My boyfriend of five years recently told me he no longer likes the fighting and the arguing between us, so he showed ME the door our of our new apartment that we had been living in for only two months. He showed me the door because he wouldn’t help me while I did all the cooking; when I asked all he would say is “well, you don’t even cook every day”. He showed me the door because he wouldn’t help me or spend time with me when I was washing his dirty laundry every weekend, and he had some REALLY dirty laundry (he worked out intensely every day). He showed me the door because his expensive eating habits was draining my bank account since I had to purchase all the groceries every week. He showed me the door because he refused to help me clean our apartment while he went out to the trail and rode his bike for hours. He showed me the door because he hastily pressured me into signing a lease for “our” first place together that he chose behind my back because it was close to HIS job, HIS favorite park, and was within HIS price range. He showed me the door because “our” place isolated me from anyone else I knew, and it caused me to drive a two and a half hour commute every day, and I had to drive to the nearest laundry faculties alone. He showed me the door because he would constantly refuse invitations from my family to come over for vacations (free plane tickets, and lodging), holidays, or just to hang out. He showed me the door because while his father was dying in a nursing home for two years, I sat there with him and his mother every weekend, holiday, and vacation spending all my free time (outside of work and school) to be them. He showed me the door because I took a week off of work with no paid vacation time to sit by his side in the hospital for the last days of his father’s life. He showed me the door because my parents stopped speaking to me when they found out I was dating someone outside my religion. He showed me the door when I chose him to come to my graduation which meant my own father stood me up on that day. He showed me the door when I stayed in Michigan to be by his side at the nursing home instead of finding a good job in another state with a better economy. He showed me the door because he would tell me I ate too much and declared to my friends at my birthday that I had “put on some weight”. He showed me the door when I asked him to talk to the neighbors about slamming their door and shaking our furniture; he said it didn’t bother him, so he wouldn’t do anything. He showed me the door because he didn’t want me to bother him by starting a conversation because he would rather bring his job home and work than to speak to me after dinner.

He showed me the door because I asked him, crying on the floor of the bathroom, to help me. Help me with anything, the cleaning, the cooking, the groceries, the laundry, the neighbors, the manager at the groceries that stalked me every time I went shopping; anything! I too had to go to work full time, and go to grad school at night, and I couldn’t do it all alone. He showed me the door because when I asked him for help, he would deliver a sharp and quick no before I even finished my sentence. He showed me the door when I told him I was unhappy about “our” apartment and how isolated I felt. Worst of all he showed me the door when I asked him to compromise with me, to acknowledge me, and to care about my feelings as I did for him for five years. This spoiled only child showed me the door because he never had to learn to compromise, to care for others, to acknowledge anyone else’s requests; he never had to put his own desires aside for anyone else who wasn’t terminally ill ( meaning it wasn’t his choice). He showed me the door because he completely forgot about all that I did for his family, for him while he was in school, the support, the gifts, my time, my heart, my love, my devoted attention to his every request. Now I’m standing outside that door, still wondering what happened.