A Hex is a Wish Your Heart Makes

That fuck. I sat across from him, watched him over-salt everything on his plate. Observed him tucking a napkin, bib-style, into the collar of his button down. We each had Target bags filled with things we both wanted returned to us from each other's apartments. I looked in the bag he handed me, thinking it would contain my heart, and found the Rolling Stones CD box set. I didn't even have a CD player, but he was NOT keeping the Stones. He could listen to the radio or whatever.

He ruined this restaurant for me forever. I would never be able to come back without thinking about this night, about how we were now broken up, and I still had stuff to get back from him, and this was the only way I was ever going to get it back. He knew it was one of my favorites, and it was ruined now. Because of him. Hence, that fuck.

I said, "Why did you pick this place to meet tonight? There are a zillion other places to meet. In fact, I would rather have met at McDonald's anywhere than here. Now, I can't come back here again because they're going to recognize me as the crying girl who got dumped by a guy who looks like a reject from the Revenge of the Nerds casting call."

"I wanted to have a nice dinner. You were secondary...no, you didn't even figure into the decision. I only wanted a good dinner, and I knew I liked just about everything on the menu here," he paused to take a bite of his shrimp linguine.

I envisioned him looking at me, in agony, with panic in his eyes. His face would turn red, his arms jerkily clutching at his throat, then finger pointing at his throat. I would say something like, "Oh, fun. Charades. Let's see." Then in my best game show host voice, I would say, "Strep throat for the win, Bob."

In the midst of the reverie, he snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Why do you do that? You zone out while I'm talking to you. It's so rude."

I was probably going to start crying from being angry and frustrated, but I wanted to get one thing out in the open without tears. "I zone out because you are so boring. If I actually listened to everything that came out of your mouth, I think I might have killed you because you sound like an 85-year old man. And then I think, 'Why didn't I smother him with a pillow while he was sleeping the last time he condescended to me?'"

He stared at me, jaw dropped. I said, "Don't ask questions if you aren't sure of the answer."

"Do you really want to kill me?" he asked, a little bit of wonder in his voice.

"No. I'm not going to put my future in jeopardy for you. You aren't worth jail. And you weren't very good in bed. If I'm going to risk jail, it's going to be for someone who's walking away with every orgasm I might've someday had, and that's not you," and clear as a bell, I knew it was true, but I had given this piece of shit my heart, completely against my best judgment. If I could kick my own ass, I would have. "Oh, you want to know something else? You never could find my clitoris. Why couldn't you look it up on the internet or buy a book or something? Why couldn't you ask one of your friends? You are bad at sex. Period. I should be the one doing the dumping, but I stupidly love you. Give me a couple months, and I won't love you anymore. But today, I love you even though you're a bumbling sexual idiot."

He paled, and I was so happy to be the one to make him feel like a failure. Of course, now, he would figure out all the sex things, and then he'd become a nerdy sexual dynamo. And he would know he had me to thank for his enhanced bedroom skills, and maybe just thinking of me would be an erection killer. Maybe he'd go downtown on his new girlfriend, have breakfast at the Y, and maybe she'd be screaming in ecstasy, and she'd be dying for his dick, and he'd be softer than room temperature butter. I think knowing that he'd be unable to perform would be even better than watching him choke to death.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I hope you can never sustain an erection. I hope the only way you can get off is by jerking yourself off. I hope you will always be a disappointment to every sex partner you ever have. I wish I were a gypsy and could put a hex on you because you are the worst boyfriend I have ever had. You cheated on me, and you deserve a very unsatisfying, very mediocre life."

"Oh," he said, non-plussed. "I shouldn't have asked."

When the bill came, the waitress looked at both of us with our red-rimmed eyes. "Will it be one check or two?"

Before he could respond, I said, "One check. He'll take it."

The waitress walked away, and he said, "I thought we would split it, since we're not together anymore."

I glared at him, remaining silent, thinking I could use x-ray vision to see inside his skull and find the broken cog or whatever it was that made him think it was all right to be a shit boyfriend. "You're paying because you're a cheater. You're paying because it's the right thing to do. You're paying because you suck. You're paying because I need to go get checked for an STD because your dick has been to places that I have not sanctioned. Do you want more reasons why you're paying?"

"I guess not," he said. He couldn't even have the decency to look sheepish.

The waitress brought the bill to the table, and he placed his credit card on it without looking.

"I look forward to the day I don't love you anymore and don't want to end your life. I look forward to being indifferent. What do you look forward to?" I asked.

"I look forward to getting out of here. In all the time I've known you, I don't think I've ever seen you this angry, and you are fucking scary, and I'm kind of afraid of you right now. As well as I know you, I don't know if you're a diabolical she-devil or something, and I think you might be. That's scares me. A lot."

And maybe instilling fear was my revenge. Maybe it was my super power. But, mostly, I hoped, if I had a super power, it would be giving him a soft dick for the rest of his life. No woman would put up with that for long, even if he figured out oral sex.

We exited the booth, walked out of the restaurant, and stood facing one another on the sidewalk. We hugged, and I whispered in his ear, "You're a disappointment." I squeezed him just a bit, released the hug and walked away.