I’ve been dating my childhood sweetheart Jake for three years when he blocked me again and gave his bas ketball game tickets to a freshman girl.
Just as I was about to bring him water and apologize, text messages suddenly appeared in front of me:
“Seriously bro? Your pride is showing again. You’re obsessively checking her messages but pretending not to
care.”
“Keep playing hard to get. When she actually leaves, there’s a line of guys waiting. Your ‘best friends‘ are rea dy to steal her away.”
“Girl, look at that basketball captain on the opposing team. If you brought water to him instead, your moody boyfriend would absolutely lose it.”
I hesitated, then curiously walked to the opposing team with water.
Next thing I knew, Jake’s team got completely destroyed.
Jake had blocked me again.
This time because I was three minutes late to our date. He was absolutely furious:
“I’m sorry, there was traffic. I kept asking the driver to go faster,” I apologized anxiously, head down.
But Jake wouldn’t believe me:
“Couldn’t you leave two hours early? Take another route? Use the subway?”
“Every street is moving fine except yours? Maybe look at yourself for the problem.”
“Emma, stop making excuses. You clearly don’t value our dates. Come or don’t, I don’t care. Just get out.”
He kicked me out of the restaurant, pointing at me in the doorway and telling me to leave immediately.
This was our three–year anniversary. I had made reservations at this restaurant two months in advance.
The traffic was terrible, and worried I’d miss it, I got out of the car halfway and frantically rented a bike to rush here.
I was in such a hurry that I fell, immediately scraping my leg which started bleeding.
But Jake wouldn’t listen to reasons like these.
He hates when people are late. Even though I’m his girlfriend, even though it was just three minutes, to him it
