This is the second installment in the saga about my broken engagement with my high school sweetheart, Kate. If you missed the first part, please read it first.
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"We need to talk" is one of the worst phrases in the English language. "We need to talk" never leads to talking about anything fun.
And it didn't in my case, either.
Turns out she had been seeing the Teacher's Assistant of her Organic Chemistry class. It started out innocently enough with him helping her with some complex diagrams and then one thing leads to another and she's getting extra credit in the bedroom.
So I did what any normal jilted lover would do: I pouted.
I became the clichéd all-in-black, weepy, death-of-every-party, bitchy, parked-outside-her-apartment, listening-to-sad-songs-on-a-loop, whiny, runny-mascara mess. I was a male version of "Joe lies… when he cries," only ten times worse. It got so bad that all the guys on the floor of my dorm made a pact to keep someone with me at all times, just so I wouldn't do anything stupid.
I was heartbroken.
I was empty.
I was lost.
But gradually, I pulled myself up. I started hanging out with my friends more and more. After about a month, I started going to places other than class. I met some really cool people and though I hadn't forgotten about her and what she had done to me, I was moving on.
Until the night I saw them together.
I was out playing pool and drinking pitchers with friends. One of my friends came over to me and said, "Dude, let's get out of here. This place is dead."
"What are you talking about? I'm having a good time."
"Ok. But I've got to warn you: Lisa just walked in with her boyfriend."
I scanned the bar and saw them sitting at a table near the entrance. Every emotion my heart had experienced in the previous weeks rushed through me. I felt the urge to make one last stab at winning her back. So I walked over to their table.
"Chag!" she screamed, an equal mix of surprise and dread.
"Hi, Lisa. How are you doing?" I asked.
The TA got up. "So you're the ex?"
"Yes," I said. "You must be the asshole who ruined my life."
"Look, buddy," he explained. "It just sort of happened."
"Why don't you just shut the hell up for a few minutes so I can talk to Lisa?" I demanded.
"I think you need to leave," he said, puffing out his chest.
So I punched him.
And then I dove on top of him, taking him to the floor. I started pounding the hell out of him. It was a great release. Unfortunately, an off-duty cop was also at the bar. He pulled me off the TA, handcuffed me, and hauled me off to jail on a Drunk and Disorderly charge.
I spent the night in jail. Under normal circumstances, I would've been scared to spend a night in jail. But I was on a high. I was pacing the cell like a caged tiger. I was seething. I couldn't think straight.
But at least I left with a plan of revenge.
Onward to Part III!
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I have disabled comments for this post. I want you to read the entire saga before taking sides, forming opinions, and all that jazz.
Song of the day: Nothing Better by The Postal Service
The Broken Engagement, Part II: The Broken Nose
