I had been dating a guy for about two or three months and things had been going amazing. Everything just happened so seamlessly, and naturally, which usually is a sign of good things to come and long-lasting fortitude in a relationship.
Two weeks in, we had even booked a trip together, a road-trip down the West Coast, from Seattle to San Fran over ten days – and he was paying for everything. It seemed like I had struck gold! All the way up to the last day of the trip. Ah, San Francisco, how bitter sweet you are. Long story short (and trust me this is the part of the story not worth telling), egos were bruised, feelings were hurt, and sexual frustrations were at an all-time high; all which led to the eventual, yet sudden, demise of our relationship – a relationship once considered to be plated- in-gold. San Francisco was a city of tears, screaming, too much whiskey, more tears, and eventually a somewhat civil reconciliation – after all we still had an entire day left together there, and an eight-hour journey home; but believe me, I was in complete distress. Cut to two weeks later, and the fighting (over the same issues) had only peaked, and made its way into writing via Facebook (I hate Facebook). While away I had generously offered to contribute $400 towards a rental car expense we had not originally foreseen. Actually to be more specific, he hadn’t brought his credit card with him, therefore we couldn’t take the convertible off the lot as it was company policy that all high-end/luxury vehicles were to be relinquished to credit cards only. Who doesn’t bring their credit card away with them?? I never use my credit card for anything, and I had mine with me. You always bring it when traveling, it’s simply common sense. We found another car, which was $400 more that the original, hence my gracious offer. I mean he had paid for the whole trip, it was the least I could do. Cut back to fighting via Facebook (did I mention that I hate Facebook?), words were said, lies were revealed, excuses were made, and I had just had enough. I kindly told him to stick-it-where-the-sun-don’t-shine and that he could forget about the $400 I had promised him (I prefer “offered”…) because he wasn’t going to get it. Two weeks later, I’m standing in line at Dunkin’ Donuts, peacefully awaiting my usual, and I get a phone call from my mother. “Darling, I just received a letter in the mail addressed to you from Small Claims Court… it appears you are being sued for $400.” Guess who called the bank the very next day and ordered 40,000 pennies? Turns out the relationship was, in fact, not made of gold, but copper – lots and lots of copper.