Advice

Advice

I overheard this older guy at a bar one time say, "If your girlfriend calls you and says 'we need to talk', you're walking into a trap. Remember that." And that's where I am right now, sitting inside my car, gathering the courage to enter my girlfriend's apartment and get dumped. It would hurt, but when doesn't it hurt?


I trudged up the stairs to her Queens' brownstone and knocked. Traci opened the door and let me in without speaking. Inside was always neat, but when I stepped into the living room, her two best friends, Lakesha and Rosario, stood with looks of disgust.


This wasn't going to be good.


I took a seat then said, "What's going on, ladies?"


Traci started. "It's over between us." I knew it. She continued. "I can't be around you anymore. I just don't like you."


Then Lakesha jumped in. "You're a cheap bastard. You don't buy her shit."


I answered, "How much do you think I make?" Rosario just crossed her arms. I knew I'd lost. No need to argue, so I said. "Okay, I understand. It's been rough between us the last few months. Tell you what. I'll block you on social media and my phone so we'll never have contact again. Wait, I'll just change my phone number, and you or your friends will never know it."


I stood up, then said, "Goodbye, ladies. You helped me with my own decision."


"What decision?" Traci asked smartly.


"About what to do with my lottery winnings. I've held onto a ten million dollar ticket for a couple of months. Thought about giving you some, Traci, but not now."


Before I reached the door, Traci clutched my arm. "Really?"


I turned and said, "Excuse me, ma'am. I don't know you?"


Then I left.