When you look back on your failed romantic relationships (and most of us have had one or two), was there a time when you knew, with absolute certainty, that it was over? I’m not thinking of the arguments or the betrayals, but those little revelations that tell you This person is not for me, no way, no how.
An acquaintance writes:
I was teasing this guy I’ve been dating this morning over the fact that he could not be bothered to pay any attention to the war in Georgia. This morning he said casually over coffee, “I don’t understand what they’re doing here.”
“Who?” I asked.
“The Russians,” he replied.
Yes, he thought the Russians had invaded the United States. And he still couldn’t be bothered to look into it.
I remember one fellow by the name of Tony who took an inexplicable shine to me a number of years ago. Gorgeous, but dense as a bag of rocks. We enjoyed one another’s company for a while. But the more we talked, the more his intellectual limitations became apparent.
Like the time I mentioned that I had lived in the Virgin Islands. He gave me a blank stare. “They’re a group of islands in the Caribbean Sea,” I explained.
“Ca-rib-be-enn?” he sounded out. “What’s that near?”
I took a beat, then said, “It’s, um, near Puerto Rico,” knowing that wouldn’t help him in the least.
“Oh,” he said, frowning.
My friend Herb whispered to me, as we walked back to the car, “I like ’em cute-but-dumb as much as the next guy. But does he have opposable thumbs?”
That was when I knew.
Tell me your stories. When did you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that your relationship was doomed?