Writing Exercise: The Break-Up

[StillStunned]

Most of us have been through it, I reckon. Maybe the dumper, maybe the dumpee, maybe both. Sometimes it's a casual wave and adios. Sometimes it's a life-shattering event. Sometimes you come to regret it. Sometimes it comes back to haunt you. Sometimes it never goes away.

So let's write about break-ups. The good, the bad, the messy. Hot break-up sex, angry break-up fights, furtive break-up escapes in the dead of night. When you lose the love of your life, or you find the courage to step away from something that's destroying you. The ones that leave you a wreck and the ones that come as a relief.

Usual rules apply. Try to stick to about 350 words, give or take a margin. Don't write anything that wouldn't make it through Lit's publication process: no underage, no bestiality, no snuff, no religion or politics. Don't use AI.

 

[StillStunned]

Six years ago it was, six years to the day on this very spot, this promenade by the seafront. He still had the pictures on his phone, was tempted to go through them to see what had changed. He didn’t remember the blue kiosk, and he recalled the hotel across the wide avenue being called something else.

No matter though. It was here, six years ago tonight, when she told him it wasn’t working. She wasn’t feeling it anymore, or she was, but it was stifling her, or something. She hadn’t been very coherent, or he hadn’t been listening carefully, not after the first few words when her meaning became clear. Then it was like his head was a balloon, swelling up with each new word, trying to hold them all so that he didn’t have to process them, but slowly they sank in, like lead in his chest and then his gut.

Looking back he couldn’t really blame her. Looking back he could see she’d tried to talk to him, warn him of where they were headed. Maybe they could have steered away then, or maybe he hadn’t wanted to. Maybe he knew where they were headed and was quite happy for her to be the one who made the decision.

Even so, it had hurt. Hurt so much, the numbing kind of hurt that doesn’t ever go away, not until it swallows up your entire being. There had been the practicalities to sort out, of course. She moved in with her sister, so she had to box up her stuff and move it. He had to tell everyone and deal with the questions, the sympathy, the encouragement. He had to get rid of all the contacts on her side of their relationship.

Except he never got rid of her number. There it was, on his screen, just one tap away from connecting him to her. Was she thinking about him? Six years ago to the day. Did she even remember?

 

[Bamagan]

"It's for the best," Ai Nakamura said as she checked the knots one last time. Her ex-boyfriend's words were distorted by the panties she'd wadded up and duct-taped inside his mouth, but she was pretty sure he was calling her a crazy bitch. "That's as may be," she added with a shrug as she stood up. "Personally, I think you're the crazy one, bringing a whore to my home and fucking her in my bed."

Ai walked slowly and carefully across the icy surface of the river, headed back to the nearest bank, ignoring the muffled cries of the bound man she'd left behind. She shook her head, still in disbelief at his temerity. Even worse than his infidelity, he'd tried to claim the prostitute had been intended as a gift for their anniversary, and he'd just gotten overeager. "The eager beaver gets the worms," she declared, stepping onto the snowy ground and turning to look at her ex-lover again.

In the distance, echoing booms and cracking noises heralded the break-up, when winter's frozen grip on the river finally faltered. It took nearly another twenty minutes for the cascade of pressure to shatter the ice in front of Ai, dumping her ex into the almost freezing water. "I'm really just working on me right now," she stated as an epitaph, before beginning the long trudge back home.

 

[Bazzle]

She marched me to our spot.

I thought it was another romantic walk.

Six months ago she had sat on the bench, held her panties in her hand as she spread her legs, smiled and pulled me close. At 2 in the morning we had sex in the local park. Twice.

We had even had sex that morning. She had straddled me, passion had been high as she kissed me and told me that she loved me.

But after lunch on our walk we sat on our bench hand in hand. A tear rolled down her cheek.

I was confused. "What's a matter?"

"Its over between us."

"What?"

it was out of the blue, yes l was older than her, yes I was graduating that year, but it didn't matter.

I was the one in tears. I stormed off, my emotions running high.

A month later she was with someone in her year. Looked like me, but her age. I'm not bitter.

Much.

 

[yowser]

Derek steeled himself for the conversation. Long, long overdue, he had been postponing the event for weeks. Yet no time had ever felt suitable.

