Dating Games(4)

The more I speak, the louder my voice becomes. Gone is the heartbreak that consumed me when I watched Trevor walk out of my life without a single glance back. Now I’m annoyed. Annoyed that I gave twelve years to a man who tossed it aside because he didn’t think I was serious enough to be the wife of a partner at some stuffy law firm. Annoyed that I put so much effort into being the perfect girlfriend I believed he deserved. Annoyed I didn’t see the signs he wasn’t happy.

“What did he say next?” Nora pulls her left hand away, hiding the engagement ring on her finger. When she first told us she was getting married, Chloe and I were both shocked. She’d only been dating her fiancé for three months, not to mention he started as a Tinder hookup that turned into more than a one-time thing. Although I doubt I’d personally be able to overlook the idea that my partner had been a player before me, he makes Nora happy. That’s all I care about.

“What do you think? I was so wrapped up in the moment, it didn’t register he broke up with me at first. I was about to squeal ‘yes’ at the top of my lungs, but as I opened my mouth, I replayed his words in my mind. That’s when I realized he wasn’t reaching into his jacket for some ridiculously expensive ring. Instead, he said it was time we both went our separate ways. That if he wants to be partner, he needs to be more ‘serious’,” I explain, using air quotes.

“More serious?” Chloe’s voice is laden with disgust. As far as friends go, she’s the cynical one. Nora’s the romantic one. And me… Well, I’m not sure what I am. They’d probably say I’m a mixture of both.

“Apparently, he doesn’t consider a woman who writes about sex and dating for a living as serious, at least not to his standards. But that’s complete bullshit! I’m serious! Look at me.” I gesture at my business attire. Then I raise my martini glass. “I’m drinking alcohol out of a glass with a stem. If that doesn’t say maturity, I don’t know what does. If I were immature, you two would be holding my legs in the air while I did a keg stand or something like that.”

“I don’t think he means you’re immature,” Nora assures me with all the sympathy and compassion I’ve come to expect from her. “You’re sophisticated, motivated, not to mention talented. Don’t mistake immaturity as having a sense of humor. You have the latter in spades. Regardless, you’re also driven. How many other people can claim to be doing exactly what they set their mind to when they were just a teenager?”

I shrug, brushing it off.

“You made your own way in this industry,” Chloe adds. “The only reason I got the job I did was because my dad works for the Times and made phone calls. Not you. You didn’t know a soul. You got in on talent and drive alone. So don’t let Trevor make you think you lack motivation.”

“Oh, but I do.” My voice oozes sarcasm. “Obviously, since I have a degree in English, I should be doing something more than writing articles about sex. But I like having a sex and dating column.”

“He’s a prick for not supporting you, especially if you enjoy what you do. I don’t see you giving him a hard time for not making partner yet.”

I scoff. “Well, according to him, at least he has a real job.” I dig my fingers through my hair, yanking at it, groaning in frustration. “Couldn’t he have chosen a different day? Any other day? Now I’ll forever equate my thirtieth birthday with the day he broke up with me.”

I reach for my drink, about to take another sip, when I spy a handsome man in a suit walking past the bar, his hand on the lower back of a beautiful woman wearing a cocktail dress. The alcohol loosening my inhibitions, I call out to him. “Hey! You!”

Surprisingly, he pauses, both he and who I assume to be his date looking at me. They probably stopped here to grab a drink before heading off to the theater or some romantic dinner. Hell, he may even be proposing tonight.

“You look like a person with good judgment, someone who’s not a complete moron.”

“Thank…you?” he replies with a wavering smile, unsure what to make of my statement.

“Would you ever break up with your girlfriend on an important date, say… I don’t know. I’ll just pull something out of thin air. Her birthday?”

“God no.” He laughs, peering down at the woman beside him. There’s a warmth and affection between them. I had that. At least I thought I did. Now what am I supposed to do?

I don’t know life without Trevor in it. I’ve never imagined the possibility. Am I supposed to pretend I’ll be okay, that I can fall out of love as quickly as he did? We were together longer than most married couples. At least longer than Brittany Spears’ marriages.

He looks back to me. “I’d never live to see another day if I did that.”

“Thank you, sir!” I lift my glass, toasting him. “You are a gentleman. My boyfriend, well…ex-boyfriend is not. It’s my thirtieth birthday today.”

The bar erupts in applause and congratulatory shouts of happy birthday. I’m not sure why, but something about the combination of their applause and the alcohol flowing through me has me standing and curtseying to my new friends.

“Thank you. Thank you. And do you know what my boyfriend of twelve years gave me as a birthday present?”

I scan the bar area. Now that it’s close to seven on a Thursday night, the booths and tables in the remodeled industrial space are filled with a mixture of locals and tourists. Despite that, the background chatter has become almost non-existent, everyone interested in what I have to say. I suppose learning about a stranger’s pathetic heartbreak is infinitely more interesting than discussing the unstable markets.