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The International Writers Magazine
:Relationships: It's not you...it's me

The unexpected forgiveness of a man….
Katrina Roberts

It’s not you, it’s me’. A common phrase used in a break up, used by men and women all around the world when trying to duck out of a crap relationship. An easy way out, they believe, it can’t go wrong, yet it always does.

We think ‘yes, the perfect way to get rid of this ball and chain wrapped tight around my poor little ankle.’
You don’t expect it to go right when you say it allowed to the other half, but in your head it sounds so right.
‘I understand’, he says.
‘WHAT?’ He understands? This can’t be right, HE understands? He’s letting me get away with this outrageous cliché slogan which cowards use to be able to run way, run run, as fast as you can!
Think, what’s he doing? He must be up to something, when does a man forgive a woman this easily?
When does a man ever forgive ANYONE so easily?
‘I understand, I love you and just want you to be happy’.
That word again, ‘understand’, I never realised that word was even in a man's vocabulary. I was stuck, confused, lost for word, the tears start welling up in my eyes, how do I reply to that? ‘ok cheers, nice knowing you, might see you around’? No, that won’t work, think, what do I do?

‘uuhhh…’ my mouth tenses up, saliva sloshing around inside, I swallow hard, squeeze my eyes tight shut. There’s no relief in what he said, just utter bewilderment. I sit there, opposite this, this thing. He can’t be human, when has that line EVER worked? Where’s the fight for me? He says he loves me, where’s the love? Letting me go, just like that, I want some attention! At least a tear or two would make me feel better about the whole thing!

Strange isn’t it, we want to end a relationship, but want the other to show they don’t, that they still want you, even though you don’t want it! I sigh. My mind feels like a washing machine on fast spin. I feel disappointed, we set ourselves up for a fight, a struggle, and instead, a huge anticlimax. ‘Strange’ I thought to myself, ‘very strange indeed’.

We sit in silence, me wracking my brain trying to think of something other than a bunch of random words to spew out of my mouth. ‘right’. I say, the ‘t’ produces a spray of spit which had built up in my mouth, and scatters over him. ‘Shit, that helped’ I thought, my cheeks turn as crimson as a plum, sweat starts to build up on my forehead, I sit there like a big fat sweating plum. ’I’ll go then’, I say quietly, and stand up to leave.
‘Ok’ he says.
I walk off, heels clicking angrily on the hard floor and slam the door behind me.
© Kat Roberts December 2004
Kat is a Creative Writing student at Portsmouth University

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