"Alison, we need to..."

Before he even finished his sentence her eyes went wide, just as he feared, and a sad and pleading look crossed her freckled face, the face that had enchanted him so fiercely when they first had met at the music festival those years ago.

"Derek, I know what you are going to say. I promise that things will be better, just that right now..."

Derek waved a hand. There was no room for turning back.

"It's not working out."

Her face grew frantic, she brushed a strand of her dark hair behind an ear. Derek had noted how she made this gesture any time emotions had grown too great to handle.

"We argue all the time," he continued. "At least twice a day."

The accusation arrived sharp and stabbing in the airless confines of Alison's small kitchen.

"I maintain twice a day isn't much at all," she said, a defensive edge to her words. "For my family that's an Armistice."

"And for mine it's non-stop sniper action.” He was determined. “Look Alison, we are both high-energy people. When the music's great, it's superb. But when one or both of us is off-note, it's ugly. Plain and simple. And it's been ugly lots lately. Not sustainable, Alison, I'm sorry. I'm moving out."

Her face crumpled, her eyes grew damp.

“No, please don't Derek! I am sure we can work things out. I have great faith our life can get better. Great faith in you. Can’t you have the same for me?"

"Nope. We're done." Derek's face was unyielding..

She abruptly seized him in a too tight tug. He noted for the hundredth time the unique and softly comforting smell of her hair. The feel of her hair down below flooded his sensory memories at the same time, that thick curl-infused thicket that rustled so nicely against his own groin when their communications became horizontal, something even Derek conceded they did very well. How deeply he would miss this part of their life together.

"Derek, Derek. Do you know what I will miss most of all?" Her sobs tore into him. What would she say? Their moonlight walks? Those special moments at the beach at Lake Whoopapaug? She gripped him tightly.

"The crème brulée you make. I’ve never had better."

 

[PapaRomantic]

They sat across from each other in a booth in the cozy little restaurant. There was a heavy curtain of tension in the air between the two of them. They both knew that this was likely their make-or-break moment.

"Dalton, I don't understand this. It's one little issue! Why are you making it such a huge problem?"

His steely gray eyes glared at her as he replied, "If it's such a small issue for you, why don't you give it up, Lacey? Doesn't seem so small for you when I turn it around the other way."

She ran her hands through her long blonde hair, pulling it back from her face on one side. "It seems like such a trivial issue. It's not like I'm expecting you to enjoy it like I do. It's not hurting you at all because I want this."

He leaned against the back of the booth cushion. "It's not just that. It's more like being afraid that if I give in on this "little issue," what's it going to be next time when we have a major disagreement?"

She looked at him with her best version of pleading eyes. "That's just it, Dalton! We seem to agree on everything else! We both agree that we love each other. We both agree that we want to have kids with each other. We both agree that our sex life is amazing. But this single issue is going to split us up if we can't come to some kind of arrangement."

They stopped as their server approached their table. With a too-cherry voice, he asked, "Are you ready to order?"

This was the moment that would decide their fate.

As Dalton and Lacey stared into each other's eyes, she said softly, "We want a large Meat Feast pizza, and please add pineapple."

Enraged, Dalton slammed both fists down hard on the table. He wasn't gentle as he exited the booth as quicky as he could. Turning back to her, he yelled out, "Fucking pineapple! Enjoy your pizza by yourself!"

The server looked stunned as he asked a now-crying Lacey, "Do you still want your pizza?"

"Yes please...and could you add extra pineapple?"

 

[MK_Whimsy]

Dennis leaned against the kitchen counter, propping himself against it with one hand while resting his forehead in the other. His lover of five years, Alison, sat in a chair, her arms and legs tensely crossed. She looked dejectedly away from him, hunched over in a defensive posture.

"I'm sorry, Alison," Dennis eventually uttered, breaking the silence. "I didn't know this was causing such a problem."

"How could you not have known?" she shot back. Then she huffed. "Well, maybe it's my fault. I should have communicated better."

"I'm sorry I can't be the partner you wanted."

She turned to glare at him angrily. "Dennis, stop talking like that! That's not it! It's just... I know you like those chocolate sandwich cookies, alright?"

