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That weekend at the cottage was exactly what the doctor ordered. She went back to work that Monday with her masked face held high. She was happy to have a purpose again and to be back doing what she loved. She was thrilled to be off the couch and getting some exercise again, even if that just meant walking to and from the bus or being on her feet all day at work. She just felt so good about herself. True contentment in every aspect of herself and her life.

She was still on the dating apps, but with restrictions lifting even more, her built in pandemic excuse was starting to lose its validity (except not really, right? It’s still a pandemic!). She would match with all these guys, they’d get along, chat. Most wouldn’t even get too deep in to the sex talk anymore. But the second they asked her to meet up, she’d freeze and delete the conversation.

One guy she matched with, she thought she actually might be interested in. He wasn’t overly hot, but attractive enough. He was smart and funny and could carry a conversation. When he asked her to hang out, instead of deleting the conversation, she paused. She didn’t reply to him right away, but waited until the next day. When she did reply, she decided to be as honest as possible and basically told him that the next few weeks were pretty busy for her (which was true), but asked if he would be willing to chat a little while longer. He was respectful yet blunt in his reply saying, “I’m not looking for a pen pal. Good luck with everything.”

Logically, what more could she have asked for from someone other than complete and utter honesty? Still though, it annoyed her that he wasn’t willing to keep chatting. Her thought process was that there was nothing stopping him from chatting with other girls while he chatted with her. If he met someone, they would obviously stop chatting. But if not, then they could have met up when she was ready and able.

She texted a screenshot of the conversation to her friends who quickly burst her bubble and basically sided with him. They expressed that another month to wait to meet up was too long when, as mentioned before, guys are really only looking to fuck. It was then that she decided to pause all her dating apps and hide her profiles for a while.

It was true – why waste her time, and theirs, if she knew in the end she wasn’t willing to meet up with anyone yet? She felt good about her decision. Especially since she was so busy now, she was happy to keep herself open to more tangible events and activities. There was no room in her life for a guy at that moment, even just a casual FWB thing.

Now that the distraction from dating apps had somewhat dissipated, she could continue to focus on her true goal of overcoming her infertility. She remembered back to all the fertility treatments and appointments she had taken and gone to when she was living up north with her ex. It all seemed… unreal? Imaginary?

She felt like she just always knew, deep down inside her, that nothing would have ever come of it. Her heart and soul knew she was leaving him before her mind was ready to accept it. She also knew that now that she was on her own, living with her parents – no car, no money, no sperm – this was probably not the best time to jump back on the baby train. Instead, she now had to actually get her shit together. Her goal was to lose weight, freeze her eggs, and do everything in her power to get her life in order so that when she was ready to have kids, there would no longer be any obstacles in her way.

She called the fertility specialist that her family doctor had referred her to. She attended a Zoom consultation with the specialist a few weeks later, and was told that on day 1 of her next menstrual cycle, she was to call the clinic and they would begin blood work. However, day 1 never came. That consultation was in mid April. She had already had her period that month. Then May came. Then June. July. August… What was she supposed to do if she just never got her period??

This is an extremely common symptom of PCOS, and she was tired of her body postponing her life goals. So, she contacted the clinic and explained the situation. They prescribed her some pills with a long, clinical name – she just called them “period boosters”. She was to take one pill every morning with food, and within seven days of finishing them, she should have her period and they could begin the testing.

On day 6 of taking these pills, the gut wrenching, tear-you-apart-from-the-inside, all too familiar period cramps had returned. She hadn’t had her period in 4 months. No cramps, no mood swings, no blood. She had sincerely forgotten all the bullshit that comes with being a full-blown menstruation machine. She kept taking the pills but on day 9, Aunt Flo had returned in full force from an extremely overextended vacation, and it was not a welcomed visit.

Not only were her insides being figuratively torn to shreds by her own body, her hormones were also completely off the charts. Her poor parents. Her mother, (who is the most caring, nurturing, loving woman on earth) got the brunt of it. She would snap at her mom, roll her eyes, give her the dirtiest looks. And would catch herself thinking, “ugh! Mom! You’re so annoying! Just leave me alone!!” like the petulant teenager she had apparently regressed in to.

Her father, who learned back when she was 12 years old to leave her the hell alone when she was on her period, was re-learning that she was not to be fucked with. She was very aware of her mood swings, and would apologize for her behaviour as often as she could (when she wasn’t busy being a dirty, rotten bitch), and thankfully her parents understood that it wasn’t really her fault and that it would only last a few more days. It’s worth reiterating, in her defense, that this was four months in the making.

It’s also worth mentioning that she had plans to go camping the weekend that she got her period. She did not do the mental math before starting those pills. Had she just waited a few days to start them, she wouldn’t have been out in nature, having to go to the bathroom. Finding herself having to shit on a rock while simultaneously pulling out an overflowing Diva Cup from her vagina and dumping it out in the leaves, creating a full on murder scene in the in the middle of the woods. She worried about critters catching her scent and kept picturing the guys being like, “HOLY FUCK – A BEAR!” and her being like “HE’S HERE FOR ME! HE’S ATTRACTED TO MY LADY FRAGRANCE!!” or some shit.

Anyways…

The Friday that she was leaving for camping was the day she began her blood tests. She stopped at the fertility clinic on her way out of town and had several vials of blood drawn. She left feeling excited, ecstatic, optimistic, and a little dizzy. Good thing she grabbed a sub before hitting the road. Now, all she could do was wait for the results and just keep on keepin’ on, on her quest to lose weight.

The weight loss app she started on was really the best thing she could have ever done. That, and her continued goal of going plant based (as much as possible) were a driving force on her weight loss journey. She was already actively seeking out more veggies, fruits, and meat-alternative meals. The weight just kept falling off of her. She remembered after having only lost a few pounds, her friend told her, “You look amazing. You were literally wearing your depression and your circumstances. You can see it in your face that you’re happy”. Now that’s definitely paraphrased but you get the gist.

It really sunk in to her, then, that it’s true – she was so fucking happy now that she wasn’t in that situation anymore. So there was nothing stopping her from committing to this new, life changing goal. By the time that camping weekend was upon her, just over 3 months after committing to her weight loss, she was down 26lbs. She was a whole new person, in literally every way. And she couldn’t’ have been happier.

Continue to Chapter Twenty Six

Before she knew it, it was already mid June. The pandemic was still running rampant, but some restrictions had been lifted in Phase 2 and businesses were re-opening, including her own place of employment. So, when her friend asked if she’d like to join her and her husband and some of their friends at her cottage, she jumped at the chance. A weekend of sunshine, swimming, music, drinks, and laughter were exactly what she needed before going back to work that Monday.

