and then i went and didn't do it again

But if I'm so strong, why don't my boyfriends ever choose without me having to tell them to?

I sat on the grass in the summer, wondering how this could be happening. Again. And wondering why I thought being outside in the sun would make this easier. While he focused on looking at anything but me, I landed on this: this break up will be different because we never sit in the grass.


"You have to choose," I said. "You can either treat me right or it's over."


He looked at my eyes. Held my gaze. I didn't back down. This is what strong girls do, right?


But if I'm so strong, why don't my boyfriends ever choose without me having to tell them to?


He spoke. "I don't think I can," he said.


Then he took me inside and made me lunch before I drove home. He told me he didn't have anyone lined up after me, but he was dating the baton-twirling slutbag within days and within my range of vision. I knew right then that I made the good choice. But I cried myself to sleep anyway.


Months later, she slept with his best friend.


Months after that, he knocked up another girl.


Months after that, I forgave him for being a dumb-ass nineteen-year-old.


Somewhere in that time line, he figured out his mistake. But years later, I am still saying these words, still thinking them:


"You have to choose. Treat me the way I deserve to be treated, or this is over."

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