After 49 Times, I Dumped Him

For five years, I played the part of the perfect girlfriend. The small-town girl from Idaho who adored her brilliant project director boyfriend, Ralph.

I hid my family’s hotel empire to protect his fragile ego.

He repaid me by canceling our wedding forty-nine times—always for his assistant Olivia.

The forty-ninth time he ditched me, I smiled and said it was fine.

He promised to bring my favorite clam chowder as an apology.

He forgot I was deathly allergic.

That's when I decided to delete him from my life.

Now he's begging for another chance, saying he can't live without me.

Too bad. I'm not the woman he abandoned at the courthouse.

This time, I'm the one watching him break.

————————

1

Today was marriage attempt number forty-nine with Ralph.

We were outside the King County Courthouse in Seattle.

I stood in the drizzle, a migraine pounding behind my eyes, but Ralph didn’t even look at me. He was in the car, on the phone, soothing his new junior assistant, Olivia.

“Don’t panic, I’m on my way.”

On the other end of my own phone, my parents could only sigh.

“Seriously? Again? Does he even care about you, honey?”

Everyone knew how badly I wanted this one to stick.

But right before our appointment, he bolted. Again. I chased him to his car, but he stopped me before I could get in.

“Olivia formatted the hard drive. The final renders are gone. I have to go salvage it. We’ll reschedule. Next time, I swear.”

Then he jumped in his car and sped off.

Five years. Forty-nine canceled marriage registrations.

Every single time, it was because of her.

I used to scream, demand answers, even beg him to stay.

This time, I just smiled. “It’s fine. I’m sure Olivia can’t wait.”

He blinked, thrown by my reaction. “Right. Hey, I’ll bring you some clam chowder from Pike Place Chowder tonight.”

I nodded. He rolled up the window and was gone.

My smile vanished the second he was out of sight.

I hate clams. I’m allergic to shellfish.

He knew that. I’d told him the first time he suggested it. I tried to be polite, just saying I wasn’t a fan, before admitting it would land me in the ER. He’d even made a note of it in his phone, promising he’d never forget.

Year after year, he never remembered.

The rain was cold, but my heart was ice. I let out a sharp, humorless laugh, got back in my car, and drove off.

Back at our apartment in Capitol Hill, I opened my laptop and deleted the virtual home we had designed together.

It was time to delete the last five years, too.