I knew that he was never coming back.
I knew it because he left 2 days before Valentine's Day. He wouldn't have done that because it was our favorite day of the year. Nobody knew how to celebrate quite like me. He waited for it all year long. The romantic meal, the sexy lingerie, the elaborate gifts, and of course his favorite part: his sexual fantasies come true. I always let him do anything he wanted to me. I always did anything he wanted.
We met right out of high-school. We were the new food servers at a large diner. He had actually been there a few months longer than me. He was the first face I saw when I walked in to that restaurant. He immediately struck me as a cocky womanizer. Very "built", extremely good-looking, stylish hair. He carried himself as though he had been around a few times.
"Hi. I'm Alex. Are you the new waitress?" Strangely enough, his voice actually sounded nervous.
"Yes. Hi, I'm Megan," I answered politely.
"We'll be getting to know each other very well, I think." His voice sounded fake. As though he were trying to sound tough.
"No, I don't think so." I answered and pushed past him.
Things continued on like that for the next few months. Him hitting on me and me shooting him down. When he finally stopped hitting on me, I actually felt sad. Sometimes the best way for a guy to land the woman he's after is to lose interest.
One date was all it took for me. I think I fell in love with him that first time. He was sweet and smart and attentive. He was nervous and shy at the same time. I quickly realized that he had no experience with women.
Valentine's Day arrived after we had been dating a couple months. I started our Valentine's Day traditions that first year. I also took his virginity.
We saw each other every day after that. Every day for four years. We were in love. It was my first real relationship. I had dated but never anything this serious. We moved in together. That was when things started changing.
We started fighting. When you live together, you find things to fight over. Money, getting married, careers, neglect. Pick a topic. Occasionally when we would fight he would storm off and spend the night at his friend's house. He would always come back. He was always the first to apologize.
Two days before Valentine's Day we had a fight. It was a bad one. I just couldn't get past his reluctance to marry me.
"Your family loves me. My family loves you. We love each other. What are you waiting for?!" I shouted.
"I hate feeling pushed! I don't understand the rush!" He countered.
"Rush?! What rush?! We have been together for over four years! It stopped being 'rushed' three years ago!" I shot back.
"Every time you bring this up it pushes our wedding date further and further away. I don't want to ask you when we just fought about it the night before!" He shouted.
"So I'm just supposed to wait and be content that you might ask me someday? If we don't have a future I need to know now. I have already wasted years of my time," I said.
"Wasted?!"
It went on and on until we finally called it quits and he left. Just 2 days before Valentine's Day.
And I knew this time he wasn't coming back. He would wait until I was at work and he would retrieve his belongings. No fight. No arguing over who bought this CD or who paid for the dog. Just cold silence.
Over the next couple of days I couldn't sleep. I just cried. I cried in the bath and driving to work. I even cried brushing my teeth.
On Valentine's Day I reached the point where I couldn't cry anymore. I was in a state of resolve. I would be alone for the rest of my life. Maybe I would be a lesbian.
I walked through the house and looked at the lingerie I had bought a month ago for Alex. The bottles of Asti were chilling in the fridge.
That's when I decided to celebrate by myself. I put on the sexy lingerie and looked at myself in the mirror. I had to admit I looked good. Black lace pushed my large breasts up so that the pink nipples stood up proudly. I felt sexy. The lace near the crotch tickled my newly waxed pussy. Alex would have loved this lacy, crotch less get-up.
I poured myself glass after glass of Asti and enjoyed the way it went straight to my head. After finishing a couple bottles I was ready to walk outside and have sex with the first man(or woman) I ran into. Who could resist a sexy, drunk woman?
I grabbed a fresh bottle and went outside, putting nothing over my exposed nipples.
The cold air hit my breasts, causing my nipples to pucker. I looked around for anybody but all I could see was darkness. A block away there was a street light. I thought I saw something move near it. I squinted hard and as my eyes adjusted I saw a dark figure leaning against the street light.
