I was never really good at breaking up with people.

To this day, I have trouble with confrontation.

Unless it’s a situation where I am provoked in some way, most the time, I just pity the other person to a point where I make up lies to hurt their feelings less.

Fourteen years ago I broke up with a boy because I told him I was uncertain of my sexuality and I was allergic to cats, and his mom had four. Neither of which were true.

Except the cat part.  That just seemed excessive to me.

One cat, fine.  Two cats, sure, animals need a friend.  But, three is an orgy, and four is just sadistic.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like him. I kinda did.  He was cute, and older than me, which were definitely pros.

He asked me out after church one Sunday, a point which, I’m sure, made my mother simultaneously cream her pants and start brainstorming wedding locations.

And, he looked adorable in his khaki cargo pants and button up shirt, so I said yes.

But, when he picked me up, he was wearing skin tight white jeans and high tops. That’s the problem with Catholic school boys. They look hot in church, but like weirdo foreign tourists in civilian clothes.

We had our date, I don’t recall a ton of it, only that we listened to an Adam Sandler comedy tape and he kissed me on the cheek, but I couldn’t get passed the jeans, and I was a teenager and totally allowed to be petty.

I avoided his calls for the rest of the week.

Finally, because I was that afraid of hurting people’s feelings, I had to talk to him.

I’m sorry, I’ve had to do a lot of soul searching this past week.

Soul searching at 15, that sounds deep.

Yes, well, I’m a super deep person, with lots of, like, internal conflicts.

I see.

I’m allergic to cats, I just don’t see how this relationship can work without me like, dying when my throat closes up and my intestines seize and I swallow my tongue.

Um, wow, that sounds dangerous, I didn’t think I was covered in cat hair or anything to cause such a reaction, you seemed fine the other night?

Oh, it only takes one hair.  If it gets in my mouth, I basically have an hour to live unless I get to the hospital for the antidote.

Did I get cat hair in your mouth the other day?

And I think I might like girls, soooo…


Girls.  Girl parts, I think, like, I like them.  You know, more than I like boy parts.


No offense, from what I could see through your jeans, your parts looked fine, you know, if I was sure I was into that whole thing.  Which I’m not. Obviously.  That’s why, um, I’m telling you this now.



He was so kind, and I felt like a complete asshole.

He now works with Andy.

It’s not awkward at all.

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