"I didn't want it to have to come to this, but the point is your rather difficult Brooke. You know, high maintenance?" He looked at me as though I should totally identify with him and say he's right.
"High maintenance? Did I ever ask you to spend money on me? Did I ever blow you off for a manicure appointment? What makes you think I'm high maintenance?!"
"No, no, not like that. You're just too... frank sometimes. Possibly overconfident and somewhat cynical." He's finding every negative descriptor and he's starting to enjoy himself, "A little pompous at times, just too much. Too... different."
"Oh, different as in unwomanly? You want a girl who'll cook some pumpkin pie for you, do as you say, getting rid of my career just to make you look bigger and better. Is that what you mean? 'Cause it sure sounds like it."
"Brooke. Come on. You know I don't mean that."
"Yeah yeah. I believe you." I didn't.
"I'm not having this conversation with you if you're going to be like that. I just think we need some time off, go do our own things for a while okay?"
You have no idea how many break-ups I've had that ended like that. My ears have kind of gotten used to the word "high maintenance" and "difficult". Especially "difficult". It's amazing how all my friends have ended up married before me. Men like the prototype woman, the one who does make them pumpkin pie and sacrifice their careers. I don't blame my friends for following the "rules of love" so to speak.
After going through the above about a hundred times, you'd expect I'd be miserable and bawling my eyes out, pitying myself for all my misfortune. I just get over things quickly. Clean cut, done, finished, forget. Maybe I really don't have feelings, maybe I just don't "love" people. I remember this one guy, Sean, said I was heartless and had no "womanly qualities". Perhaps that's true.