She packed her bag with all the essentials, but when it came time to choose a bathing suit, she paused. The one she wanted to wear was purchased by her ex boyfriend before she left him. It was a high-waisted bikini with a ruffled top. Super cute. When she tried it on for her ex, she realized it was a smidge too small. She was overflowing out of it in some places and she felt really exposed and uncomfortable, so she never wore it. But looking at it then, while she was packing, she decided to try it on.

Low and behold, it actually fit! She had only lost about 9lbs at that point, but it seemed to be just enough to make her feel comfortable and cute and even feel sexy in it. Not that there would be anyone there to impress – it wasn’t about that. She was truly wearing this bathing suit because she liked it and she felt confident in it. For the first time in a long time, it was about her own opinion of herself, and not what anyone else thought of it. But actually, all the girls at the cottage loved it and complimented her on it, so really, like a true female, she wore it to impress the other women. And she did, so it all worked out!

She went into that weekend with her head held high, feeling good about herself and excited to spend time with her friends in a relaxing, care free environment. They partied hard the first night – danced by the fire, stared up at the stars from knee deep in the lake and drank like fish.

The Saturday was rough. She was super hungover and spent a lot of the day laying on the beach or wading in the water, trying to recover from her fun night. But also, just thinking. Thinking about how she ended up where she was, in that moment. Everything that had happened to her in her life that lead her to that space in time, floating in the water, the sun shining on her, happy as she ever had been. She felt like herself, but different. Grown. Experienced. Humbled and thankful.

That night she couldn’t go as hard with the drinking as she had the night before, but luckily, a cottage angel had brought Magic Mushrooms. It would only be her second time trying them, so she was happy to be doing it in nature, with her friends, in the most positive head space she could have hoped for. The sun went down, the fire blazed, and the few in the group that chose to do it, chewed up those nasty fuckers and awaited the effects to kick in.

She and her friend (who did not partake in the ‘shroomage), have extremely different tastes in music. Her friend likes music more in the dance realm – EDM and the like. She, however, preferred songs with melody and lyrics. They bickered over this constantly, like an old married couple. So, for this occasion they agreed to go 3 and 3 – three songs for one of them, three songs for the other. Of course, she didn’t realize some of her friend’s songs were upwards of like 7 minutes long, but whatever…  

The mushrooms had kicked in. She was sitting alone in the grass, away from the heat of the fire. Watching her friends dance, looking up at the stars, feeling the prickly, poking of the weeds under her. Then all of a sudden, she felt it in her chest. The heavy beat of the music. Bump. Bump. Bump. Pounding her heart harder and harder. Her breath quickened with the tempo as it accelerated faster and faster. She couldn’t breathe. The song had penetrated her soul and she was having a panic attack.

It was at the point when she broke out into full-blown hysterical tears that her friend noticed and came rushing over. “I’m sorry! It’s the song. It’s too much. It’s too much!” she exclaimed. Her friend listened and realized that it really wasn’t a great song for someone in her condition, and rushed to change it to a less all-encompassing tune. She shouted to her friend that she was sorry and that she wasn’t trying to play the victim in an effort to get her way with the music. She was overcome with so much guilt for making the moment about her. It was then that one of the other girls came over and wrapped her arms tightly around her. “I saw you crying,” she said. “I know you’re going through a lot. You’ve already gone through so much. I’m here for you. Let it out. Go ahead and cry.”

This comforting new friend didn’t know the reason she had been brought to tears. And though she had momentarily stopped the hysterics, when given the chance to let out all her feelings, especially in the euphoric state of being on Mushrooms, she embraced the opportunity and just started sobbing. Like full on ugly cry – gasping for breath, loud animalistic wails as she cried out every ounce of liquid she had in her body. It was cathartic. Any residual pain, sadness, heartbreak, turmoil, insecurity, doubt, shame – anything negative that she was holding on to was released in that moment.

She thought about her ex, and their entire relationship flashed before her eyes. All the shit he put her through, all the guilt and manipulation. The rift he tore through her entire life. Her triumphant return after leaving him. She thought about her dog, who she missed with her whole heart, but all of a sudden realized that if she had her dog, she wouldn’t be able to do all the things she was doing in her life. She would be held back, in a sense. And as much as she would have taken that dog back in a millisecond if given the opportunity, in that moment she had the epiphany that maybe things were how they should be. And if she were meant to have her, she would, when the time was right.

These thoughts flashed in her head as short bursts. Quick images. But she felt it. She felt these amazing thoughts and feelings as much as she had ever been able to feel anything, ever. It was so real and so moving. She remembers some of the guys, all drunk and stoned, looking at her as if to think, “what the fuck happened there?” And she remembers laughing because she knew how absolutely insane she must have looked. But she didn’t care. She was thankful to have had that experience. And when she was all out of tears, she wiped her nose and laughed with her new friend. They got up and followed the rest of the group down to the water to look at the stars again. She was breathing deeper breaths; she was smiling without even knowing it. She really needed that.

Continue to Chapter Twenty Five

After chatting with so many guys throughout the first few months of quarantine, it became clear to her that as much as she really did want to hook up with someone, casual sex was a bigger deal to her than she realized. Unless she was drunk, she wasn’t sure she had it in her to just meet up with a guy and let him penetrate her as if it were no big deal. She decided that she would still work towards casual sexual experiences, but hoped to find one guy to put on repeat – a reliable Friend With Benefits, you could say – making it a little bit more her speed rather than potentially hooking up with a bunch of rando’s. But, like the mythical Unicorn, she wasn’t sure if that really existed.

A few days went by after having this revelation. She needed a lighthearted distraction so she randomly put on a new Jerry Seinfeld comedy special on Netflix. She had been feeling a lot of emotions recently. Not only because of the pandemic and the fear she had about contracting the virus – she was also dealing with the death of her grandmother.

Her grandmother, who was just two weeks shy of her 91st birthday, had passed away from Covid earlier that week. Her grandmother had been in a nursing home due to her Dimentia/Alzheimer’s, and had contracted the virus there. She knew her grandmother wouldn’t have lived for that much longer, but had the nursing homes been properly equipped to handle this health crisis, maybe her grandmother would have still been there. She was a real emotional wreck over it.

As she mindlessly watched Jerry Seinfeld work his new material, she listened to him crack jokes about how, generally, everyone’s life sucks. He was saying, “Your life sucks, my life sucks – well… maybe not as much as yours…” (Big laugh for that one). And even then, while on day whatever-it-was of quarantine, barely 48 hours after her grandmother had just died from this devastating disease, she lay on her bed, a single, overweight, lost and naïve “little girl” – she still thought to herself how wonderful her life really was.

