and dragging you out of here,” he said, a dangerous glint coming into his eyes, causing her blood to rush through her body like a freight train.
“I care though. And your parents are in the other room. Phil, we need to talk about this more.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.” She held her hand up when he started to speak. “I need space to process everything. And everything that happened tonight.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“More than you think,” she said and walked back to the table alone.
***
Phil let himself in his front door, shut and locked it behind him, and dropped his keys on the coffee table. Sitting down heavily on the couch, he ran his hands over his face.
When will it ever end, he wondered. Would he ever get what he longed for? What he’d wanted for so long?
Five years of his life wasted.
No, that wasn’t true, four years. That first year with Linda was good. Or so he thought. He had been close to thirty and was longing to settle down. He never let on he was itching for it, not at all. Especially when so many women were angling for the same thing.
But he wanted what his parents had, and he wasn’t settling for anything less.
Linda had appeared perfect for him at first. They had so much in common. They liked the same things, and she gave him space to be with his family and time alone—saying she enjoyed time with her friends just as much. Everything was going so well. Then a light bulb switched off after they’d been together for a year.
She began pressuring him to move into his house, and suddenly he had doubts. Maybe she wasn’t the one. If she was, why wasn’t he agreeing? He didn’t know why, but something held him back. That nagging feeling in the back of his brain telling him, “Not yet, don’t settle, there’s more out there.”
So he held off. And just like that, Linda started to change. She started to cling, started to give him less and less space. Her moods changed. She changed. She had always been so accommodating and so happy, but suddenly, if she didn’t get her way, she would snap. Get nasty. Not only to him, but to others around them.
The first occasion she snapped at him for not giving in and taking her on a vacation she so desperately wanted, he was shocked. Thought for sure he was imaging it all, but no, she wouldn’t stop. Next thing he knew, she was telling him he wasn’t paying enough attention to her and then accused him of seeing someone else. It was so unlike the person he had been with for a year. He was furious at the time and walked out the door.
The next day she called him before his alarm even went off that morning. He ignored it, like he had the next ten calls she made that hour. He needed to think, to clear his mind, and he wasn’t ready to talk to her. Fearful he would say something he would later regret.
Finally, sometime after the third voicemail message she left crying and pleading, begging him to forgive her, saying she was stressed at work and she didn’t mean it and it would never happen again, he finally called her back.
He listened to what she had to say and gave her the benefit of the doubt. Then another chance, and things got better. For a short period. Until it started up again. The clinging and the accusations. Every time he backed away or stormed out, she’d call pleading with him.
He finally had enough and refused to fall back in the same trap again. He’d tried the gentle way with her. He’d tried to explain what was going on and what his issues were and the things that needed to change for him to stay. Each and every time she would change, for a short period, then lapse back.
So he broke it off with her in the middle of their second year. Only she told him she couldn’t live without him.
She threatened to harm herself and begged him again not to leave her. He couldn’t live with the guilt that he might have caused her to do something drastic like that.
Then she told him he wasn’t giving her a
“I care though. And your parents are in the other room. Phil, we need to talk about this more.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.” She held her hand up when he started to speak. “I need space to process everything. And everything that happened tonight.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“More than you think,” she said and walked back to the table alone.
***
Phil let himself in his front door, shut and locked it behind him, and dropped his keys on the coffee table. Sitting down heavily on the couch, he ran his hands over his face.
When will it ever end, he wondered. Would he ever get what he longed for? What he’d wanted for so long?
Five years of his life wasted.
No, that wasn’t true, four years. That first year with Linda was good. Or so he thought. He had been close to thirty and was longing to settle down. He never let on he was itching for it, not at all. Especially when so many women were angling for the same thing.
But he wanted what his parents had, and he wasn’t settling for anything less.
Linda had appeared perfect for him at first. They had so much in common. They liked the same things, and she gave him space to be with his family and time alone—saying she enjoyed time with her friends just as much. Everything was going so well. Then a light bulb switched off after they’d been together for a year.
She began pressuring him to move into his house, and suddenly he had doubts. Maybe she wasn’t the one. If she was, why wasn’t he agreeing? He didn’t know why, but something held him back. That nagging feeling in the back of his brain telling him, “Not yet, don’t settle, there’s more out there.”
So he held off. And just like that, Linda started to change. She started to cling, started to give him less and less space. Her moods changed. She changed. She had always been so accommodating and so happy, but suddenly, if she didn’t get her way, she would snap. Get nasty. Not only to him, but to others around them.
The first occasion she snapped at him for not giving in and taking her on a vacation she so desperately wanted, he was shocked. Thought for sure he was imaging it all, but no, she wouldn’t stop. Next thing he knew, she was telling him he wasn’t paying enough attention to her and then accused him of seeing someone else. It was so unlike the person he had been with for a year. He was furious at the time and walked out the door.
The next day she called him before his alarm even went off that morning. He ignored it, like he had the next ten calls she made that hour. He needed to think, to clear his mind, and he wasn’t ready to talk to her. Fearful he would say something he would later regret.
Finally, sometime after the third voicemail message she left crying and pleading, begging him to forgive her, saying she was stressed at work and she didn’t mean it and it would never happen again, he finally called her back.
He listened to what she had to say and gave her the benefit of the doubt. Then another chance, and things got better. For a short period. Until it started up again. The clinging and the accusations. Every time he backed away or stormed out, she’d call pleading with him.
He finally had enough and refused to fall back in the same trap again. He’d tried the gentle way with her. He’d tried to explain what was going on and what his issues were and the things that needed to change for him to stay. Each and every time she would change, for a short period, then lapse back.
So he broke it off with her in the middle of their second year. Only she told him she couldn’t live without him.
She threatened to harm herself and begged him again not to leave her. He couldn’t live with the guilt that he might have caused her to do something drastic like that.
Then she told him he wasn’t giving her a
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