“We need to talk.”
That is the instant message that Julie sent me less than two weeks after we started dating in September of 2005. Upon reading this, my stomach sunk. I hadn’t been in too many relationships before this one, but I knew what this meant. Television had taught me that much. She was breaking up with me. I was upset, not only because I really liked this girl, but also because I had grossly misjudged Julie’s feelings about me. I thought the relationship was going well. I was having a great time and we were seeing each other every day. But it had come to this. We met up and I resigned myself to what was to come.
She was acting strange and a little nervous. We walked a bit and I was just hoping she would get to it instead of dragging it out. Just rip the band-aid off. Finally, she said, “I’ve got something to tell you.” I took a breath and prepared myself for what was to come.
“I have mono.”
My reaction was probably not the best.
“Oh thank God!”
It turns out, I was nervous she was breaking up with me, and she was nervous that she may have given me a communicable disease. In the end, she agreed that “We need to talk” was not the phrase she should have used and I agreed that, in the future, I should not take as much pleasure in her illness.
She was sick and lethargic the whole semester, which included a trip to the ER and a dose of Vicodin (another fun story!). I never got so much as a sniffle.
But at least we have a story to tell.