In our Dealbreakers series, exes report on the habit, belief, or boxer brief that ended the affair.
I met him on the eighth floor of the university library. He asked if he could use my calculator, then sidled over to my table to complain about how long he would be on the bus that evening. I offered to give him a ride home, but after we left campus, he refused to tell me where he lived. So I brought him back to my place.
He was sitting in my room paging through my books when my roommate pulled me over and said, “I thought you weren’t going to do this anymore.” I had sort-of-kind-of sworn off men forever earlier in the day, saying that I was tired of short, meaningless sex acts punctuated by infrequent moments of human connection. At the time I had been very serious about this new life of celibacy, self-denial, and asceticism, but that had been hours ago.
We started dating. He was energetic, adventurous, and didn’t even want to go steady. There were moments where I felt like he could slip his hand beneath my ribs and palpate something I had not thought him capable of reaching. But there was no use getting too attached either way. He was moving back home after he finished school unless he could find a lady to marry, and I was not a lady, so there was never a thought of any windswept promises of love.
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