She didn’t. She just stared at me. Then she reached into her pocket and tossed a folded note onto my desk.

I wanted to crumple it into a ball and throw it right at her face like I should have done yesterday, but I opened it instead and read:

Dear Carter,

I am sorry that I made you act bad and break Miss Carpenter’s pens yesterday, but I am not sorry that I HATE you. You are ugly and you talk way too much. That’s why I always get you in trouble because you can’t shut up and you think you know everything BUT YOU DON’T! I really wish you will get hit by a bus one day soon because you suck. You suck A LOT.

Not Sincerely,

Arizona

We became best friends that very day…

Track 1. Blank Space (3:47)

Present Day

The sex just isn’t enough anymore…

I shook my head as my current girlfriend, Emily, ran in circles around me on the beach. Dressed in a bright red bikini, she smiled as she splashed me, garnering the jealous attention of other guys nearby. Every so often, when I smiled back at her, she would untie the camera from her wrist and stand next to me—holding it high above us while yelling, “Selfie time! Cutest Couple Everrr!”

To be honest, everything about this woman was damn near perfect on the outside: She was stunningly beautiful with light green eyes and full soft lips; she had an infectious laugh that could make the most sullen person smile, and her sense of humor was pretty similar to mine. She had a naturally bubbly personality that could make any stranger believe she was a best friend at a first encounter, and behind closed doors, her desire for sex was almost as high as mine.

That’s where her nice qualities ended though, and I unfortunately found that out much too late.

A few months after we started to date seriously, her true character began to show: First, I found out that her naturally bubbly personality wasn’t “natural” at all; it was a side effect of the illegal Adderall she often abused and overdosed. Second, was her habit of texting me every hour on the hour with “I miss you, baby. Where are you?” whenever we weren’t together. If I didn’t answer her in three minutes or less, she would text me repeatedly: “Are you dead? ARE. YOU. DEAD?!” And lastly, the reason I was definitely ending this relationship sooner than later, was her new and weird-ass sex fetish: She liked to crawl around the room on all fours and purr like a kitten before and after sex. She even “meowed” when she came.

Some shit I just couldn’t handle for the long term…

“Hey, you!” Emily splashed me, knocking me out of my thoughts. “What are you over there thinking about?”

“A lot of things…” I admitted.

“That’s why I like you, Carter.” She smiled. “You’re always in deep thought, thinking about deep things…” She held the camera above us. “Deep-thought selfie!”

“Right…” I waited until she’d snapped the photo. “Are you ready to head back yet?”

“Almost! Give me five minutes. I want to wade farther out and feel the waves against my chest one last time.”

I nodded and watched her slip into the ocean—beckoning me to join her, but I simply forced a smile and stayed back. I was still thinking, still wondering why I could never get past the six month mark with any woman I dated—why I could never find enough strength to stick around another second.

“Okay!” Emily met me on the shore. “I’m ready to head back now if you are, Carter. I know what’s really on your mind…” She pressed her hand against my crotch. “Meow…”

Jesus…

I moved her hand away and clasped it, leading her back toward my place.

“What do you think about going to the Everglades tomorrow?” she asked.

“I think we should talk about that tomorrow...We actually have a lot to talk about.”

“A” She squeezed my hand. “It sounds like you’re finally going to let me inside and tell me all your deep, dark secrets…”

“I don’t have any deep, dark secrets.”

“Well, whatever you want to talk about tomorrow, can we not talk about it at Gayle’s?”

“What?” I looked over at her and raised my eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because, although I know you love the food there and I do, too, I hate that place. Like, being there, you know?”

“Not really…”

“I just feel like it’s not our own ‘couple spot’, you know? Every couple needs their own “OMG this is our spot” type of place. Speaking of which, I was thinking we need to post more pictures of us together on Facebook. I’ll be posting what we took today on tomorrow. What do you think of the caption: “OMG my boyfriend took me on a surprise trip to the beach? Hashtag, he loves me, hashtag, don’t be jealous, hashtag, he always spends money on me.”

“The beach is free…”

She ignored my comment and continued babbling, eventually transitioning from our social media profiles to how badly she wanted to ride me tonight, but the second we got back to my place, she collapsed onto my bed and fell asleep.

Relieved, I took a beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter. I needed to think tomorrow’s break-up through. I needed it to be short, swift, and to the point.

“It’s not you, it’s me…” “I’m just not sure if I’m really the man you’re looking for…” “Okay, look. It’s that weird-ass cat shit you do...” No, no…I need to be diplomatic about this… Hmmm…

I googled, “Top Ten Best Ways to Break Up with Someone,” but the browser crashed and a phone call came through instead. My best friend, Arizona.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Meowwww….” she whispered. “Meowww…Meow!”

“Fuck you, Ari.”

She laughed. “Are you busy right now? Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all.” I stepped into my room and tapped the wall to see if Emily would wake up. “I just got back from the beach. Emily passed out as soon as we got back.”

“Did she eat too much catnip? That happens to me all the time.”

“Is there a point to this goddamn phone call, Ari?”

“There is.” She laughed. “There is.”

“Care to share it before I hang up on you?”

“Yeah…I think I finally want to have sex with Scott tonight.”

“Okay. Then go finally have sex with Scott tonight.”

“No, no, no…” Her tone was more serious now. “I’m just not sure if I should or not, you know? I’m getting some vibes…”

“What kind of vibes?”

“That it’s not a good idea, that it’s not the right time.”

I sighed. Arizona always needed to host an internal examination session whenever she was considering sleeping with a guy. Everything had to be measured in terms of risks and returns, down to “the intensity of the kisses,” “the average length and quality of the dates,” and “the long-term relationship factor.” Even though she denied it, I knew she kept a spreadsheet on her phone to track all of those ridiculous factors, and that she started a new one each time she dated someone.