She thought about it and knew that she was blessed with true friendship from all these amazing women in her life. She also had the unyielding, life supporting love of her family – the clan of crazies she was so fortunate to be born in to. All the money in the world couldn’t buy that kind of happiness and just, a feeling of wholeness, really. To be complete. Despite all the things she lacked and yearned for in her life, she knew her life didn’t suck. This is exactly the life she always wanted and, in that moment, she was just so aware of, and grateful for what she had. She decided, then and there, that she wasn’t going to let life pass her by any more. She wasn’t going to be a voyeur into her own experiences – she was going to make things happen for herself.

Throughout her entire relationship, her ex was always bouncing back and forth between, “you’re so hot,” “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” “I’m so lucky to be with you,” to “you’re a fat, useless, ugly slob,” “You just sit on the couch all day getting fatter and fatter,” “You’re lucky to be with me, no one else would ever want that.”

Her way of coping with that mental and verbal abuse was to eat anything and everything in sight. She would shame eat by running over to the corner store while her boyfriend would be at work. She’d buy a few chocolate bars and a box of Pizza Pockets, eat all 3 in one sitting, and then run the box over to the garbage at the nearby park to get rid of any evidence. And that is just one example – there were many.

However, since being home and not having the constant weight (excuse the pun) of his abuse pushing her down, she finally felt like she was at a point in her life where she could actually commit to a lifestyle change. And not even for vanity reasons. She knew that one of the main contributing factors to PCOS was being overweight. If she were going to conquer this infertility garbage, she would have to put in the work.

She had seen a commercial for a new weight loss app. This program focused on the psychology of why people over eat. What are their triggers? Are they emotional eaters? Stress eaters? What is the motivation for losing weight? – things she had never really addressed to herself.

Turns out she was an emotional eater who snacked when she was bored. Not really rocket science, she definitely knew all that already. But when she was asked, “what is your motivation to start this weight loss journey?” and she wrote about her PCOS, it was the first time that she really put all her thoughts, feelings and concerns into words. The first time she really felt herself taking charge of this gigantic part of her life and her future.

During the last leg of her relationship, her ex had made the choice to go Vegan. As he was the cook in the relationship, she was basically forced into it. This was part of the reason why she would eat Pizza Pockets in secret – out of spite. However, after 2 years of plant-based eating with him, she discovered how much better she felt when she wasn’t filling her body with beef, pork, and dairy. She had never fully given up chicken or cheese, but had stopped drinking milk and had found several dairy alternatives. She became what she fondly refers to as, a Flexitarian.

So, when she began this weight loss journey, she was already on the right track. She wasn’t craving pepperoni pizza, or bacon, or sausages, or any of the salty and delicious dead animals she used to love. Along with other lifestyle changes, like not eating bagels with cream cheese every god damn morning, the weight just started melting off of her. She couldn’t believe how much better she felt. Not just because she was starting to look better, but mentally and emotionally, she didn’t realize the toll her depression weight gain had taken on her throughout her relationship.

What was also helpful for her was that she had started seeing a therapist as well. Back in February, she had had one in-person session with a counselor that her doctor had referred her to. Their second session would have been March 18th, but the province had closed for Covid by then. She had continued her sessions via Zoom, starting in April. It was helpful to unload all her trauma and neuroses on someone who was actually qualified to listen, instead of just dumping all her bullshit on her friends all the time. She felt good that she was not only working on her physical well being, but her mental and emotional health as well. This was the beginning of a whole new life for her, and she finally felt that she was actually up for the challenge.

Continue to Chapter Twenty Four

She matched with all sorts of guys on her various dating apps. And that was the first thing she noticed – matching doesn’t mean shit. Matching with someone is just a way of saying “we both think the other is hot, but not enough to actually talk to”. And even when she would make the first move and would send over a friendly “heyy” with a waving emoji (clearly expert level flirting on her part), she often received no reply. When she did receive a reply, or on the somewhat rare occasion that a guy messaged her first, the conversations often went as follows:

Him: “Hey cutie, how are you enjoying this beautiful quarantine afternoon?”

Her: “Heyy! I’m doing great. Just enjoying the sunshine. How’s your day going?”

Him: “Not bad. Would be a lot better with you here to cuddle with” (So smooth, right? Surprising she didn’t orgasm right there…)

Her: “I’m sure it would be. Too bad we’re on lockdown”

Him: “Yeah but if you’re not sick and I’m not sick, what’s the problem? I live alone and all I do is go to work, go to the grocery store and hang out with friends. Oh I also rarely wash my hands and refuse to wear a mask”

Her: “Oh is that all? Ok, I’ll be right over!”

Obviously, that was sarcastic, and a large generalization of the many conversations she had, but you get the point. Guys really weren’t concerned with contracting or even dying from the infectious virus, as long as they could get their dicks wet. Most conversations didn’t last longer than the initial pleasantries, but then there were the solid few that were at least able to bring her some entertainment in her boring quarantine world.

First there was the ginger guy (we all know how much she loves her a ginger) who looked cute enough in all his pics where he was wearing a hat, but looked like a tiny, little old gremlin without one. Even so, she flirted with him and they exchanged sexy pics. He even seemed to understand why she kept refusing to go over and hook up. However, this gremlin man was quick to point out her apparent hypocrisy when she told him that her family was allowing her brother to come visit them, but she still wouldn’t go over to his place to have sex.

A little backstory on that would be that her brother has some anxiety and other mental health issues and already basically lived in “self isolation” before quarantine happened. He had no vehicle and he never went anywhere. Having him over was not a risk. Going to a stranger’s house to exchange bodily fluids definitely was. And though she knew she owed this jerk no explanation, she actually enjoyed giving him shit and telling him off. It felt nice to stand up for herself.

Shortly thereafter, a friend had recommended Facebook Dating, which allows its users to see who has Liked them, without having to pay for that extra service. This was a game changer. In her attempts to set up her profile, she had had some difficulties uploading pictures. She tried for a little while and then closed it and gave up. When she went back a few hours later, not only had she accidentally uploaded the same picture 11 times (insert face palm and eye roll emojis), she also had something like 14 Likes already.

She clicked on the notification, curious to see what kinds of weirdos liked her this time, but was then instantly taken aback. She burst out laughing out of sheer surprise and immediately took a screen shot. The first guy that appeared in her Likes, was her best friend’s high school boyfriend. She thought it was hilarious. Not only because of who was staring back at her from her phone screen, but because she sincerely thought he had no idea who she was.

