Fairy Tale Fail

Chapter 4 - Failing at relationships

Charisse was not the type who would ever go through a bad breakup (seriously, she would see it from a mile away and preempt it) but she sure knew how to deal with the morning after. On Good Friday, I was camped out on her couch. I couldn't face my family throughout the holiday so I said I'd stay at Charisse's until Easter, and showed up on her doorstep with a bag of clothes and nothing else. 

   She, on the other hand, was ready. We had bags and bags of chips, Thai food takeout, tequila, and Supernatural, Prison Break, Gossip Girl DVDs on queue.  

   "What did he say?" Charisse asked.

   "I fail at relationships," I said, dramatically.

   

***

Don did not explicitly say "You fail at relationships," by the way, but he might as well have.

   The Supposedly Perfect Couple had several fights that were in constant rotation. On that Maundy Thursday, he decided that we were going to talk about all of them. And settle them, once and for all.

   "Do you want to keep going?" he asked me.

   "What do you mean, keep going?"

   "This is only the first church. I've planned for us to go to seven."

   "You're kidding, right? No way am I going to another church after what you just told me. We talk about everything now."

   And at that, Don started with, "I'm just really bothered that you're not more ambitious at work."

   Ugh. My friends hated this argument in particular. What was Don doing questioning my career choices, right? 

   Looking back, it was very relevant. Because deciding where to stand on this had consequences for our future together, and even though it sounded like my career was none of his business, maybe it should be. 

   My stand, which did not change despite the many arguments, was that not everyone wanted to be a CEO. I was fine at my job, as fine as someone could be writing brochures and website copy about wealth management and financial derivatives (snore), but it was just a paycheck to me. 

   I knew I was meant for other things.

   Don didn't understand that. And not just that, he seemed to think less of me because of it.

   "I just think it's a waste," he continued. "A waste of your expensive education."

   More people had arrived at the church to do their Holy Week traditions, but we were still standing there, next to his car. 

   "My parents paid for it, not you," I sputtered, something I had never said before. "And why do you consider it a waste? I do well enough, don't I? What should I be doing?"

   Don shrugged. "It just seems like you're not trying hard enough."

   "So what would make you happy?" I demanded. "What's it going to take?"

   "You shouldn't be doing it for me," Don said, shaking his head, as if frustrated at the child who just wouldn't learn. "You should do all that because you want it for yourself."

   "But I don't," I insisted. "My priorities are different."

   "Then that's a problem," he said, turning his head. The sun reflected off his glasses and into my eyes.

   The next argument was about how he felt that I "didn't have a passion."

   "Oh shit, not that again," I groaned, pushing myself off the curb. "Why, why do you think that I have no passion? I tell you everything. Every little thing that makes me happy, that annoys me, that passes through my mind I tell you. I told you my dream to visit a new country a year, and I wanted to do that with you. And you still think I'm not passionate about anything?"