I once dated a guy, and for a while, everything seemed fine. He was kind, funny, and we got along well. But there was something I didn’t know about him—he drank. That's not something he did often, or at least not while we were together so I never had any reason to be suspicious. Until one night, everything changed.
We went to dinner, a simple night on the town. The evening started off nice; we ate, laughed, and talked about everything. Then, he ordered a drink. I didn't really mind at first, but one beer led to another, then another, and the next thing I know he's ordering shots. I tried to tell him to slow down, but he just laughed it off, saying he could handle it.
I started to feel uneasy, but I didn’t want to spoil the night, so I let it slide. After a while, though, I noticed that his behavior was getting more and more erratic. He was talking too loud and sluring his words and attracting the attention of everyone else around us. I felt embarrassed, but I didn’t know what to do. I had never seen him like this before.
Then, things took a turn for the worse. He randomly stood up from the table and danced in the middle of the restaraunt. People just stared at first, not knowing what was happening, but then a few started laughing and whipping out their phones to video tape the guy. I was mortified. This wasn’t the guy I knew. He was making a complete fool of himself, and by association, of me too.
I tried to get him to sit back down, but he wasn’t having it. He was in his drunken daze and none of what I said reached him. I could feel my face burning with shame, and I knew I had to do something. I did not want to make a scene or anything, but I could not sit there and be a part of all that.
So, I did the only thing I could think of—I left. So I just picked up my stuff, and told the waiter some kind of excuse and just left the restaurant. I didn’t even look back. I didn’t care what people thought; I just needed to get out of there. I was so upset and embarrassed that I couldn’t stand being there for another minute.
As I walked away, I felt a mix of emotions. One part of me was enraged, enraged that he sent me there, enraged that he couldn't keep himself in check. Another part of me was scared. What if something happened to him? But in the bottom of my heart, I knew I could not be accountable for his actions. I didn't enter this world to bleed for someone else's misinterpretation.
So I went home that night completely worn out, physically and emotionally. I just couldn't get with a guy that treated people like that. I mean, I didn't get in trouble, but the whole experience was so much that I can promise that I will never have to do anything like that ever again.
I don’t wish to repeat that night. That was a big eye opener for me, I deserve so much better. It has also taught me the important lesson of learning where to draw the line and when to call it quits, as hard as that may be. Life is too short to be caught up in someone else’s mess, and I’m determined to never let that happen again.
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