Even though they had hung around the same people for much of their young lives, she had always felt like he had never paid any attention to her. And not in a flirtatious way or anything, just even in a friendly, you’re-friends-with-my-girlfriend-so-I-should-at-least-acknowledge-your-existence type way. Looking back, she felt she might have even been a little intimidated by him back in high school? (So many revelations from writing this thing) She sent the screen shot to her friends and they all had a good chuckle. One of them asked is she was going to match with him, which she didn’t. But it made for a good story, at least. Along with seeing that guy on there, she also stumbled across – drum roll please…

Nice Car Guy.

Her heart sank and her stomach tied in knots. Even then, years and years later, he still had an inexplicable effect on her. He hadn’t Liked her on FB Dating, she just saw him as she went through it. She lingered on his profile for a long time. Longer than she would have liked to admit. Okay, truthfully, she left his page open for a few days. She kept going back to look at it, leaning back and forth as to whether or not she wanted to Heart him, or X him. Part of her wanted so badly to try to reconnect with him. “How exciting that would be”, she thought. Thankfully, saner heads prevailed, and she chose to X him out. She had already made that mistake and had no intention of making it again. That’s what you call growth.

She chatted with a few other guys here and there, but it wasn’t until she matched with a tall, blonde, gym-rat type guy that her entertainment leveled up. We’ll call this guy SF for short.

She messaged him and he replied quickly, telling her immediately how hot she was and how happy he was that they matched. Then it got weird. She asked him what he was up to and he felt no hesitation or reservations about blurting out, “Just having some drinks in the hot tub with my sister. She’s evil. She forgot her bathing suit so she’s in here teasing me with her thong…”

No need to re-read that. You read it right. He was just taking a casual dip in the hot tub with his scantily clad sister, as ya do. Hence the nickname SF – short for Sister Fucker.

She wasn’t sure how to reply to that. She was definitely not the least bit interested in him after that, but how often does one encounter such an odd and laughable situation? So, she kept it light and chose to ignore the creepy factor for the time being. He ended up explaining that it was his stepsister which, let’s face it, we’re all a little relieved to hear.

His sister had recently ended a bad relationship and had moved in with her brother until she could get her own place. She had hoped to move out in early May, but her plans had changed because of quarantine. “Okay…” she thought. “Maybe they’re just drunk and it’s not as creepy and gross as it seems…” Typical of her, always giving people the benefit of the doubt, even when literally every sign is screaming out, THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING WEIRDOS!

Then, before she knew it, his sister had commandeered his phone and she was now texting with her instead of him. She tried to have a normal conversation, but the sister kept going back to things like “What do you want me to do to tease him for you?” She got so annoyed that she finally blurted out, “Why aren’t you on dating apps too if you’re so horned up? You need to release some of that sexual tension in a more socially acceptable way! Go get yourself off and leave the creepiness in the hot tub!”The sister liked that idea and handed the phone back to her brother.

“You women are evil” he said when he got his phone back. “Why?” she asked. “My sister told me I’d have my hands full with you and that you said you want to come over and ride me in the hot tub…” She nearly threw her phone she was so surprised. Who the hell were these pervy sicko people she was talking to?! If nothing else, this was the most entertaining 45 minutes in quarantine yet. She assured him that she hadn’t said anything like that and told him to re-read their conversation. At this point the conversation was solely about him and his sister having sex.

“We haven’t had sex,” he kept repeating. “Well have you done other stuff!?” she asked, incredulously. “Maybe…” he replied. WHO ADMITS TO HOOKING UP WITH THEIR SISTER?! Let alone, who BRAGS about it??

“You’re going to fuck her” she said plainly. “This has only been going on since quarantine,” he tried to re-assure her. “Things will go back to normal afterwards. Like I said, we haven’t even fucked…” To which she replied, “Yeah, and quarantine’s not over.” She ended the conversation there and deleted the thread. That was enough real-life Jerry Springer for her for one day.

A few days later, though, she discovered that he had re-Liked her. Without hesitating, she X’d him out and kept scrolling. There was no way she was going to engage in another incestual conversation with him. Or so she thought.

About a week after that, he re-re-Liked her. And she had to give it to him, he was persistent. She decided to re-match with him and see what he had to say. It started off friendly enough, but the conversation inevitably ended up back on his sister. She discovered that he and his sister had in fact had sex after they had stopped chatting that first night.

Vom.

“Why are you trying to keep talking to me, then?” she asked. “You seem to have everything you need right there!” To which he replied, “I need someone that’s not my sister!”

There was no way she was meeting up with anyone in quarantine, let alone a Sister Fucker. She wished him the best with his sister-wife and ended the conversation. There was only so much weirdness she could handle. After that, she decided to take a bit of a break from the constant swiping.

Dating apps had become a habit she didn’t want to have. She left her profiles up but turned off the notifications. The constant swiping left and right – it became another activity to do mindlessly on her phone instead of enjoying the unprecedented free time that quarantine had given her.

She decided to be more productive with her time and began working out again. She started eating healthier again and she stopped buying Peanut Butter M&M’s every time her stoner munchies kicked in. She had successfully achieved level 100 of Quarantine Distraction, and now it was time to put in the hard work.

It was time to work on herself. Mind. Body. Soul.

Continue to Chapter Twenty Three

The Friday night before their date, she texted him asking what the plan was – what time they were going to meet up and where? After hours of no reply, she ended up falling asleep. She woke up to a vague text message explaining that he had had friends over and that he would message her Saturday. That was the first red flag she ignored – he had friends over the night before their date. Inside. Without masks or social distancing. And this was in April, peak fear season for Covid. Still, that didn’t deter her.

As the morning hours ticked away, she grew increasingly less patient. She texted him again asking what the plan was, and again, waited hours for a reply. She had had to lie to her parents about why she wanted to borrow their car. She had said she would be going to her friend’s place for a socially distanced backyard hang. As the afternoon began to pass by, she couldn’t keep lying to her mom about why she hadn’t left yet. At that point he had finally replied and agreed to have her over to just hang out in his driveway instead. She replied asking for his address. Then she got dressed and went out as if she were going to her friend’s place, in the hopes that he would reply quickly and she could just head over to his place as she was driving.

As she passed a park-and-ride bus station on her way across the city, she had still yet to hear from him. Considering she didn’t know where she was going, she pulled into the parking lot and decided to wait it out. She played her music and rolled her windows down, trying to enjoy the warm spring air. As time went by, she grew angrier and angrier. As if she put herself in this situation again. How could she be so stupid? Why the hell was she wasting this beautiful day waiting for a guy? A guy that she didn’t even know, who she owed absolutely nothing to, and who clearly wasn’t worth her time if he would make her wait around all day like this.

