Member-only story
It’s not you, it’s me.
Those words, or words to that effect, had been used on me a few times, but not for more than three decades.
I was the dumpee more often than the dumper while going through high school and college. Most times, the breakups were less dramatic and done through hurtful words than they were by simply not returning calls or otherwise mutually avoiding one another.
My first girlfriend broke up with me by written note, the same way that she introduced herself to me when she was a braces-wearing freshman and I was a sophomore in high school. I had crushes on girls prior to that and had most definitely given quite a bit of thought to them, but Sarah H. was the first one that let me know in words and actions that she liked me.
By the way, I have now been married for nearly twenty-four years and with my wife for six years prior to that. As a matter of fact, I met her thirty, yes thirty, years ago as of April 27th. We met near the end of the spring semester of our sophomore year at the UW in Mad-City.
We kind of sort of broke up for a bit, but I soon came to my senses, told her how much she meant to me and the rest, as they say, is history.
But I digress.
This is about my kind of, sort of break up with Medium.
