He kept staring at the hills across the valley, just looking off into the distance as though he were the one getting the abortion, not me.
Oh, whoops, did I spoil it by saying “abortion” instead of hinting at it for twenty fucking minutes but never saying it outright so that you could wonder, “Wow, what is this ‘operation’ that they keep talking about? It’s so mysterious!” It’s an abortion, folks. That’s what we were talking about, except that I knew if I said the actual word to him he’d fucking freak his shit, but, like, not tell me so directly. Instead he’d say something about how cold his beer was, and I’d be like, “Is that some sort of veiled reference to my pregnancy?” and he’d be like, “Were those clouds there a moment ago?”
To be honest, he was more upset about the whole thing than I was. I’d had plenty of friends get abortions, and I told him as much, to which he replied by mansplaining the procedure to me. Oh, okay, thank you for informing me about my own goddamn body. I wasn’t aware of how abortions worked, but please, tell me about it since you’ve never had one and never will. Christ.
Anyway, I could see he was freaking out because he started talking more than normal, so I was just like, “Blah blah, I’ll do it for you. I just want you to be happy. I don’t care about me, yadda yadda.” Guys love that shit, especially guys who are always staring into the middle distance and wanting to talk about the hills and the valley, and who call beer cerveza because they think it’s more “authentic” to call it that when you’re in Spain even though everyone there knows what you mean when you say “beer.” Despite all that, he still wouldn’t stop talking, even when I asked him to please please please please please please please stop talking, because guys like that are literal fucking babies who are apparently only soothed by the sound of their own fucking voices spouting bullshit.
So, long story short, I got the abortion, which is just as well since we didn’t end up staying together after that anyway because I honestly couldn’t take it anymore with his constant fucking brooding. When we broke up, he was like, “Before I go, wanna hear a sad story I wrote that’s only six words long?” And I was like, “You know, actually, I think I’ll pass,” which I know hurt his feelings but whatever. There’s no pleasing guys like him.