Here are six signs that I’m leaving you (if your girlfriend tosses any of these at you, beware):
“I won’t be mad if you kiss Angela, seriously.” I’ve suddenly turned into the most generous, free-loving girlfriend who encourages you to check out other women and doesn’t even notice if your eyes get lost in someone else’s cleavage.
“Mark is the biggest douche.” The thing is I talk about Mark constantly. Mark this and Mark that. I often talk about Mark in negative terms but I somehow manage to bring him into every conversation that we’re having: “You know, this scrambled tofu reminds me what that idiot Mark said about Romanian cinema.”
“My shrink says I can’t talk about it to you.” I’m seeing a therapist. There’s nothing wrong with me, yet I sit on someone’s couch once a week and vent about God knows what. Do you know what I’m talking about? I’m talking about how to leave you.
“It’s a two-day get-away for my Stitch & Bitch class.” I’ve never shown any interest in knitting, yet, there I am again, gone for the third night this week and there’s no scarf or sweater in sight. (Another version of this is staying at a friend’s house because she’s going through a breakup.)
“Not tonight, hon.” Sure, we have less sex than when we first started dating. In fact, we have no sex at all. I have developed all kinds of pains and allergies and have to go to sleep right away because there’s always an important meeting in the morning.
“I’ve got a job in Australia!” ‘Nuff said. My sudden interest in koalas seems to overshadow every other plan that we’ve ever made together. I mumble something about the beauty of long-distance relationships and Skype, but the truth is, I’m leaving you.
Photo courtesy of Simplified Complication.