“Well, I don’t really see it as dumping you,” he reasoned, “more like we’re taking a break.”

“That usually involves both parties having a say in the matter,” I explained to him, making every attempt to curtail my desire reach through the phone, rip out his tongue, and whip his backside with it.  “I see it as you dumping me. It’s fairly simple, really.”

He stuttered for a moment, desperate to find something meaningful to say to keep me from hanging up the phone, before finally settling on a self-pitying and troubled groan.  “I really wish you’d look at it differently.”

I’d been dating The Young One for a mere three to four weeks, routinely reassessing the appropriateness of my decision to ignore the obvious age gap between us and attempting to assuage my fears of becoming a dirty old cougar, when a sudden twist of fate incited within him a decision to flee this little thing we had started.  With a maturity level that was unable to comprehend any proposed logic behind his decision, I simply couldn’t see how he expected me to wait it out while he ‘got his life together’.

Never one to accept wisdom from those who have walked in his shoes, it was pointless to try to explain to him just how long it actually takes for one to get one’s life in order (given the depth of chaos my own life was still immersed in).  It was pointless to question why, when life takes an unfortunate turn, he felt it better to cast me aside, blaming superficial circumstances and weak reasoning.  It was pointless to wonder why he chose to hurt me.

The overwhelming desire to point out the obvious to him was maddening – I wanted nothing more than to take him by the shoulders, shake him, and tell him that he was insane to think I’d sit idly by, waiting for him to decide to come back to me when we only had a miniscule amount of time under our collective belts anyway.  Just because he thought he was in love, doesn’t make it real.

“Listen,” I said, exasperated by the thought of him, “you can’t expect me to wait this out for you.  You made a choice, and in that process, you pulled a pretty hurtful move.”

“Abby, please,” he begged, “don’t just disregard what we have. Please.”

“I don’t have to,” I said flatly. “You already did that for both of us.”

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