Dennis let out a slight chuckle. "The ones that come in the little sleeves? Yeah. I uh, I guess I do."

A tense sigh filled the room as Alison readjusted her posture. "You realize you keep leaving crumbs all over the place."

Dennis groaned. "I know, honey. It's just so hard to prevent it. Every time I bite into one, it just... breaks up."

Alison pursed her lips. "If you can't keep them from breaking up, can't you at least eat them over the sink? Or, literally anywhere else?"

After a long, awkward pause, Dennis finally relented. "I... I guess I could... get a little trash can or something, to eat them over..." He nervously, meekly fidgeted with his fingertips.

Alison's pose softened. As a single tear slid down her cheek, she looked at her partner with renewed hope in her eyes.

"C-could you?"

Dennis' smile slowly grew. "Oh, sweetie. For you, I would buy a thousand trash cans."

Tears of joy and relief streamed down Alison's face. "Oh... oh honey! I love you so much! Let's go get some ice cream!"

"Hooray!"

 

[THBGato]

These were great. I just published one at the weekend. I don't feel like writing another as it's still all a bit too raw.

 

[Soixenta]

“Is there someone else?”

“No!” His face took on a look of innocent protest.

As if I didn’t know his face, know it better than I knew my own. As if I couldn’t read his thoughts, his emotions, his lies as easily as if he spelled them out for me.

So why had I not caught the lies before? Had I not made the effort? Was I too wrapped up in my own bliss to look at him properly?

“Who?” That was only part of the question, though. “When?”

A long moment, still wide-eyed innocence, then a shrug. “My birthday. That weekend away with the family.”

My mind ran in two directions at once. His birthday – that was a little over two months ago. Two months that he’d been deceiving me. Two months…!

But then the other thought reached its conclusion. “You’ve been fucking Julie? My own sister?” That seemed to be safe bet. He’d never shown any interest in men, so that ruled out either of our brothers-in-law.

His cheeks flushed. Embarrassment – no, shame. But he was shaking his head. Unable to meet my eye. “Not Julie.”

“Then…” My mind didn’t want to think, seemed to run into a foggy wall.

“Not your sister. My own.”

 

[shelleycat1]

Looking back, it was teenage angst. Sure, the break-up was sad, but I was playing up the emotion to myself. Charlie had been my first; the first long term girlfriend; the girl I first had sex with; the one who had seemed the right one; the one who had fucked my brother (don't ask); the one who had fucked both my best friends (OK, not during our relationship).

We agreed it was never going to work, and she had someone she wanted to see. So I was feeling blue as I dropped her at a railway station, and even sadder as she walked away down the long platform, long brown hair down her back, swaying in her blue jeans with that lovely and large arse. "I'm never going to see Charlie again," I thought, with a tear.

But later, when it was just casual we met again. She told me how effective going down on a girl was and tutored me on what to do, coming easily and suppressing her noise as she lay back and I enjoyed her taste and responses.

Being an honest sort of chap, I told Janey, the girl I was currently with, what I had done. She, being very sensible, didn't make a thing of it, just acknowledging my confession. We hadn't been exclusive in so many words up to then but the confession didn't damage us. She'd had a past, and now perhaps mine balanced more in her head. That relationship stuck.

 

[onehitwanda]

"It's not working."

"What's not working?" I asked, as I reached for the next carrot that needed sectioning.

She was silent for some time. I moved the carrot into place, placed the blade of the knife, pressed...

"This," she said.

My heart froze. The knife clicked against the plastic. The clock ticked, ticked, ticked...

"Us," she added.

My breath stilled as pain lanced through me. White spots danced in my vision, my lips were numb.

"I need someone who will make my soul sing, and that's... it's just not you any more," she managed, as she started to cry.

There were the words, of course. The begging, the tears, the entreaties, the bargaining...

All futile. She took her bag and left, and didn't come home again... while I fell asleep, on my wet and ruined pillow, guarded by two concerned cats and clutching the envelope that held the design of the ring I'd so painstakingly drawn and hidden from her.

The years have opened an ocean between us; she's content, I think, as am I. I would not go back, I would not trade what I have for anything.

But that awful moment of cold, still death of self still lingers there in the shadows - and I suspect it always will.

