Dating Chronicles (Book One)

Chapter Two

I'm not surprised by Marks' confession. I'm relieved. I wasn't the one to bring up the reason we've been avoiding each other. Trying to have sex the last six months have been excruciating. I can count on one hand the times he's tried to initiate sex: zero. Not that I've attempted to make it any better. On many occasions, I've pretended to be asleep when he'd get home late from work, and I've also picked up late shifts at work so that we wouldn't bump into each other until the following morning. There has also been a few times I've gone without shaving anything aside from my underarms. More like weeks. What would be the point? Mark hasn't touched me in months.

Our sex life hadn't always been like this. We used to have sex, not the fireworks type of sex, but it was good. At least, that's what I thought. I wouldn't have anyone to compare Mark to, because I've never been with anyone else.

And, if I tried, I wouldn't be able to pinpoint exactly when it started going bad. However, I can tell you that it is most definitely not me. It's never been me. I'm pretty. I'm smart. A total catch. Nope. It's him. He's a douche. A douche that I actually wanted to marry one day. Just not today.

Struggling with a response, eventually I reply with, "You're probably stressed out about being laid off."

He takes a loud pull of his cigarette and says, "Maybe."

"Did you make an appointment with the doctor?" I ask, kicking myself the moment the words escape my lips. Of course, the most obvious thing to do is call his doctor and find out what's wrong with his man stick but it's also the one thing he doesn't want to do because no man in the world wants to find out his disco stick is broken. So, I add casually, "To check your stress levels."

"No."

"Well, your penis is not going to fix itself dumbass," my mind screams. Instead, I say absolutely nothing. Which given the circumstances, is the most logical and safe choice.

He doesn't say anything more. Instead, he wipes away his tears while I wonder how I ended up with a limp-dick-smoker. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a sex-crazed woman in any way, shape or form, but when you're no longer getting laid, sex becomes important.

And, I love Mark, but love is never enough. Dreams and desires change and evolve. I realized, more than I was ready to accept, that I had evolved without Mark. I was no longer willing to wait for him to change.

Every time he failed me in the bedroom, he failed our relationship, our love, our trust and us. There was nothing more that I could do or say. Our relationship had finally come to an end.

A few seconds later, I hear a rustling from the living room. And then a door slams. Expecting him to return in a furry, I wait. I hear the tell tale ding of the elevator, triggering me to jump out of bed. I search the apartment. He's left. But not before ripping down the collage I made the night before, which I strategically placed around the apartment. I hightail it back to the bedroom and grab my cellphone.

"You will not believe what just happened?" I tell my best friend Amanda.

"Tell me you didn't really go through with it?" Amanda said.

"Of course I did. I've been asking him for months to quit doing drugs and he hasn't. Our sex life is suffering in the process and he thinks a little tear drop is going to make me feel sorry for him?" I pick up the torn pieces of paper from the floor.

Perhaps, I went overboard in my attempt to pull him from rock bottom, and although the last few months had been torturous, what I had failed to understand was that his failures as a man were his alone to bear. My desire for romance, sex, and passion, were rebutted with recriminating second guesses, Why didn't I admit to myself that he was a drug addict and a liar? Why did I stay? Why didn't I run off with that hot Mixed Martial Arts Instructor I met a few months ago?