He planned to fly to California to help me drive my car home from college. I planned to give him my virginity in a Hampton Inn off I-80.
Instead, he called me drunk during a friend’s birthday dinner. I held back tears in a Morton’s Steakhouse bathroom while he told me he was “tempted” to flirt with a girl at his communications conference.
It was one ruined night too many.
The next day, I called him drunk during a football game. I broke up with him in an LA Coliseum bathroom, crying because I still loved him, crying because I finally felt relief.