The Betrayal That Broke Us

During a dinner with my boyfriend's buddies, I accidentally noticed that Robin Wright, his female friend, wasn't wearing a bra—her n*****s clearly visible. As I was hesitating whether to remind her of that, Jason Walker, my boyfriend, snatched my bag with a dark look and hauled her outside. When they returned after some arguing, she'd already put on pasties. "So what if I forgot? I'm just liberating my natural state and giving my little boobs some freedom. You're so old-fashioned, Jason, you jerk!" Robin grabbed Jason's hand and shoved it against her chest. "They're practically inverted and not even as big as yours. Why would I need pasties?" Jason scowled. "Shut up and keep them on." I checked my bag. Sure enough, my spare pasties were gone. Jason realized something. "Let Robin use yours. I'll buy you new ones." I smiled, then ripped off my own pasties. "No. I want them now." The pasties hit the floor with a slap. The private room went dead silent, as if someone had hit mute. No one knew whether to keep looking or close their eyes. Jason frowned, never expecting me, his usually conservative girlfriend, to act so boldly. "Two pasties. Is it really worth making a scene over? You get being possessive about food, but come on—a ten-dollar pair of pasties?" He didn't see a problem with his actions, just figured I was being stingy. Robin patted Jason's shoulder, reached into her shirt, and handed me the pasties. "Here you go. Jason's being ridiculous. I honestly didn't care, but he insisted on standing guard outside the bathroom door and wouldn't let me leave until I put them on." "Turn around!" Jason barked at the guys. He immediately stripped off his shirt to wrap around Robin. "For God's sake, can't you act like a normal woman?" Robin pouted. "What's 'normal' supposed to look like?" After glancing at me, she clicked her tongue as if she'd touched something dirty. "If that's it, just treat me as a guy." Jason's face was filled with protective and possessive instincts toward other women. Suddenly, I felt utterly fed up. I grabbed Jason's bag from the couch and dumped its contents onto the floor. Clattering, the allergy meds, mini fan, and tampons he'd packed for Robin spilled out. But just today, I'd reminded him repeatedly to bring me cold medicine, which he still hadn't remembered. "With a memory as bad as yours, you can hardly be considered a normal woman. Go get yourself checked, you'll likely develop dementia in old age." I stuffed the n****e covers into Jason's bag, hurled it at his face, and turned to leave. "I don't want things other people have used. They're dirty. Here, take them as a gift. From now on, take them out of your bag for her. Don't touch mine." From today onward, Jason's bag would probably have one more item: n****e covers. At the entrance, Jason caught up and grabbed my arm. "What are you even mad about? You know how Robin is—scatterbrained and careless with everything." When I stayed silent, he softened his tone. "I won't use yours next time. I'll get her own." Even now, Jason still had no clue why I was angry. "Come on," he said. "It's the last singles' night before we tie the knot. Do me a favor, okay?"