Dollar Signs: Do You Only See My Money?

“Let’s break up.”

Did he really just say that? It’s hard to believe that he could actually be that much of a jerk. Then again, maybe it’s not that surprising. This always happens.

Just when I begin to think he’s different. Just when I begin to trust.

He proves me wrong.

What I don’t understand is why it always has to be in a public place. If you’re going to dump a person you should at least have the decency to do it privately. But no. They always seem to pick the best restaurant in the most affluent part of the city, the most expensive dish and the priciest wine. And only when they’ve finished their desert, do they tell me that it’s over. That they’re done. That we’re through.

Which would be fine, if it wasn’t for the fact they always leave me with the bill. Every time. It’s like they’re trying to get their money’s worth or something.

“Okay. Let’s do that,” I say with a surprising amount of tenacity. I have no intentions of letting him know that I’m hurt; my shoulders tense, my breath catching but I will not cry. I refuse. I won’t do it. I won’t let him see that.

In the past, I might have asked why but after a few break ups the answers all sound too similar. And it’s not like he’d actually tell me the truth, people rarely do that. It doesn’t really matter either does it? An explanation won’t give me my time back. Or make me feel any better about it.

“You should move out,” he says, his face completely serious. He doesn’t realise how absurd he sounds. That I would move out when I’m the one paying the bills.

“Excuse me?” I count to five, my shoulders shaking as I try to control myself. I can’t react. I can’t scream at him like a banshee though it’s tempting. I can’t cry or cause a scene because in the end, it will be me that looks bad.

My name that will be plastered all over the tabloids.

“It makes sense. You can just go home.”

“Fine,” I say between gritted teeth instead of saying what I want to say, that he could ‘just go home.’

I glance around me, holding back tears. There are so many people in this restaurant. I can’t believe he’s doing this. I thought we were serious. I even introduced him to my grandma. I took him home and paraded him about like he was the best thing to ever happened to me.

He made promises. Real promises that I believed. Trusted.

He was supposed to be different.

Taking my phone from my purse, I type out a quick text to my grandmother’s assistant. He’s probably the most efficient person I’ve ever met. He’ll have everything resolved before the end of the night. And I’m not just talking about getting my stuff moved back but the legal quandary that is our lease agreement.

“I’m glad you could be reasonable about this.”

The jerk has some nerve, either that or he needs to purchase a dictionary. He clearly doesn’t know the definition of the word reasonable. I consider educating him on the matter but really what would that achieve. I’d just get more angry and the chances of me actually keeping whatever composure I’m clinging to would plummet.

“There’s just no point staying together,” he carries on. “We’re so different. You’re too…”

His hesitance is so fake. The pretentious pig knows exactly what he wants to say but he’s got a flare for the dramatic all of a sudden.