 

[Erozetta]

They sat at the kitchen table, neither looking straight at the other. She held the warmth of a cup of coffee in her hands and he laced his fingers behind his head, exasperation on his face.

She sighed. Her fingers slipped from the cup as she forced herself to look him over. He was cute. Not handsome or terribly masculine, but soft. His lips held a tight line that made his crinkled brow seem harsher, and older, than she thought was warranted. "Do you see any other way?" she asked.

He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath before releasing it slowly. "No."

She nodded. "I thought so."

He brought his hands to the table, twisting his wedding band around his finger. He was still unable, or maybe unwilling, to meet her gaze.

"It'll be alright, Mike.” She clasped her fingers tightly around the mug. It took all she had to not reach across the table for his hand.

His chuckle made her brow furrow. "What?" she asked, her shoulders slipping back into a defensive posture.

"It really won't, Lindsey. You do this and..."

"You get to be with your kids again." She shrugged, her gaze lowering to the steaming mug in front of her. "That was the ultimatum, right? You break things off with me and you get to go home and act like nothing ever happened. Otherwise you may get weekends and every other holiday with your kids."

"Yeah, but..."

"I've seen you without your kids. There's no other choice here, Mike."

He reached across the table and she pulled her hands away again, dropping them to her lap. "Go home. You and I were always... This is a good thing. We can move forward with confidence that we never crossed any lines. We were only friends.”

“Why didn't we? Cross lines, I mean.”

Lindsey smiled and nodded toward his ring. “Powerful barriers were in place.”

She watched as he twisted the ring from his finger and let it wobble on the table. Her frown was immediate. Fuck.

"And now?"

"Roll for persuasion you bastard."

 

[Erozetta]

I sat on the porch and looked at the night sky as he gathered his things inside.

My mom and dad helped him. I could hear them laughing. I wrapped my arms around my stomach. Headphones. I should've blasted music so I couldn't hear them carrying on like the best of friends.

It was easy to pull in on myself as I watched him load up “his” stuff. It was mine, except the clothes. He watched me closely, but I said nothing.

Then he came out with my kittens. I looked at them, so small in his hands. My mom was in the doorway behind him, scowling. She'd make me put them outside. They wouldn't survive and I knew it. I had to let go.

I grabbed his shoulder. He turned and looked me in the eye.

“I'll take care of them,” he said softly.

I think that was the first thing he ever said that I believed. I let him put them in their carrier and load them into my parents’ car. I had to swallow the pain. It burned and clawed at my throat and chest, just as he had done to me hours before.

He got in the car with my parents and the tail lights disappeared around a corner. Then I released everything I'd been holding in. I went back inside and began trashing whatever he left behind. I didn't want any of it. Every article of clothing and piece of furniture had a memory attached to it. I wanted to burn the whole fucking house down.

I should've.

“It was cruel to kick him out in the middle of the night. You sent him away with nothing,” my mom said when she got back.

“I needed him gone.”

“We gave him some money. I expect you to pay me back.”

I nodded, jaw clenched as my stomach churned.

Even after she saw the deep bruises develop on my neck, waist, and wrists, and she knew why I kicked him out cruelly after midnight, she made me pay her back.

And I did. Every fucking dime.

 

[onehitwanda]

Even after she saw the deep bruises develop on my neck, waist, and wrists, and she knew why I kicked him out cruelly after midnight, she made me pay her back.

... fuck you.

 

[Erozetta]

... fuck you.

There's a reason I'm very low contact with my mom.

 

[onehitwanda]

There's a reason I'm very low contact with my mom.

I keep typing words and then deleting them

 

[Erozetta]

I keep typing words and then deleting them

I fully understand. I do that daily.

 

[FrancesScott]

Writing Exercise: The Break-Up

“Listen, Jake, it’s not you, it’s me.” Alison felt bad, like she was being gratuitously unkind. But she knew it would be even less kind to let things continue.

Jake was disconsolate. “Is it… personal hygiene? You always say I don’t shower enough.”

“Well, you can smell kind of bad, like, well, now maybe.” Regardless of the rest of the conversation, Jake really did need to do something in this area. “But no, that’s not it.”

