Hey, my name is Elisa, and I was dumped about a month and a half ago. Here's the scoop.
One day I came home from work, and my boyfriend wasn't home. I called his friends...nope, not with them. Then his friends called me and asked if I knew where he was. I was, like, "He isn't with you guys?" They said he wasn't. I was confused.
He eventually comes home and tells me that he's going to spend some time alone. The whole time I've been with him, there was never a day when he wanted to be alone. He hates being alone. Then this goes on for a few days.
So I stop him as we're leaving the house and say that we need to talk. He tells me that he needs a break, that he needs some "alone time." Yeah, right. Do I seem that stupid? Then he lays this big lie on me, which I believed at the time. I cried my eyes out every day after that because I loved him so. I mean, hard core.
I wanted to talk every day about the breakup. Why did it need to be a breakup? He just said, "I'm tired of you wanting to talk. Get over it." This happened for weeks. He started leaving the house more often, talking on the phone more. Mostly speaking in Spanish, and I don't understand español. I'm Mexican, but, sorry, I fell asleep in that class.
He was in the shower one day, and I saw that his wallet was thicker than usual, so I took a peek. There was a Denny's placemat with "I love you" written back and forth on it, like a conversation. Guess who? Him and his ex-girlfriend! They went to Denny's together while he was with me -- how rude! I confronted him. He said it was my fault for looking in his things. If he had been honest from the start then he wouldn't have gotten caught! He said they were just friends.
After that he talked to her almost five times a day. Then he said that I needed to move out. I said, "I have no place to go." He said, "Oh, well. I'll give you a month, then you're gone." I explained my love for him and that I was so depressed because of our breakup. Not a tear. Not from him. No concern whatsoever.
For the next month he kept talking to her, in front of me, in Spanish. Other girls, too. No respect for me whatsoever. I washed his clothes, fed him, helped him do all the simple day-to-day things. And, nothing. I forgave him for almost killing me in a rollover accident that he created. In my car. But, nope, not a tear from him.
Finally, all we did was fight because I was so angry that he was treating me badly. And I began to feel that staying there was him using me. I moved back in with my parents.
I still feel he uses me. And I try to stay away from him and his disrespect. The funny thing is, I hate being alone, too.
Tell us the story of your breakup and/or date from hell and we will publish it and pay you ($100 for 500-2000 words).
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San Diego Reader/Dumped
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