True Story

Today a young-ish fellow sat beside me on the bus. Not overly good-looking. Not overly unattractive. The kind of guy who looks like a nice boyfriend. For some reason I started to wonder what it would be like - to have him for a boyfriend, I mean.

I imagined our circle of friends whom we would see a couple of times a week and the cheery meals we would share together. His parents love me, that's for sure. They never let on to him, but his mother confessed to me that she hoped her son would make good and never let me go. It was a difficult decision to move in together. We argued a lot, at first. But, he can never stay mad at me. He is such a pushover, really. Sunday mornings are my favourite. We lay in bed and he shamelessly compliments me from head to toe. The sex is okay. Not mind-blowing, but he gives really good massages and he thinks I'm the most beautiful woman alive.

He's really very sweet, but sometimes I find him a bit dull. My parents think he's perfect. He just landed a really good job and he has enough money saved up to buy a condo. He wants kids. I do too. He's great. Really great.

Sometimes I find it hard to pay attention when he's talking. I always know what he's going to say, so I can often zone in and out of the conversation without missing much. I feel bad about that, but I've never met the people he works with and it seems like that's all he talks about nowadays. I've noticed recently that his profile is weird. His brow slopes just a little bit and his jaw... he kind of has an underbite. It seems to be more pronounced lately. Weird. And his fingernails are really odd. Tiny. Round. Pointless, in a way. If they grow even a little bit past the tips of his fingers they start to split and tear. He can't even scratch himself.

I kind of wish he would give me a little more space. Even now, here we are on the bus and he's sitting so close. I can hardly breathe. The warmth of his thigh against mine is irritating me. Fuck, I wish I could just get off at this next stop and run like hell. Disappear. Never call him again. Run away.

Why does he have to keep shifting around and shuffling his feet like that? I am a bad person. He deserves better. Maybe I deserve better too. Oh my God, if he taps my foot ONE MORE TIME... Why does he keep looking out my window? It's Main Street. It's not like he hasn't seen it before. Oh, and here we go ... he's leaning toward me. And now he's reaching over. I am not in the mood for any public displays of affection or "PDAs" as he calls them (so annoying). And...

Yeah, he rang the bell and got off.

For the record, I wanted to break up with him first.

What?