No kidding

How I dumped my boyfriend

During my second year of college at Stanford, I realized how uptight I was and how I had never really been living in the moment. How I was letting the stress of college get to me.
That year I met Harry. He had an six-pack, thank you very much, red spiky hair, freckles, perfect nose and piercing blue eyes.
I had never been one to confess my emotions but I thought 'you only live once' and threw myself out there. I told him I liked him and we started dating after a few weeks of awkward silence. Harry soon learned of my obsession with Harry Potter and how I wanted to name one of my twin girls, Ginevra Anne, or Ginny Anne. He immediately dissed Harry Potter and ordered me never to talk about it again. That should have been my first and second signs. I mean, who asks a clearly obsessed girl not to talk about her fandom and then orders her around? Nevertheless I let it go because I definitely had temper, but I had learned over the years how to control it and avoid taking it out on innocent people. And I figured he probably just had a bad trauma with some teasing since his name was Harry and Harry Potter was such a popular series.
Harry was really jealous and didn't let me talk to any other guys but I drew the line there and told him he was being a hypocrite since he checked girls out all the time . He slapped me. I was not stupid. I told my professors and my parents and friends and I stayed away from him. It had barely been two weeks since we had gotten together.
And yet he looked worse for wear every day. I finally went to talk things out with him and he told me about how much he loved me and treasured me. I didn't believe any of that crap but I still gave him a second chance to redeem himself even though him lying should have probably held me back.
He was an ideal boyfriend for the next month and I became a really different person when I was with him. At the moment I wanted both of us comfortable with the relationship and I thought like in a cliche movie, that I could change some of my ridiculous and totally fictional standards. From there it began to be a relationship where we only did what he wanted to do, only ate what he felt like eating and only hung out when it was convenient for him.
I realized that I was becoming one of those girls who changed themselves for a guy. I went to talk to him in his dorm and I found him sleeping with my flat mate. I'm proud to say I didn't cry. I had been having doubts for the last month when he became a completely different person, so much that he said how he was getting used to Harry Potter. I knew there was something going on, like he either was trying really hard to get into my pants or he had a relationship with someone else at the same time, but I had hopes maybe he did love me and I blamed it on my vast reading of cliche and dumb-ass boys. I guess those kind of boys are a little more common than I thought. My flat mate immediately tried to apologize but I could see how fake it was. She had been broke for 3 months, and I had been paying for the rent with the money I had saved for my second year of college since I had gotten a scholarship for business at Stanford, which I desperately needed.
I immediately told her to shove it up her ass and move. Sadly, as if, she couldn't afford anywhere else and lost so much money she had to drop out of Stanford. Harry tried to 'explain' and tell me how it was a one-night thing but I knew better. I told him to man up and tell me the truth. He told me how he had planned to date me so I could tell my flat mate Sarah, how amazing he was and get in good graces with her because he thought she was a nice person that only trusted my judgement. Too bad he didn't realize she was a bitch, they would have been so happy together. After he had slapped me, he thought he ruined his chances with Sarah and made up a plan to get me back. But Sarah was actually the one who approached him first and told him how she liked things rough. They started sleeping together that night. After I approached him and talked things out though, he realized he could have the best of both worlds if he went on with his plan to get me back.
I had been right, and I learned then to always trust my gut, no matter what my head or heart tell me. He only wanted to get in my pants and he was seeing someone behind my back. Asshole. I still smile when I think of his bewildered face when I told him it was fine but that we just had to break up. After graduating from Stanford with my business degree and my photography degree. I went to Cambridge and studied Literature for three years. But after six years of studying, and traveling and partying, I was nearing the end of my money in the bank. I saved up after being a waitress at a local coffee/book shop in London so I could go back to Piscataway, New Jersey, only two hours from NYC.
I immediately applied to Juilliard and other performing universities close by to pursue my music but I was rejected for a scholarship and I knew I had to live the "rough" life for a while to save enough for my first year. I applied to many different jobs and I finally got three minor jobs as a column writer in the newspaper 'The Times', a wedding photographer and a waitress at 'The Cottage' an Asian restaurant in NYC. Many other jobs were impressed with my experience and the fact that I graduated High School at sixteen but they said I wasn't experienced enough and went for other people who applied. The first two jobs I got were easy, I had to write something during the week for Sunday on the 'unseen' poetry section where I would add quotes to continue with the quote game. I was rarely called for weddings as the couples usually went for more experienced photographs and needed other photographers but I got called at least twice a month as I was 'a new and young spirit that could capture beauty in a different way' and I got a few tips and phone numbers.
My last job required me to leave my family's vacation home at ten o'clock in the morning to get the train and ride all the way to NYC to be able to get to 'The Cottage' on time as I had to walk a long way from Grand Central Station and arrive at one pm. I managed to get some good exercise and I lost some weight from my college years and I went to the gym or the park on weekends to run and maybe just read a book I got from the library that was five minutes away. I had a car but by the end of work I was too exhausted to drive two hours back home so I only used it to get to the park, to my weddings and to shop.
All in all, the pay was enough to pay the bills and buy me some clothes at Macy's or Walmart when I wanted to go shopping and to go to dance classes on Saturday mornings. Life was good. I always imagined more, but I knew that my work would soon pay off. And boy, was I right.