Let me start of by saying that Yolanda is not my real name. For numerous reasons, none of the names here will be real, and few of the places and situations might be altered to maintain confidentiality. However everything else is completely real.
So why am I writing this blog if I won’t even tell you who I am? Many years ago my therapist told me that I should write a book about my life. Then he paused, and said on second thought, no one would believe it. He was neither the first nor the last person to tell me this. So here I am.
Here’s a little background on me: I’m a college student. I won’t tell you which college exactly, but I will say it’s warm here. I won’t tell you where I come from originally, other than that it’s cold there. I much prefer it here. Maybe someday you’ll learn more than that. I work to put myself through college. It’s a desk job. My office is located above a bar. Yeah, it’s legit.
What really prompted me to start this blog is my recent break-up with my live-in boyfriend. We broke up four months into a year lease. Let’s call him Scott, shall we? Scott and I had been together for two years when we moved in together.
The break-up started two weeks ago. We were talking, and it got around to the fact that we’d probably break up when he leaves for the summer (for reasons that are neither interesting nor which I am willing to go into). We (I) were listing all of the reasons why it wouldn’t work. Later that night, I get messaged on my computer (we have separate bedrooms, literally one wall apart from each other). Asking if we’re still together. I reply that I don’t know, and we again list all of the reasons why it won’t work out. I asked if he really thought we’d be together forever, ’cause I sure didn’t.
The next day, I don’t see Scott until he gets home from class. I happened to have a group over working on a final project, so we act normal towards each other. I ask if he still wanted to do the planned dinner. He said yes, so I cooked. Somehow we had come to the agreement to pretend that nothing had happened.
This week was the last week of classes, and when finals start. We’re both busy so neither of us talk to the other much until the weekend. Then the conversation comes up, and how we never really decided what was going on. We agree that the relationship is doomed. He cries. I cry a bit. Then we watch t.v. together. It was Doctor Who if anyone was curious, a brilliant show.
He still hasn’t told his family. I got an email this past week inviting me to spend Christmas with them. I have yet to reply.
Living together is well… interesting. We had our first post-break-up fight. Over the proper way to load the dishwasher. I think we came to some sort of compromise on that issue, but only time will tell.