I’m the girl who was with her high school boyfriend for eight years because she was too lazy to break up with him for the last three. I’m also the girl who broke up with the guy on Valentine’s Day. What a bitch, right?
Long story short, I am a teacher and he has been delivering pizzas for the past eight years. I am very happy with my life, and he drowns himself in beer, my wine, and whatever hard liquor he can find in the house, pretty much every night. He is lost, and I couldn’t afford to follow him around aimlessly for another eight years. I was no longer able to pretend to be someone I wasn’t.
And for the record, I’m not actually a bitch. Unless you ask The Ex or my students; then I’m Super Bitch. *Insert super hero music here*
The Gory Details
The catalyst for the breakup came the weekend before Valentine’s Day. I had plans to go out with the girls on Saturday night while The Ex was working. I had a bottle of rum left over from New Year’s Eve hidden in the closet (I had to hide my alcohol from him or else it would disappear while I slept), but I guess I hadn’t hidden it well enough because it had already been mostly consumed when I found the bottle. You couldn’t cover the bottom of a shot glass with what he had oh-so-considerately saved for me. The Ex, of course, didn’t see a problem with this minor detail.
After an explosive sprint of a fight I decided to ignore him for the rest of the night. In eight years, I had never ignored his calls or texts for longer than a couple of hours. I ended up closing the bar, and he slept on the couch. I think my night was much more enjoyable than his.
The next morning I went to a friend’s apartment before he woke up. I continued to ignore his calls, until I got hungry and decided to let him treat me to breakfast. Over breakfast I forgave him and we went on with our lives.
Enter St. Valentine…
By the time Valentine’s Day rolled around we had come to a silent agreement to forget about the fight. We had dinner at Chili’s (and it was delicious. I freakin’ love Chili’s). We had a perfectly enjoyable dinner and we were waiting for our dessert when it started: the beginning of the end.
The Ex brought up the events of Saturday night during our Valentine’s Day dinner. Who does that?
I won’t bore you with extensive dialogue, but after describing the complete fucked-up-ness of my behavior on Saturday night he told me to “take a good long hard look in the mirror” because I’m “not perfect either.” I agreed with him, I did need to reevaluate my life decisions. In the eight years we’ve been together, I’ve graduated from high school and college, found the job of my dreams, kick ass at it every day (I’m not a modest person. It is one of my faults.), I’ve been offered a second (awesome) job because of an education blog I write (not telling which one), and I was extremely happy with almost every aspect of my life. What the hell was I doing with this guy?
He stormed out of Chili’s after I paid for dinner with a gift card from work, and I broke up with him when we got home. The following day I packed up all of his crap because I’m nice like that, and he picked it up the next day. I am kind of surprised at how easy it was to end an eight year relationship.
I am also surprised at how much I love being single. First of all, living alone is amazing. If I clean the kitchen, it will still be clean when I get home!! What a concept! I can play my music as loud as I want to, leave my shoes in the living room when I’m too lazy to put them away, and I can hook up with inappropriate men at any time of day…but more about them later.
The clouds have parted, as have my legs, and I am having too much fun to not document it. When I’m an old lady I will know that I have lived. As for The Ex…he can drink shit. 
