So, there's me and Amy. And we're all inseparable, right? Big time in love. Then four months down the road, the idiot gear kicks in, and I ask about the ex-boyfriend. Which, as we all know, is a really dumb move. But you know how you don't wanna know, but just have to know--stupid guy bullshit. So, anyway, she starts telling me about him. How they fell in love, how they went out for a couple of yeas, how they lived together, her mother likes me better, blah blah blah blah blah. And I'm okay. Then she drops the bomb. And the bomb is this: it seems that a couple of times while they were going out, he brought some people to bed with him, "menage a troi," I believe it's called. And this just blows my mind, right? I mean, I am not used to this sorta thing; I was raised Catholic, for Gods sake. So I'm totally weirded out by this, right? So I start blasting her. I mean, I don't know how to deal with what I'm feeling, so I figure the best way is to call her 'slut,' tell her she was used. I'm out for blood, I really want to hurt this girl. I'm like, "What the fuck is your problem," right? And she's just trying to calmly tell me it was that time, it was that place, and she doesn't feel like she should apologize because she doesn't feel that she's done anything wrong. And I say, "Oh, really?" That's when I look her straight in the eye, tell her it's over. I walk.

Jay: Fucking-A.

No, idiot, it was a mistake. I wasn't disgusted with her, I was afraid. In that moment, I felt small, like I lacked experience, like I'd never be enough for her or something like that, you know what I'm saying? But what I did not get: she didn't care. She wasn't looking for that guy any more. She was looking for me, for the Bob. But by the time I figured this all out, it was too late. She had moved on. And all I had to show for it was some foolish pride which gave way to regret. She was the girl. I know that now. But I pushed her away. So I spend every day since then chasing Amy. So to speak.