Love Flows Deep Into the Years

I’ve been in love with Max Carter for six years.

He gave me a ring and said we’d meet his parents this weekend.

"Here, take this and go get a haircut. My mom likes girls with short hair."

That weekend, I wore the simple ring he gave me and waited all day at the salon, but Max never showed up.

Later, I checked my phone and saw a post from his cycling partner.

[Someone ditched meeting his parents just to make my winter cycling dream come true. Guess who’s getting punished tonight!]

Normally, I’d be furious and call him a dozen times to demand answers.

But this time, I was too exhausted.

——

It was a cold December day, the kind where the rain feels like ice and I was standing outside a closed salon, waiting for Max.

Today was supposed to be the day I finally met his parents.

Last night, Max had told me his mom liked short-haired girls, so I reluctantly went to the address he gave me and cut off the long hair I had grown out for three years.

He said he’d go buy a gift and pick me up before lunch.

I waited.

And waited.

Six hours went by and I called him eight times. He didn’t answer once.

My phone was down to 1% battery when I saw a post from his cycling friend, Jane. It was a selfie of her and Max, all smiles, making hand signs together.

[Someone ditched meeting his parents just to make my winter cycling dream come true. Guess who’s getting punished tonight!]

Ditched the meeting?

Max said he’d postpone meeting his parents, but did he even bother telling me?

I cut off my hair to please him, to impress his parents. But he abandoned me, on what was supposed to be an important day.

Then my phone buzzed.

It was Max, probably remembering me at last.

"Where are you?" he said casually, "Oh, forgot about meeting the parents, right? Perfect timing—Jane and I are cycling at Quentin Lake. We’ll meet them some other day."

There was no apology, no remorse—just a statement, as if he were merely informing me of a change in plans.

Quentin Lake, of course.

How could Max leave Jane for me?

Max and I had been college sweethearts, dating on and off for six years. We were so close to marriage, yet here I was, abandoned again, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on me.

Recently, Max had become obsessed with cycling and joined an online cycling community. That’s where he met Jane, a yoga instructor. Ever since he met her, Max seemed to forget about me altogether.

He’d spend hours chatting with her in the group but couldn’t be bothered to reply to my texts. He told me I was "too much" and that my concerns were pointless.

But he remembered every detail about Jane. He knew when her time of the month was and would remind her to take it easy, even bringing her soup.

Meanwhile, he forgot mine. And when I cried from the pain, all he could say was, "Women are so dramatic."

So today, he’d skipped meeting his parents for Jane’s winter cycling dream, leaving me behind once again.

I stood in the freezing rain, staring at my phone while cheerful music played on Max’s end of the line.

Suddenly, Max seemed so... boring.

"Max," I said quietly, "did you forget I’ve been waiting for you all day at the barber shop?"

"I’ve waited for you so many times before. I’m not even mad this time—just tired."

Max didn’t care. He scoffed, sounding annoyed, "What’s the big deal? I’ve waited for you before too. We’re even now. This was just an accident—I’ll take you to meet them next time."

Next time.

I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

It’s true, Max had waited for me before. Once, after months of begging him to take me cycling, he finally agreed. I was so excited I jumped for joy and ordered a cute cycling outfit online.

But on the day of the ride, I stopped for ten minutes to grab breakfast and he left without me.

There was always a "next time" with Max.

I wanted to go to Disneyland. He said next time.

I wanted to try a popular escape room game. He said it was too expensive, so we’d do it next time.

I craved crab roe buns from the north side of town. He said we’d get them next time we passed by.

I was always waiting.

And Max was always pushing me aside.

Now, standing in the rain, miles from home, with no umbrella or taxi in sight, I made up my mind.

"Max," I said softly, "let’s break up."