The Tranquil Vintessa

A week has passed since Erin and I broke up. How am I? Overall, I’m good. By day two, my phone was silent, and I considered texting him. But what would I even say? Instead, I decided to focus on what I could do now that I had some time to myself. I taught my puppy new tricks, got back into yoga, and slowly started to feel like me again.

And you know how it goes—when you start to move on, your ex tends to reach out. Erin was no different. He texted me while I was on a nature walk with my dog. I don’t know why I responded, but I did. He started trying to carry on like nothing had happened until I straight up asked him ‘Why did he text me?’. He told me how much he missed me, how it was obvious that I wasn’t around, and all the reasons he liked me. He even admitted that he might’ve overreacted during our first fight.

After a few more texts, we decided to call each other. He vented about his frustrations and told me the steps he was taking to fix himself. I could feel a strange calm wash over me when he said he missed me, that I was the only one who ever asked how he was doing and genuinely took an interest in his world. It was refreshing, but also heartbreaking. Does no one really ask him how he is?

An hour later, I agreed to go out with him to a sip and paint that weekend. I was hesitant. I didn’t know if I was ready to see him just a week after everything. But I decided to keep an open mind nothing grows from no effort.

When the night came and he picked me up, I was a bundle of emotions. Sure, we’d been texting, but my responses had been short and distant. I wasn’t about to let him back in that easily. As soon as I got into the car, I couldn’t even look at him. I was still angry. The ride was silent and awkward the air between us was thick, and the bartender didn’t even think we were together. The tension was palpable but I enjoy painting so I tried to make the best of the night. But when I would look at him my smile faded and my anger flared up again.

Once the night was done, I asked if we could grab a bite. He said it was too late for him, but I could eat if I wanted. I decided against it and just decided to go home.

I rushed to the car, blaming it on the cold but just frankly ready for the night to be over. Once we got to the car he looked to see if there was something on the way back to my house, like a drive through or something. “Some ‘I’m sorry’ date” I thought.

I really did try to radiate positive energy. But apparently it wasn’t working because silence fell over once again.

“I understand you’re mad, but how long do you think this will be? My time is valuable, and I don’t want to spend it on an angry date.”

What the f***? Is he serious? My heart started to race. I felt my hands begin to shake. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure.

“Can you elaborate on that? I’m not sure I understood you,” I asked, my voice shaking, but trying to sound calm.

“I’m just saying, I don’t want to go out and sit there mad at each other. Like, I don’t know how long this is going to be.”

I sat there in silence, my mind spinning. This was supposed to be our makeup date. This was supposed to be his apology. But apparently, he didn’t have time for that.

He ended our relationship because he was stressed, and now, he didn’t even have time for me to process it? Get all the way the f*** out of here.

As we drove past a McDonald’s, I told him to stop. I wasn’t going to end the night angry and hungry. As we pulled in, he mentioned how this was the bad one—and of course, they got my order wrong three times. My fries weren’t salted. I pinched the top of my nose and closed my eyes to still myself. My body was vibrating. I hadn’t been this angry in a long time.

We reached my apartment and parked.

“I thought you wanted to talk about this.”

“I did,” he said, “I wanted to give you time to yell at me.”

Yell at him? What am I, a child? I didn’t want to yell. I wanted to talk. I wanted him to acknowledge what he’d done. But instead, he thought this was about me throwing a tantrum.

And that’s when it hit me. I had controlled myself this entire time. I had stayed calm, I had tried to make sense of it all. But now? Now, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I don’t want to sit here and just yell at you,” I snapped. “I want to talk to you. I want to figure this out, but you can’t even be bothered to grab a drink with me? You don’t have time to take me out or have a real conversation about what happened? You caused all this, and now you’re rushing me through it? And you get me McDonald’s? Seriously?”

That was it. I couldn’t keep it together anymore.

I stormed out of the car, throwing the McDonald’s across the road. I didn’t even care. My emotions were boiling over, and all I could do was run upstairs, grab my puppy, and cry into the emptiness of my room. Surprisingly, it was only a moment. After I yelled, the time to be mad was over, and it was time to act. I was going to wash off this night and realign with myself. Clearly, this isn’t worth it from his point of view, so I shouldn’t give any more energy to it. My only regret? Not throwing that damn McDonald’s in his face.