She had had enough. She started the car and decided she was going to make the best of her situation. She texted him and used the same lie she had told her mom, telling him that clearly he was too busy today and she would be going over to her friend’s place instead. She was already out of the house, she had the car and a full tank of gas, why not take a little road trip? She decided she would drive out towards that little town she had moved to with her ex all those years ago. At the very least, she could sit by the water down at the marina and reminisce about the good times she had there. It was something to do so she wouldn’t waste any more of that gorgeous afternoon.

And then, just as she was reaching the city limits, he texted her. He apologized for keeping her waiting and explained that his friend had stopped by unexpectedly to show him his new car. He said that he felt like an idiot because he was just about to send her his address. She pulled into a nearby drugstore parking lot and Google Mapped how far away she was from him. She was literally 7 minutes from his house. And, of course, now her curiosity and desire for attention had gotten the best of her. She agreed to still meet up with him. The catch now was that he knew she lived about 30 minutes away from him. She couldn’t just show up 10 minutes later. So now she had to wait again until it would be the appropriate time for her to arrive. Seriously. This is the kind of dumb shit that seems to only ever happen to her. “This guy better be worth it!” she thought to herself. (Spoiler Alert: He wasn’t.)

She texted him when she arrived and waited for him outside next to his truck. He came out and she immediately felt butterflies in her stomach. As he walked up to her, she evaluated him head to toe. He was super cute and walked like a hockey player – butt out, legs wide. And damn, his hands were so sexy. She wasn’t sure where that thought came from. It’s not like she had a fetish for hands or anything? But damn, nice hands bro!

And then, he smiled. His cute face was ruined by the yellow, chicklet teeth that filled his mouth, made worse by an extremely noticeable broken tooth. Even so, we’ll call him Sexy Hands Guy, instead of Bad Teeth Guy.

Despite the bad teeth, this was her first real date with someone other than her ex. She was going to enjoy it as best she could. They began with the small talk again, and not once were there any awkward silences. She realized, however, that she disagreed with almost everything he had to say. Especially when he called himself a “virus sympathizer”, meaning he wasn’t concerned and thought her taking precautions was stupid and unnecessary. She had a beer with him, met his room mates (all from a safe distance), and was so happy she had set firm boundaries before she had gotten there. She also thought to herself how relieved she was that she wasn’t trying to really date this guy and that all these weird, trashy people would never become a permanent part of her life. Phew!

And yet, despite her disappointment with his teeth, there was just something about this guy that made her want to ignore her instincts and jump him right there on his front stoop. Maybe it was the hands? Whatever it was, and despite his efforts to convince her otherwise, she left after two hours feeling strong and proud of herself for resisting her urges. She realized that part of meeting up with him was to prove to herself that she could make good decisions. The last time she was single, her moral compass hadn’t always pointed due north. The draw of a guy paying her any kind of attention was often too much for her to resist, hence all the bad choices she used to make. But this time, regardless of how much she wanted to concede to his persuasive antics, she stayed strong and stood her ground. She drove home hornier than ever. 

Later that night, he texted her and they both described how difficult it had been for them to have met up and not had sex. While she remained proud, she could tell he was annoyed that she hadn’t succumbed to his charms. He argued that if she was willing to meet up, and willing to pee in his bathroom (which she regretted doing, but she really had to go!), then she shouldn’t have any qualms about hooking up with him. She explained that meeting up, and even peeing in his bathroom, are very different than swapping bodily fluids with a stranger.

It would be two days before they chatted again, and the conversation was less than exhilarating, to say the least. The younger, more naïve and innocent version of herself would have been devastated by this lost connection. Her head would have been spinning with insecure thoughts about him not liking her, her not being enough, etc. But this time, she honestly couldn’t have cared less. Regardless of his feelings for her, the societal climate they were in (i.e.: the fucking PANDEMIC) wouldn’t allow for hook ups anyways. So, she felt no guilt or instinct to try to impress him further. Also, she realized that guys are a dime a dozen. Especially if all she was looking to do was hook up. Finding a guy to settle down with, that would be a different story. But this just confirmed to her that she was in no way ready deal with all the bullshit that comes with relationships and that she had no interest in inviting another man into her life.

And so, her quest to find another guy to flirt with had commenced.

Continue to Chapter Twenty Two

Before quarantine started, one of the most exciting things about being back home and being single were the new opportunities for getting out and meeting guys. Regardless of how things ended up with Mr. Divorcé, she had still been looking forward to getting back into the dating scene. Despite years of being told by her ex boyfriend that she was too fat, that he was her last chance at love and a family, that no one but him would ever want to have sex with her, and even despite her own insecurities that had been there before she met him – she seemed to have a new lease on her potential dating life.

She felt confident for the first time in years. Not because she had lost any weight and not because she all of a sudden thought she was this beautiful, hot piece of ass. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that this newfound sense of confidence was from her actually following through on her desperate desire to break up with her ex. The fact that she was able to muster up the courage and leave the life she had known for nearly ten years to start over in her early thirties, was enough to give her the boost she needed to put herself out there and start dating again. Having only ended her relationship 2 months prior, she definitely wasn’t interested in anything serious. What she really wanted, in fact, was just to get laid!

For the majority of her relationship, sex was always about her ex’s pleasure. He would say that he would get turned on if she were turned on, but really, all he wanted her to do was talk dirty and say the gross or perverted things she knew he wanted to hear. He wanted her to be like the porn stars he saw on PornHub, or who he followed on Instagram or Tumblr (before it became less X rated). She used to try to be what he wanted, but the longer they were together, the more she came to realize that she would never be able to do exactly what he wanted her to. He also constantly pressured her for threesomes or for him to be with other women, but not her with other men (as was made clear by the swinging hook up debacle from that Beer Fest). So she wasn’t used to getting real pleasure from sex. He would even get mad at her if she tried to finish herself off after he had failed to do so. It hadn’t been about her in so long that the thought, alone, of casual sex for her own enjoyment was almost enough to get her off.

She really wanted to just hook up with a random guy and feel sexy and confident and powerful. For the first time in years, maybe ever, she would be in charge of her own sexuality. She also knew now that, despite what her ex had told her for all those years, there were plenty of guys out there looking for a curvy girl. She ended up downloading Tinder, Bumble and Hinge (The Holy Trinity, amen) to see what the dating scene was like after being out of the game for so long.

Dating in general is pretty tough. Women and girls put up with a lot throughout their quests for love and affection. Online dating is often just a series of conversations where both parties make small talk until they decide to meet up. Most first dates often result in disappointing conversation and no spark, or sometimes casual sex which can also end up being equally as disappointing as the conversation. The point is, there is usually a small window of time before either party gets bored if neither one suggests a real date. Dating in quarantine was a little different.

