Living with My Ex-Girlfriend
Some people require space when they breakup with someone, but that’s not how this one went.
My girlfriend and I met on OkCupid. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and she certainly wasn’t looking for me. I just wanted to get over the last girl that broke my heart – and the last thing I wanted was something else that would emotionally destroy me.
I’ll call her Gaby. I liked Gaby because she didn’t pressure me to date her fully. I liked her because she was down-to-earth and nice. I liked her because she had a strong personality and she liked my jokes. I liked her because she didn’t remind me of anybody else, and that was unbelievably attractive to me.
There was a mutual draw that encouraged us to casually see each other for three months – until I finally gave in and agreed to call it a relationship.
“Okay,” I said one night at a concert. “You can be my girlfriend.”
I chose to ignore the fact that I had already confessed I loved her a few weeks prior, while drunk and walking down the street. She was the sober one in the relationship. To make up for her maturity, I decided to skyrocket my irresponsibility to new heights. “I’ll drink for the both of us,” I often said when we were out in public, and then she’d carry me home late at night. She drove; the truck was often pulled over on side streets so I could vomit up the night’s mistakes.
We dated for eight months and then, when we were both separately looking for new apartments, we decided to move in together.