“Then what?” It was almost a whine. Alison had to remind herself that Jake was young. He’d only just left his teen years behind him. Still the neediness was jarring.

“I… well, it just doesn’t have any future, you and me. You must realize that, right?” She was trying to be reasonable. Maybe she wasn’t doing a great job of it.

“Is it the sex? I… I’m trying to learn. I thought I was doing better. You came last time, right?”

Again the jarring neediness Alison thought. This was part of the problem. Then she had indeed cum last time, not the most satisfying of orgasms, true. But it was something and she couldn’t recall her last climax caused by anyone except herself. Her husband? Well he just seemed interested in teens on his iPad. Of course Alison had seen his screen a few times, and was it her fault if he didn’t clear his browsing history?

But thinking about her last time with Jake had gotten Alison a little… warm, maybe. A little… tingly, maybe. No! This wasn’t helpful. Whatever her needs, Jake wasn’t the answer. She had to be an adult about this.

“I… I could even try going down on you,” continued Jake. “I’m sorry I said it was weird. I… it’s complicated, OK? This is complicated.”

It was indeed reflected Alison. Their… sexual relationship… maybe that was the phrase, had commenced with her giving Jake a blow job. His lack of reciprocation had been almost as much of an issue as his inexperience and perennial focus on his own needs.

“No, that’s not going to help. This has to end, OK. What would your father think if he found out?”

“I guess you’re right, Mom,” said Jake mournfully.

Suddenly his tone brightened. “But can I keep the nude photos? For… you know…”

“Sure, son, maybe text them to me too, OK?”

 

[NotWise]

279 words.

It was too hot for us to hide under the sheets, but I was too cold to stay in bed. I sat up on the edge of the mattress and reached for the bedside lamp but chose instead to leave the room in twilight. I didn’t need lamplight to see that Angela was wrapped around Sadie like nothing would ever come between them.

Angela’s form was familiar. I stroked the soft curve over her hip, over her cheek, and between her thighs before she moved.

“Don’t,” she said. She lifted her head and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Going somewhere?”

“Been staring at the ceiling for an hour. This—what we’ve been doing—isn’t my future.” I found my boxers and my jeans on the floor among the clothes scattered across Sadie’s floor.

Angela untangled herself, and Sadie sighed and rolled away. “No?” Angela said. She smiled at Sadie before she finished her thought. “My future is right here.”

“I know that.” I stood on one foot and then the other while I pulled my pants on, and I found my shirt under Angela’s bra. “I’m not happy here, and you are.”

I sat down again to pull on my boots, and Angela sat up beside me. She kissed my ear and stroked her fingers over my chest, and I cupped my hand behind her neck.

Our kiss was soft. Her tongue, her lips—she tasted like a memory.

I didn’t need my shirt, so I stood up and slung it over my shoulder. “You can get your things when you want, but make it soon.”

Sadie barely moved. “Would you lock the door behind you?”

 

[StillStunned]

How could time go so fast, and yet so slowly? It seemed to twist around on itself, standing still and yet transporting him forward in great leaps.

He’d made his decision. He’d made it a long time ago, in fact. But now he’d made the other decision, the decision to actually do something about it. The decision to get on the tram and go to see Hetty and make it real.

Would she see it coming? How could she not? She couldn’t be so blind as to think he was happy. He wasn’t good at sharing his emotions, or his thoughts, he knew that. But surely, after so long together, she should be able to read him. Shouldn’t she?

The tram turned another corner. Another of those moments where time leaped forward without flowing. It was the longest journey of his life, it seemed, but far too short. Only one more corner before he had to get off, then walk the few minutes to Hetty’s place, up two flights of stairs, and then he’d have to talk to her.

It loomed over him. Had loomed for days now. Weeks. Months, if he was being honest. How could she not know? How had she never asked what was wrong? Whether he was alright, whether he was happy?

Had she asked? Had he brushed it off as stress from work? Probably. Not good at sharing. Even so.

His feet seemed to take giant steps over the pavement, his head floating up in the clouds, detached from his body, from the world. It didn’t seem real. But it was. And the moment was nearly there. Just up the stairs, and…

Freedom? A weight off his chest? Happiness?

