Hey Lou

A short story

I am sitting at a table in a diner, waiting for him. I told him to meet for lunch, something unsuspecting. If I told him we needed to talk, he’d have a whole crisis; I could already imagine the panic he’d be in if I did. I’m breaking up with him, and I can’t let him suspect a thing. Can’t let him know what’s coming for him, that today, I will pack my things and leave.

If I told him we need to talk, I can already imagine the waterfalls that would come out of his eyes. He’s such a crier; he cries more than a widow at her husband’s funeral. He’d cry after we had sex, cry at a movie, just cry, cry, cry. I would always be there to hold and comfort him. God, when I tell him we are breaking up, he’ll cry. I’ll have to hold his hands as he sobs. He’s so ugly when he cries. The funny thing is, when I cry, he just doesn’t do anything. He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to be done. I’m not a crier, so when I cry, it's because something has hit me hard, and I need comfort. He just stares at me. Whatever, I won’t have to deal with his inability to comfort me anymore. I won’t have to hold him anymore as he shoves his face into my shirt, getting his snot and tears on it.

I take a sip of my coffee, hes late, hes always late. God, I would have to tell him an hour before anything happened so that we could show up on time. He thought it was some adorable quirky habit, when in reality he’s just rude, plain rude. It’s not cute, and I’d bite my tongue every time we were late. Whenever I tried to bring it up, my attempts were futile; he would apologize and say he would try harder. He never did. I always hated how he’d look at me with puppy dog eyes when he apologized. Like he wanted me to pet his head and call him a good boy. Disgusting. I hated how he infantilized himself to seem like he was sorry. That he was just a helpless puppy, and I was this cruel warlock.

People say that if you love someone, you’ll put up with their flaws. I guess I never loved him. I don’t know why I was with him; he’s good-looking, but there’s nothing else to him. He lacks depth; it's like he never matured past high school. I want someone whom I can grow with, not be stunted. I have spent too long dealing with a man whose brain functions like a teenager. He’s so immature it’s insane. If I did something by accident, something that upset him, he would purposely do things he knew upset me back. He wouldn’t communicate or do anything, so I would spend my days worrying and thinking about what I did wrong. Swear he loved the torment; he loved that I would lie awake, restless. I spent too many nights worried about what I did wrong, about how I could improve myself for someone like him.

He was so performative it was insane. Spending his time talking about authors I know he hasn’t read. I think that’s what lured me in; he put on this persona as a deep, well-rounded man. We met at a protest, and I thought I met someone as passionate as me. Turns out he was a poser in disguise. Turns out that was all a facade, a lie to lure people in. A lie to make him look more interesting than he acutally is.

I would catch him in lies all of the time. Catch him trying to sound smarter than he acutally is. He’d make up words to make himself sound smarter. I would pretend to be fascinated as he went on nonsensical rants. Even if I knew he was wrong, I wouldn’t correct him, because if I did, he would say I was being mean. It’d turn into a whole thing; he’d call me words like ‘know-it-all’ and ‘mean’. So childish. For a while I’d fight back, but then I just gave up. Can’t believe I let him walk all over me like that. I just wanted to avoid a fight, wanted to avoid his cries, wanted to avoid the name-calling.

He was a big name-caller. Even more proof he didn’t mature past high school.

Another thing that bothered me was that he was always weird about me being the first man he’s been with. Now, I don’t mind being the first guy he’s been with, at all. He’d just be weird about it, make strange comments. Talk shit about his exes; he’d just be straight misogynistic. I think he was trying to impress me? Not sure. He’d call them bitches, and whores. Classic things men like him say to demean women. Say he no longer has to worry about someone being moody on their period. When I told him he shouldn’t say that, he said I just wouldn’t understand because I’ve never dated a woman. Acting like I didn’t grow up with a mother or sisters. Acting like I am not a grown man who knows objectively that’s something you shouldn’t say. He would just say these things to demean women, more evidence he hasn’t grown past high school. That he still views women so immaturely.

The waitress keeps passing me by, asking if he’s still coming. I look like such an idiot right now. I keep telling her yes, that he’s just chronically late, and I ask for another coffee refill. I like to put a lot of sugar and creamer in my coffee. Of course he was a coffee snob who said I wasn’t ‘acutally enjoying it’ and that I just wanted to drink a dessert. I asked him why he cared so much to let me enjoy things. Would say I was just being a baby about it, and that he was just teasing me. I know he wasn’t just teasing me, because he’d bring it up constantly. He would force me to drink black coffee, to try to get my taste buds ‘used to it’. Stupid, I know. I would lie to him and say I might be open to drinking it this way. When we moved in together, he insisted on buying this expensive espresso machine that he barely uses. Funny thing is that I use it more than him. I love the milk foam in my coffee, love how it combines with this creamer. God, I fucking love creamer.

This diner was where we went on our first date. Cruel, I know, taking him to our first date spot to break up with him. But I really like the food, its aboustely amazing. I love diner food; he said it was too greasy. He never just let me enjoy things; he would always have to criticize it. Told him I like romance movies; he of course would say he doesn’t like them because their cliche and always end in a happy ending. God forbid I like happy endings. Sorry, I don’t want to watch some foreign film in a language I don’t understand. Sorry, I don’t want to watch an art film made on a five-dollar budget, filmed on an iPhone 7.

He’s texted me that he’s here, that he’s excited to have lunch with me. I don’t respond; I don’t know what to say. I’ll have to act normal, order food with him, and listen to him chew so loudly. He chews like a damn cow. I told him I have severe misophonia, that it really bothers me. It just encouraged him; he thought it funny when I covered my ears and cowered. He thought it was so funny to put me in distress like that. It got so bad that I bought noise-cancelling headphones. One time he hid them, and he thought it was hilarious as I tore apart the apartment looking for them.

He just entered the diner; I waved him down. He comes and sits in the booth with me. I barely talk, and he rants about his boring day. He always talks about nothing. Just filler shit. We order food; I order my favorite: waffles and fried chicken. He orders a salad, telling me I should care more about my health. That they probably fry that shit in unhealthy seed oils. Hilarious, I am more active than him. I like to go on runs, and he likes to sit on the couch.

It goes by painstakingly slowly. But, finally it’s over. We are about to get our check; of course, I’ll pay, even after breaking the news to him. I am not heartless.

“That waitress was so stupid.” He told me, “I asked her for the dressing on the side, and guess what it came on the salad.” I want to roll my eyes so badly; oh no, a small inconvenience, the end of the world. He could’ve told her and gotten it fixed, but no, he just wants to complain.

“I’m breaking up with you, Lou.” I blurted out.

A/N: Hey guys, different than my usual work! But I got inspired by a Liz Phair song, which is called ‘Hey Lou’.