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Birthday blues

“Why are you doing this?” I question. “Yes, it was great for me too, but so what? Are you going to tell me you liked it so much that you needed to go away and think better of it? Spare me comments like that.” I look out the window and watch the road.

“You think so little of me. I haven't slept with anyone since I met you. After I dropped you off at home on the day we met, I went home to think about how polite and foul-mouthed you are at the same time and how you didn't do everything to get my attention, which by the way, doesn’t happen. God, why do you think so poorly of me?”

“Because to me, you're the kind of guy who breaks the hearts of girls in love,” I say, looking into his eyes.

His mouth drops as he concludes, “Someone has hurt you in the past, haven’t they?”

I don’t expect him to be this analytical and rightly nail the reason I am so commitment-phobic.

“Yes, they have done the damage already, and it was painful,” I reply as a little tear escapes my eye. He stays silent, waiting
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