In her brief online dating experience throughout the first few weeks of lockdown, she encountered a number of odd characters, all on the hunt for the same thing: a girl who would break quarantine and hook up with them, despite the risks. She thought she lucked out because the first guy she really talked to seemed to totally understand her reservations for not wanting to meet up until restrictions were lifted. He was charming and funny and was very forthcoming as to how hot he thought she was. That was nice to hear. They talked about their interests, their families, their past relationships and dating history. And then, as it usually does, the conversation turned sexual. It is at that point that many ladies will either end the conversation, or in her case, continue on because she was equally as horny and enjoyed the attention. All those years of reluctant dirty talk with her ex were about to come in handy. They discussed things they were in to, things they weren’t into. They shared some photos and she felt… naughty? That’s probably the best way to put it. It was sexy and scandalous and new and fun. If this is what quarantine dating was like, she was all for it!

The main thing that he was interested in, he told her, was his fetish for high heels. He loved a good ol’ stripper shoe on his lady while he gives her the goods. He even sent her a picture of the lime green platform stilettos he had bought his ex, which he assured her she had never worn (ya, sure…) . He asked if she would send him some photos of her wearing high heels. Of all the weird things she could have been asked to do, sending him pics of her legs in high heels was among some of the tamer requests. She rummaged through her packed boxes in the basement and found a pair of pink BCBG high heels, as well as some chunky wooden heeled ALDO platforms with a sexy faux leather cross strap over the top. She sent him a few photos of her legs in the heels which he went absolutely ape shit for. “Wow, your calves are so sexy and muscular!” he said. “I’ll take that compliment!” she thought to herself.

He continued to ask about meeting up, and she continued to explain why she just couldn’t, despite desperately wanting to. It was then that he suggested they meet up and go for a social distancing walk. She was so surprised. “Did he seriously just ask to go on a date?” she asked herself. He seemed confused at her shock to the question. She said she would love to meet up but confirmed that it would have to be just for a walk. There would be no funny business because she was a law-abiding citizen living with her higher risk parents, and this pandemic was no joke! He agreed to her terms and they set a date for that coming Saturday.

Continue to Chapter Twenty One

A few weeks went by, and it was now early March 2020. The news in recent weeks had been rampant with the terrors of Covid-19, caused by the novel Coronavirus, but nothing had been closed yet. The world was preparing for something for which no one could imagine the extent of how it would impact society and the planet. She really didn’t know what was going on, so she was somewhat hesitant to agree to go for drinks when Mr. Divorcé contacted her to meet up. However, there hadn’t been anything official put in place yet and nothing seemed concrete, so she decided to take him up on his offer to meet for a drink and a bite to eat.

They had to be stealthy. She didn’t want him to pick her up in front of her parent’s place knowing that they would recognize his vehicle. He told her he would pick her up in his car, not his truck, and that he would wait for her down the street. They went to a local pub and she realized fairly early on that this was just a friendly hang out and not something romantic. He was still right in the middle of his separation and, unlike her and her break up, he was definitely not over it yet.

So, she listened to him while he vented about his ex and all their marital problems. She chimed in here and there with her own relationship anecdotes, but she could tell he really needed to get some things off his chest, and she knew that he needed to do it with someone impartial. She sipped her beers and ate the nachos they were sharing, until the conversation came to a natural conclusion. However, neither one of them wanted the night to end, so they stopped back by her parent’s place and she sneakily ran up to her room to grab her weed. Teenager Mode – Activated!

They drove over to a local coffee shop and parked. She rolled them a joint and they smoked it right there in his car. They talked some more, and it was so comfortable and casual. There were definitely a few moments where she hoped he might kiss her, but he didn’t. In hindsight, though, she was glad nothing happened. He dropped her off and told her he would message her soon.

It wasn’t exactly the date she had envisioned, but it felt really good to be out with a man who wasn’t her ex, and who she could be completely herself with. She didn’t have to shrink herself down to be viewed as worthy or interesting. Plus it was just nice to talk about something other than endangered animals and the end of the world, which were big, depressing topics of conversation throughout her relationship.

In the weeks prior to this rendezvous, no one knew what would happen in regard to this looming pandemic. Would businesses close? Would people lose their jobs? Would we all be dead in a month?? The fear of the virus was rising, and she knew that it would only be a matter of time before her place of employment would be closed as well.

The Monday after her date, she went in to work. The buses were empty, the streets were a ghost town. Everyone spent the morning bleaching and sanitizing their areas, which they had also done the week prior. She was there for a total of one hour before she was sent home, as there was no more work to be done. And thus began her time in quarantine limbo.

She was one of the fortunate ones as she was able to get on to Employment Insurance very quickly, and she had job security for when things went back to “normal”. But now what? She had been back home for not even two months, and now she was off work again, not able to see her friends again, stuck at home doing nothing again. First World problems though, right? She was healthy, she was with her family, and most importantly – she was out of her toxic relationship. The thought of being stuck there with him in quarantine played over and over in her head. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have gotten out of there when she did. If she had to be in quarantine, there was no where else in the world she would have wanted to be.

She began her first few days in lockdown with a very positive attitude. She wasn’t going to waste this extra time. She was going to work out, she was going to sketch and paint more, she even went as far as to start a puzzle with her parents. But soon, her productive streak began to dwindle. The puzzle was moved from the dining room table, to a table in the garage, and then back into the box after really only finishing the sides and a bit of the middle part. She painted a few times, sketched here and there, but for the most part she was just stuck inside her own four walls with nothing to do and nothing to think about but her failed relationship and the trauma she had suffered. Things she didn’t want to think about were at the forefront of her mind and it took everything in her power not to break down and cry all day every day.

It was then that she began writing.

Growing up, writing had always been one of her creative outlets. She would write her own stories, write in her diary, and she and her cousin even wrote short stories together about a pair of best friends named Kirsten and Christina. They would have adventures around their school and would talk about boys, friends and even monsters in the staff room! (They were 10 and 11, don’t judge) She even took a writing course as an elective in high school. But as she got older, her passion for it faded away. She was just never inspired enough to write. She never had anything to say. Well, she definitely had something to say now.

One random day in quarantine, she opened up her dad’s busted ass early 2000’s laptop and just started writing. Anything and everything she thought, felt, questioned – she wrote it all down. It came out as gibberish, she felt, but with a bit of editing, she actually felt like she had written something worth reading. Not being able to see her friends or tell them about it in person, she sent her first draft to a few of them and asked for their opinions or notes. Unanimously, they all said how wonderful it was, how honest and raw, and a few of them suggested she start a blog.

