Do they deserve a second chance?
An extremely, very serious meditation on trust & fidelity
He stood on the other side of my door, begging. It was late. Probably around midnight. We’d broken up three days ago. Now here he was, telling me what a huge mistake he’d made.
I’d won. That was my first thought. I’d beat the competition. Now I had a tough decision to make.
Take him back? Or dump his ass.
Instinct took over, and I opened the door. Kept the chain on. I said, “We’re done. Get the fuck out.”
Of course, it wasn’t my building. I was 25 and still lived with a roommate. A poet. She smoked a lot of pot. In fact, here she comes now to ask me what’s going on. So I tell her it’s Conrad.
My roommate tells me congratulations, and goes to sit on the toilet. Meanwhile, Conrad wails please over and over, with increasing amounts of desperation and longing.
I broke the fourth wall for a minute. Sorry.
Here’s the thing. Conrad humiliated me. Made me feel like garbage. Like I wasn’t good enough. Now, he’d done a total 180.
Could I trust him again?
At the time, it didn’t matter. So I gave into the wailing. Opened the door. His hug felt so damn good. My decision took…