She opened the door for him like she always did. He had a key, but if she was home he didn’t feel comfortable letting himself in. “There you are. Dinner is almost ready. My parents are here too. Go and be sociable.”

Time crashed into place again. Her tone, her attitude, her dismissiveness. Of course she didn’t know. How could she? He had to say something, had to do it now, not go inside, not with Alan and Livia there, couldn’t do it around them.

But she’d already turned away, leaving the door open. He stepped inside and closed it behind him. “Yes dear.”

 

[yowser]

I should just note that of the fourteen (heart-rending) break-ups, Alison achieved fission three times.

A bad couple days for Alison all around, poor girl.

 

[mrs_mackenzie]

“Tell him.”

“Look, I understand; I will, but-”

“Tell him.”

The second time he said it, his eyes were locked on mine, looking up across my body from between my legs. I could tell he was serious, and he doubled down by reaching out with two fingers and pressing them onto my clit.

“Fuck, yes-”

“Tell him.” The fingers went away and my body buzzed with frustration.

“Alright. Fine.” I twisted my shoulders so I could reach my phone. The fingers came back when I unlocked it and began a new message.

“Mm, yes,” I moaned when he upped the intensity.

“Are you typing?”

“Yes. Well, I am now.” It was difficult to know exactly what to say, particularly when my attention was being pulled away by the sensations of his very skilled fingers.

“I can’t see you typing.” The fingers paused.

“No, don’t stop. I’ll type.” I looked at the keyboard and tried a sentence.

‘I think we need to discuss the future of our relationship.’

“Oh yes, right there. Keep going.”

I deleted it.

‘I don’t think things have been right for a while and maybe it’s better if we saw other people.’

He leant forwards and replaced his fingers with his tongue. This was heavenly and I lifted my feet to put them on his back, pulling him in.

“All finished writing that text?” he asked, stopping and just letting his hot breath wash over my most sensitive spots.

“For fuck’s sake. Just let me send it later.”

He sat up. “Sorry. I have a strict policy of not giving oral to people who are in a relationship with someone else.”

“Look, alright, alright. I’m doing it.”

‘I’ve had a great time with you, but I just can’t see a path to a long-term future with you.’

His tongue was back and fuck, it felt so good. I moaned and the phone slipped from my hands, and he began sucking just the right place and-

“Did you send the message?”

I grabbed my phone again.

‘I’m breaking up with you’.

I hit send and threw my phone down.

“Done. Now make me cum.”

“My pleasure.”

 

[Lifestyle66]

Standing silently in the doorway, she watched as I stuffed the last of my clothes into the suitcase. “That’s everything,” I pointed out.

“I love you,” she replied with her eyes tearing. “I don’t want you to go.”

“You told me to leave!” I reminded her, “YOU sent the e-mail to everyone saying we’re divorcing, after knowing I had a girlfriend for months!”

“It hurt!” she replied, angrily, “I wasn’t good enough!” she sneered “and I finally lashed out telling you to leave!”

“And I am,” I said quietly.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she said, a sob in her voice. “I LOVE you!” she shouted and walked into the bedroom, taking my hand.

“But you don’t LIKE me,” I said. “You haven’t liked me for YEARS. You made it obvious, talking down to me, talking over me, as if I don’t matter.” I continued in a monotone voice, “You come home from work late, spend evenings at your computer avoiding me, sneak into bed, hoping I don’t wake to ask for sex. You’ve been doing that for YEARS to avoid me! ... I just outsourced for the sex.”

“I’m sorry!” she wailed, with the tears flowing, as she tugged on my arm. Then she pulled down her slacks, baring herself and fell back onto the bed. “Fuck me!” she insisted.

There was no passion in her attempt to rope me back into her web, only desperation.

My soon-to-be Ex was the spider, weaving her web of self-deception, wanting the perfect marriage. But after years, I now knew the truth. She despised her reliance on me, leaving ME to handle any mess of raising kids while working my own job to pay the bills. She despised ME for doing it all, as if I made her ‘dependent on a MAN!’ That was inexcusable for the feminist who had her own career.

But without me, she’d now need to handle the drudgery of her own life.

Without malice or regret, I closed the bedroom door on that part of my life, leaving her crying to possibly think of what she wasted and pushed away.