The Ultimate Dealbreaker

I've been accused of having a 'bleeding heart.' I am forgiving--almost too forgiving at times.

But there is one guy--we'll call him Mr. Dick Wackington, Esquire (name coined by guest blogger Nina Lovehall, who can't stand his @ss)--who keeps trying. But he will never ever, and I mean ever, get back into my good graces.

Why, you may ask? Let me explain.

Last year, I had surgery. It was fairly serious and definitely a huge disruption to my life and my freedom. It meant I couldn't drive for 2 months, and I spent some of that time on crutches.

I had been seeing Mr. Wackington for a few months at the time. He promised to check in on me frequently to make sure I was OK. I figured with his help, and with that of some great friends, neighbors, cousins and my dad and brothers, I'd be just fine.

I was almost right. 

My family, neighbors and friends were indeed fantastic. I didn't want or need for anything because they took good care of me.

But Mr. Wackington? He didn't show up for four days after I had surgery. My dad, less than thrilled to see him at that point, still believed him when Mr. Wackington told my dad he'd come back to check on his baby girl when my dad returned home (two hours away) a week later.

But he didn't keep his promise. Instead, Mr. Wackington told me he didn't have time to come check on me. He was going to happy hour instead. And even as I hobbled around on crutches, I told him not to bother coming by on any day if happy hour was more important than making sure I was OK.

And so, Mr. Wackington disappeared for a few months, just long enough for me to recover and get back on my feet. I run into him out and about every couple of months, and every time I see him (and I do mean every, single, flippin' time), he tells me how "beautiful" he thinks I look, how he messed up, and how I should just let him make it up to me. One time, he told me I should let him buy me a drink as part of his "penitence" for what he did. Seriously?

I've responded on more than one occasion that Mr. Wackington can kiss my @ss. Yes, I actually said that, and I've actually said worse, depending on how hard he presses me. Like, he really gets all up in my personal space and has a difficult time taking "no" for an answer.

But it's simple--If he didn't want to be around when I was at my worst, he definitely doesn't deserve me at my best. Most recently, he had a friend lobbying me on his behalf, telling me how very sorry Mr. Wackington is for treating me the way he did, how I could've been The One, etc.

Sigh. Gimme a break.

My dad says that men make mistakes, and I get that. But I can't be with someone who I can't trust to have my back when I need it most. That time period was one of the few times in my life where I felt almost totally dependent on other people. And Mr. Wackington gave me his @ss to kiss, and he was downright mean and nasty about it. Not cool.

So it doesn't matter how many times he apologizes or how "beautiful" he thinks I look now that I've recovered from the surgery and lost a few pounds, to boot. It's a wrap.

*Sings* -- He must not know 'bout me...To the left, to the left.

Talk back: What is your ultimate dealbreaker?

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