Rose wasn’t sure what she was going to do after this. Get something to eat? Karaoke? Of course, she’d have to walk home- no question about that. Maybe a cab would drive by if she was lucky, but it was way too late for a bus. Her shoes weren’t the best for the trip either.

Damn. Why’d she have to wear heels? Why did she have to go all the way out here?

What was she even doing right now?

The man in front of her let out an obnoxious noise from deep in his chest. It was something of a mix between a grunt and a sigh, with all the exasperation of both but none of the charm. He was trying to overcome something deep within himself, and it was obvious that he was having trouble. Anyone could recognize the anxiety, even though he didn’t seem like the kind of man to carry any.

In the three and a half weeks that she’d known this man, Rose had made many assumptions on his character, and it seemed that most of them were incorrect. Smart? Maybe. Confident? Definitely. Childish, though? Insecure? Spiteful? Who knew that behind that masculine self-assurance, a cauldron of immaturity had been brewing? This kind of person- a person who wouldn’t listen to an answer he didn’t want to hear- summoned her from halfway across town for a pity party, and she didn’t like that he had that kind of power. Not one bit.

Rose closed her eyes. No, she shouldn’t be worried about getting home right now. She felt a bit embarrassed about letting her mind wander with the mess that was about to unfold in front of her, but when the man jerked, kicking a stray beer can not too far down the street, she forgave herself. She’d rather be anywhere but here. It was okay to pretend that this wasn’t happening in front of her right now. She’d allow herself what small solace she could before the events that would follow from this petty, angry child throwing a tantrum.

He paced a few more times, chest heaving. He was trying to find his peace, and his breath. Finally, he turned to Rose, his eyes still carrying the hints of franticness coursing through his body. He bit his lip to stop his mouth, but if that was enough to stop him then they wouldn’t be here right now.

“Say that again,” he finally spit out.

Rose raised an eyebrow, “Really? You really want me to repeat that?”

The noise again- the grunt-sigh- and he quickly turned away as if to collect himself. No. He changed his mind. He turned back towards her, trying to keep his control over the situation, and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them out of the way. He took a deep breath. Rose waited.

“…Yes,” he decided.

“Yes, you want me to repeat that?” Rose asked again. She wasn’t sure it was the best decision, but if he was insisting…

“No. I changed my mind,” his eyes scrunched shut, “Stop it. You’re confusing me. I’m trying to think.”

“Then think,” Rose knew it wouldn’t help to rush things, “I’ll wait. Let me know when you’re ready.”

She took a seat on the curb. It was all she was given in this unfortunate venue- the side entrance to a shady bar in the middle of downtown wasn’t her choice of a meeting place, but it was all he had given her, so she had to work with it. She leaned into her body for some warmth and let her chin rest on a propped-up palm. She waited. There were some looks cast their way from the passersby entering and leaving the bar, but what else was there to do? She was patient. She was willing to let the man, with his slow thoughts and wavering emotions, process what information he could.

The man started pacing again, and then asked incredulously, “What- What exactly are you doing here?”

Rose sighed.

Though the words were different, it was the same question as before. Really, was that the best he could come up with?

“I’m breaking up with you,” she responded.

The reaction was expected. It was the second time he was hearing it in five minutes, and he still wasn’t processing. He sucked in a huge breath and turned to pace again, but he was realizing that this wouldn’t carry on the conversation, nor solve anything. So, he planted himself, and crouched down so that he and Rose were facing each other. He took another moment to let his thoughts organize into words, and then filter those words, before he curtly told her, “You’re really doing this right now? Here?”

Rose blinked, “Is there a problem with that?”

“Yes, there’s a problem with that,” he growled. The passing couple suddenly grew quieter, alarmed by the tone of his voice, and he stood up and paced again out of embarrassment. He felt safer in his habits.

Fine. If that helped, Rose would oblige. She stood up and started to follow him in his pacing, and he stopped almost immediately.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? Follow you? We’re having a conversation right now,” Rose clicked a heel onto the pavement, as if to show him that she didn’t mind what kind of footwear this would take to get the job done.

“Just-,” he fretted, and then faced her. He pushed his hands onto her shoulders to keep her still, “Just don’t. Don’t do this right now. Let’s just not do this, okay? Let’s go inside and have a drink and forget this happened. Okay?”

“No, we’re doing this now—"

“But why??” 

Suddenly the man’s grip tightened on her arms.

Oh no.

Rose wasn’t having any of that.

How long had they been dating? Could she even call it that? For less than a month, Rose had been patient with this guy. She was interested, maybe somewhat invested. She made the time to go see him despite the work that needed to be done at the café, and despite the warnings and red flags she had convinced herself that maybe the effort she had put in would be worth it. 

Sure, she didn’t like to get too intimate, but maybe that was because she was prudish. 

Yeah, he talked a lot, but maybe he wasn’t used to having someone around who could listen. 

And of course, his personality needed work. A lot of work. But she buckled up and prepared for the challenge, convinced that even if this guy had flaws, she’d be able to accept him. That was what true love was, right? Accepting someone, flaws and imperfections and all?

He was impatient. Rowdy. Immature. Somewhat obnoxious.

Fine. Sure. She’d accept that. Nobody was perfect. Who was she to judge?

But the girlfriend he was hiding away?

No.

Maybe there was a difference between acceptance and tolerance. Rose realized that now. She had been extremely picky about the guys she had met before and was often accused of her high standards. She was hoping to turn a new leaf, to be loose and accepting of those she’d normally find no room for in her heart. But this… wasn’t okay, right? Was having standards such a bad thing? Was is wrong to ask for a guy who wasn’t a scumbag?

Rose didn’t like him all that much. It was a sad truth, and she felt bad for leading him on, but somewhere in the back of her heart she believed that if she waited long enough, she might fall. Maybe, if she was patient, she’d be the star of her own small romantic dramedy and find her happily ever after, but if her happy ending cost all this stress and anger and regret then it wasn’t worth having. She was stupid for putting up with him for so long. A guy who went out of his way to find a side chick while his lovely, successful girlfriend waited for him at home was a scoundrel with a name that wasn’t worth remembering.

What was his question again? Why? Why was she breaking up with him?