That idea seemed so far fetched to her. Who the hell would read long winded ramblings about her failed love life? (Well, you would, apparently! Thanks for being here) But the more she thought about it, the more it empowered her to take this next chapter of her life into her own hands. Her fears about her ex finding out, or about it being a complete failure, just didn’t seem like good enough reasons not to try it. The problem was, she had absolutely no idea how to build a website, or what a blog even really was? Luckily, her cousin’s fiancée was a marketing major and a real whiz when it came to website construction. She reached out to her and hoped they would be able to work out a time for her to be taught everything she would need to know.

She had chatted with Mr. Divorcé a few more times after lockdown happened. The conversations were kind of boring and they really only talked about surface stuff. She tried to engage him in more interesting topics, but he kept coming back with short replies and giving nothing to the conversation. She discovered that he had re-instated his Facebook profile and tried twice to Friend him. Both times he just left her hanging. It was a few weeks before they chatted again, and she called him out on not adding her. His response was that he didn’t want his ex to see her on his friends list and to think something was going on. If she couldn’t take the hint before, she had now just been slapped in the face with it. She knew this was going no where, even just as a friendship, so she gave up any attempts to keep in touch. So much for that form of lockdown entertainment. That’s when the dating apps came in…

Stay tuned for Chapter Twenty. New chapters posted every Wednesday at 8pm, EST

She had had a taste of her potential dating life and, though it excited her to think about all the fun she was able to have now, literally the only thing on her mind was that she wanted to see her friends. However, (unlike her) they all had jobs and plans and lives. You can imagine her elation, then, when one of her friends invited her to a small girl’s night two weeks later.

The anticipation of this get together was almost too much to bare. The days leading up to it seemed to drag on. When her mother drove her over to her friend’s place that night, she couldn’t figure out why her mom had been so interested in coming in to say hi, but she had a sneaking suspicion that something was going on. Never in a million years would she have imagined anyone would actually do anything to surprise her, though. However, to her shock and delight, her friends really came through for her – truly above and beyond anything she could have imagined.

She walked in the entrance and was greeted by her friend who was hosting the get-together. She was so happy to see her, and was completely bewildered when she walked up the stairs to an array of balloons tied to the banister that read, “WELCOME BACK!”. As she continued in, she saw the dining table filled with flowers and cards, delicious chocolate treats, as well as appetizers galore. These ladies, thoughtful as they are, even made sure everything was vegan because they knew she was trying to reduce her meat and meat by-product intake, so they took great consideration when planning the food.

And then, like angels from BFF-heaven, there were her friends. All standing in the kitchen waiting to greet her. All smiles and hugs and lots of tears. The tears were more from her, though – let’s be real.

She was speechless. Aside from her amazing, surprise Sweet Sixteen party, no one had ever done something so thoughtful and extravagant for her. She couldn’t even begin to express her gratitude as her friends poured her a drink. It was then that they revealed there was a second surprise. They guided her up the next flight of stairs to unveil all of her friend’s mothers there as well! All of them in the midst of manicures and pedicures. Not only was this a Welcome Home party for her, but her friends had also arranged a Mother/Daughter spa night surprise! No wonder her mom wanted to “come in and say hi”.

Now the tears were just streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks. Unlike the countless tears she’d cried over the last several years, these were out of pure joy and love and gratitude. She knew in that moment that all her worries and insecurities about where her friendships had left off due to her toxic relationship, were no longer justified. Not that they ever were, clearly – but she just knew that there was no longer a reason to fear losing these people. They had never left her. They were always there, just waiting for her to realize her potential and her worth. And now that she had, it was time to celebrate!

They all gathered together in that living room area – some getting their nails done, others standing or sitting close by. All chatting and laughing and having fun. She reveled in the experience of being free to enjoy herself with the people she loved again. Not having to worry about going home to a fight after having seen her friends for whatever brief period of time she could fit in to the short visits she made home while she was with him. She didn’t have to lie about how many drinks she’d had, or why she was home later than she had expected to be. Her life was her own now and she was so thankful to have these women be such a big part of it once again.

If that Welcome Home party wasn’t enough to lift her spirits (which it totally was), the good news just kept on coming. About a week after moving home, she had sent out some resumés and had been looking for employment. Three days after that party, she was offered an amazing job. She would be working at the company’s downtown location, in a position she had always wanted to work in. Additionally, after years and years in her field, she would finally be making a wage suitable to her skills and qualifications. She was over the moon with excitement.

Why had she waited so long to end that difficult chapter of her life? Especially when true happiness was always within arms reach. Her family was happy to have her back, her friends threw a party in her honour to show how much they love and value her, and she was finally working somewhere that she didn’t dread going to every day. She truly could not think of another thing she wanted or needed because, in that moment, she felt like she had everything.

Then one evening a few weeks later, as she listened to a podcast on the train ride home from work, like the cherry on top of her life-sundae, she got an unexpected message from Mr. Divorcé. He was just as funny and charming and flirty over messenger as he had been in person the night they’d met at the Superbowl party. He assured her that he hadn’t forgotten about her but that he’d just been busy with the separation and juggling a new schedule for his kids. The fact that he thought to contact her at all, let alone to reassure her that he was still thinking about her, was more than enough to put him in her good books. He asked her about getting together for a drink when things settled down for him, to which she happily agreed. She tried not to get her hopes up in anticipation of his call. All the while, blown away at the complete one-eighty her life had taken in such a short time. It was late February 2020. A new year, a new life. Things were finally getting back on track for her and she was certain that nothing in the whole, entire world could bring her down…

Continue to Chapter Nineteen

And then, as if awake in a dream, she was just on her way. On her way back to the life she left and had longed for again for so many years. The drive back seemed to go on forever. But her dad just let her cry, or made her laugh, and assured her that everything was going to be okay even if it didn’t seem like it.

It was January 31st. For the first time in her life she had actually followed through on a New Year’s Resolution. She left the only life she had known for nearly a decade, and was moving back in with her parents. No job. No car. No real life plan yet – and she couldn’t have been more excited (among many other emotions).

She arrived home and was greeted by her loving mother, their rambunctious, happy-go-lucky dog, and she had never in her life been so happy to set foot in her parents house. She unpacked her things in what seemed like mere minutes and just immediately went to sleep. She spent the next day curled up in bed watching reruns of Friends and going back and forth between sleeping and crying.

She had moved back home on a Friday. That Sunday, which would have been her and her ex’s 7-year anniversary, was the Superbowl. Her parents were going over to her aunt and uncle’s place for their annual Superbowl Party. She knew she was more than welcome to join; she just wasn’t sure if she would be in the mood. Inevitably, though, when the time came to head over, she decided to tag along. At the very least, it would be a fun night with her extended family and she would be able to get her mind off of things, if only for a short time.

