"You always look nice when you're talking," Phillip said. "It's just sometimes, the content, it's not optimal... you’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His words were sharp.

I stared at him, disgusted with myself. Absolutely disgusted that I was somehow in this situation. In a relationship with someone who spoke to me like this, who felt this way about me. I had been an idiot to think that this relationship had been based upon any sort of deep connection. He had been putting up with my personality, because apparently the way I looked had made it tolerable. To a point, at least. And on my end? I had thought he was my best friend.

He didn't let me charge my phone before I left, so I sat on the L Train for forty minutes, mentally reviewing all of my shortcomings that had caused our relationship to come to an end. I was self-involved, of course, intolerable to be around, superficial, judgmental, and what else? I'm sure there was more. 

Nikki, age 24

* This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.