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This week, a lawyer gets dumped by her boyfriend, but not before a few more hot hookups: 30, single, New York.
9:12 a.m. I am awake. I was out until 3 last night, but at least I got about five hours of sleep.
10 a.m. My roommate left coffee in the pot, so I pour a cup and heat it in the microwave. Microwaved coffee is tragic, but I’m a bit hungover and regretting fighting with my boyfriend last night. We met on Bumble and have been together for two years.
We were at a club for his friend’s birthday, and I drank too much and started yelling at him about not proposing to me yet and not moving our relationship along fast enough. I said some mean things in regards to his family (parents are divorced, siblings are all at war) and how he has a fucked-up relationship with love. I think I went below the belt …
1 p.m. I’m sweating out the alcohol at the gym.
3 p.m. Finally, I text him. “We okay, babe?”
5 p.m. I’m being lazy on the couch, thinking about what to order in for dinner. He hasn’t texted me back and I feel anxious.
6 p.m. I call him. He doesn’t pick up.
9 p.m. He’s not going to communicate with me today. I just know it. I make myself get into bed and my body naturally falls asleep. I desperately need a good night of rest.
8 a.m. Now I’m really worried about things with my boyfriend. One messy night can’t just end things? Did we have cracks in our foundation? Sure. I think we have different definitions of what our 30s should look like. I’d like to settle...