As she walked up the driveway, before she even entered the house, she could hear one of her cousin’s excitedly exclaim, “She’s here! She came!” and it warmed her heart. When she walked in, she was overwhelmed by family members who were more than a little excited to see her. She was immediately handed a drink and was brought over to the couch to dish on her recent breakup and future plans.

As she sat there chatting, she scanned the room to see who else she might know. She saw friends of her cousins’, she saw friends of her parents’, and then she saw someone she didn’t recognize. He looked to be just a bit taller than her, salt and pepper hair, short beard and a nice smile. He just looked so friendly, and handsome to boot – even with the dad bod.

As she continued her conversation, her cousin and her other cousin’s fiancée both noticed him as well. “We need to find you a rebound,” one of them said. “What about him?” the other one asked as she pointed to this mystery man. Turns out, he was a member of her father’s Fantasy Football league. He lived next door to a friend of her dad’s, and since joining the league had thus become friend’s with her father as well. Sounds creepy, “a friend of her father’s”, but he was only 37 and it’s not like he and her dad were BFF.

She sipped her beer and scoffed at her cousin’s outlandish suggestion. Meanwhile, she was already planning their first date in her head. She had an overwhelming urge to prove her ex wrong – she was still desirable, and her ex was not the only guy who would ever want to be with her.

The night wore on, and soon it was Half Time. Her uncle passed around some football trivia sheets. She knew she had zero football knowledge but the three beers in her system made her think she could make some highly educated guesses. She looked around for a seat with a surface to write on. It was then that her mother offered up her own seat at the kitchen island. She sat down next to her dad and began scribbling out her guesses. Her dad finished and got up to hand in his sheet, leaving his seat open for the mystery man to sit down. They began chatting about football and the party itself, eventually moving on to more personal conversation.

She found out that he had recently left a bad relationship, as well, and was getting divorced. He had two kids of his own from his first marriage, his ex had one. They talked for what seemed like hours before she realized that all eyes were on them. Her parents, her parents’ friends, her cousins – every one of them on the edges of their seats as they watched her chat up a guy that wasn’t her ex.

As the night wound down, she discovered that he didn’t have any social media, and that because his breakup was more recent (at least emotionally), he didn’t want to exchange numbers. Instead, they added each other on Facebook Messenger. He was about to leave, so they said their goodbyes and she went to the bathroom after having broken the seal a few hours earlier.

While tinkling, her liquid courage gave her the guts to send him a message. Something along the lines of “I had a nice time. Feel free to give me a shout if you ever want to get a drink.” She was proud of how smooth she thought she was, until she came out of the bathroom and realized he hadn’t left yet and was still there, chatting with her parents of all people. They walked out together. Handshake for her dad, hug for her mom, awkward hug for her. At least he whispered, “I’ll give you a call.”

As happy as she was to hear that, she knew not to hold her breath. Neither one of them were in any position to be starting anything with anyone. She was happy to get home and just pass out -that was way too much socializing for her after having only been back for two days. Even still, it was a comforting glimpse into her future. A preview of this new life that was hers and hers alone. A life where she could make her own decisions, her own choices and do whatever she wanted with whomever she wanted without worrying about repercussions from some angry, bitter, emotionally stunted man who wanted to control her every move. It was a nice feeling to fall asleep to.

Continue to Chapter Eighteen

Less than a week before she was scheduled to move out, he texted her during her last week at work asking about her paying for half the car repairs, despite her leaving. The car that he bought without her input, that he chose on his own, that was falling apart, he expected her to still pay half for. He had sent several texts one after the other, basically telling her what she would have to do WHEN she paid him, not if.

First of all, she was angry that he was texting her all this while she was working. He could have waited until she had gotten home. If it were the other way around and she was doing that to him while he was working, he would have lost his mind on her. Second of all, she had already promised him an extra month’s rent that she was not legally required to pay, and now he was demanding more from her?

She sent him a chapter book’s worth of a text back, which she regretted as soon as she hit send. She had just played into his hand and now she knew he would get his revenge. She had to get back on the floor but when she opened her phone after her shift she read the 11 texts he had sent in return. “Are you threatening me, little girl?” was the first line of his reply. Before driving home she sent him a long text apologizing for replying in anger and for saying things she didn’t mean. She said she hoped to be able to have a calm, rational discussion when she got home. That was not the case.

The walls were bare when she walked in the door. Though he hadn’t ripped anything up or destroyed anything, everything that belonged to her had been removed from the living area and dumped in the bedroom. “I want you out now! I want you gone!” he shouted at her. She tried to stay calm. She tried to reason with him. But he wasn’t having it. She refused to play this game with him again, especially since she was so close to getting out of this disaster of a relationship. If he wouldn’t listen to reason, then fine. She was gone.

It was a Friday night, and her dad was scheduled to come pick her up with a moving van the following Thursday. She called him and explained that she had to be out by Sunday and that she was afraid for her safety. He asked her to give him a few minutes so he could call and figure out the van situation. In no time, he had called her back saying it was all set and he would see her Sunday morning.

Her boyfriend had heard all of this from the living room. When she got off the phone he came in and said he didn’t actually want her to leave early. He just said that to worry her because he didn’t think it would actually be possible. Real nice. He definitely didn’t know what real love was, and what the amazing people in her life were willing to do for her because of their love for her.

She ended up calling her dad back and re-arranging the van for the Thursday, like they had originally planned. The only reason she did that was because she still had 2 days left of work and she wanted a proper goodbye with her co-workers. But mainly, she wanted as much time as possible with her dog/daughter. They spent the weekend separately doing their own things. She packed while he played loud, aggressive video games.

And then Thursday came. In the blink of an eye, the last seven years of her life had been packed into boxes and were now being loaded into a moving van. It was so surreal.

While her dad and now EX-boyfriend were loading the last of her things, she took a moment to say her parting words to this dog that had filled so much of her heart with joy and love. It was harder to leave her than it was to leave him. She knew that he would love and care for her, but not in the way she could. This dog loved her. This dog looked to her as the maternal figure that would protect her and nourish her and love her for all the days of her life.

She kissed her dog goodbye and told her they would be together again one day, though she wasn’t sure if she truly believed that. She came down the stairs, her dad already waiting in the van, her ex-boyfriend waiting for her on the passenger’s side. They cried as they hugged each other for the last time. He apologized again and wished her luck. She wished him luck too as she climbed into the van and closed the door. They tearily waved goodbye to each other as her dad pulled out of the driveway. This was really happening. This wasn’t a dream. After all that time, and two days before what would have been their 7-year anniversary, this chapter of her life was finally over. She was free.

Continue to Chapter Seventeen