Fairy Tale Fail Read Free Page A

way,
but he might as well have.
    The Supposedly Perfect Couple had
several fights that were in constant rotation. On that Maundy
Thursday, he decided that we were going to talk about all of them.
And settle them, once and for all.
    "Do you want to keep going?" he asked
me.
    "What do you mean, keep
going?"
    "This is only the first church. I've
planned for us to go to seven."
    "You're kidding, right? No
way am I going to another church after what you just told me. We
talk about everything now ."
    And at that, Don started with, "I'm
just really bothered that you're not more ambitious at
work."
    Ugh. My friends hated this argument in
particular. What was Don doing questioning my career choices,
right?
    Looking back, it was very relevant.
Because deciding where to stand on this had consequences for our
future together, and even though it sounded like my career was none
of his business, maybe it should be.
    My stand, which did not change despite
the many arguments, was that not everyone wanted to be a CEO. I was
fine at my job, as fine as someone could be writing brochures and
website copy about wealth management and financial derivatives
(snore), but it was just a paycheck to me.
    I knew I was meant for other
things.
    Don didn't understand that. And not
just that, he seemed to think less of me because of it.
    "I just think it's a waste," he
continued. "A waste of your expensive education."
    More people had arrived at the church
to do their Holy Week traditions, but we were still standing there,
next to his car.
    "My parents paid for it, not you," I
sputtered, something I had never said before. "And why do you
consider it a waste? I do well enough, don't I? What should I be
doing?"
    Don shrugged. "It just seems like
you're not trying hard enough."
    "So what would make you happy?" I
demanded. "What's it going to take?"
    "You shouldn't be doing it for me,"
Don said, shaking his head, as if frustrated at the child who just
wouldn't learn. "You should do all that because you want it for
yourself."
    "But I don't," I insisted. "My
priorities are different."
    "Then that's a problem," he said,
turning his head. The sun reflected off his glasses and into my
eyes.
    The next argument was about how he
felt that I "didn't have a passion."
    "Oh shit, not that again,"
I groaned, pushing myself off the curb. "Why, why do you think that I have no
passion? I tell you everything. Every
little thing that makes me happy, that
annoys me, that passes through my
mind I tell you. I told you my dream to
visit a new country a year, and I wanted to do that with you . And you still
think I'm not passionate about anything?"
    "Do you realize how much
that costs, Ellie? I know you don't make that much. It bothers me that you're
not thinking about your career, and you don't think about your
savings too."
    "I make enough! You're worse than my
mother."
    He did promise no fighting, but
ironically, his calm manner was more grating to me than if he had
been screaming. While accusing me of being passionless, Don was
being exactly that. I felt angry, my heart was pounding, I was
ready to fight for us, but he was just there, calmly telling me the
things I was doing wrong. I wanted him to at least look regretful,
if he wasn't going to shout.
    "Whining isn't passion," he
said, still deadpan. "It just surprised me to discover that you
complain all the time . You weren't like this when we were friends. "
    That was another card he
liked to use – "when we were friends." It was like the months that
we were in the same barkada – but not dating – was some sort of magical period
that he wanted to go back to. "When we were friends," according to
him, I was fun, spontaneous, independent, interesting.
    "When we were friends," I argued, I
did not care about him at all. Didn't want to hang out with him
alone, didn't care if he got home safe at night, didn't want to
share my hopes and dreams with him.
    "That's another problem,"
Don said, jumping to the third argument before