The International Writers Magazine: Relationships: It's not
you...it's me (From Our Archives)
unexpected forgiveness of a man
not you, its 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
cant 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 dont expect it to go right when you say it aloud to the
other half, but in your head it sounds so right.
I understand, he says.
WHAT? He understands? This cant be right, HE understands?
Hes 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, whats 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 wont
work, think, what do I do?
my mouth tenses up, saliva sloshing around inside,
I swallow hard, squeeze my eyes tight shut. Theres no relief in
what he said, just utter bewilderment. I sit there, opposite this, this
thing. He cant be human, when has that line EVER worked? Wheres
the fight for me? He says he loves me, wheres 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 isnt it, we want to end a relationship, but want the other
to show they dont, that they still want you, even though you dont
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. Ill
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
© Kat Roberts December 2004
Kat is a Creative Writing graduate
all rights reserved