t seem to fit that description. The legal guardian of a seven?-year-old….I’m still amazed by it. I know people take on responsibilities like that, obviously, since Lolly and Pop did it for me when my parents abandoned me, but I’ve never known anyone else with a similar situation. And I’ve seen Liv around with the little girl, but I never thought much about it. What was the point of pondering the fact that she had a kid with her all the time? It wasn’t my business since I wasn’t seriously considering getting close to her in any way. I was in a relationship.
‘Was.’
God, is it true? Do I really get to return to spending my money on things I think are worth buying? Do I really have my bathroom counter space back? Can I go back to sleeping with a blanket that doesn’t have sharp-ass sequins on it?
