I got home from school one evening and left my bag inside my car, just for a minute. I passed an “out of place” stranger while walking into my apartment. He said hello, so did I. When I got back to my car, someone had smashed the window, stolen my bag and wallet. I called to tell my boyfriend what had happened–that I was scared because I suspected it was that stranger who knew what I looked like and where I lived. The boyfriend’s response: “I’m doing the dishes.”
Aftermath: I stayed with him for at least another year and a half knowing each day I didn’t love him. Why, I really don’t know. It was awful and devoid of passion, love and even friendship. I don’t care if I ever see him again!
This post was submitted by sparkyluck.