Much Too Young

You know what, Gene? He has now pushed me to my limit! Yeah, it’s not the first time you've heard it. But it is the last!

This whole thing has become just ridiculous!

It’s our anniversary, for fuck's sake! Our 20th anniversary! Twenty years – arguably the best years of my life – with this old fart!

You wouldn’t believe it, but there was a time he brought me flowers every week. And date nights weren't some once-in-a-blue-moon occasions. We often went to the movies, restaurants, concerts and did all kinds of fun stuff. He'd take me for a walk and an ice cream on a random Wednesday.

Yes, the very same Bob that is now squatting on the sofa downstairs, eyes glued to the telly, staring at whatever is on, ignoring me. You probably haven’t seen him leaving that spot unless nature calls. Hot, right?

The last time we went out together was probably a decade ago, and it was, no doubt, my idea.

Remember the huffing, puffing, and eye-rolling a few weeks ago when my sister invited us dancing? And it wasn’t like we wanted to go to a fucking rave in some nightclub. It was a little gathering at the community center. But did we go? Hah, of course not!

Or a couple of months before that when Jack and Susan wanted to try that new sushi restaurant in town. They had planned a whole double date for us! Do you remember us going? No!

Oh, and the excuse he had! With an actually straight fucking face, he said he didn't want the cottage pie leftovers to go to waste, so we better stay in and make sure they get eaten. Seriously, you can’t make this shit up!

Or when the Millers invited us to play minigolf. Judging by his expression, you’d think he'd at least been asked to do a naked backflip through a burning hoop in the middle of town square.

Today was the final straw. If the last two decades of our lives aren’t worth celebrating with something better than last night’s stew and fucking lukewarm tap water, then he can eat those for the rest of his days!

My hair is turning grey before my eyes, wrinkles are showing up in places they shouldn’t – not yet, at least! My hobbies have changed from dancing and hiking to knitting and watching fucking antiquing shows every weekend. No more!

If he doesn’t want to do things with me, someone else will! Honestly, even doing all of this on my own is better than feeling lonely with him! My life shouldn’t look and feel like a damn 65-year-old’s at the age of forty-two! My life is not over yet! If he wants to, his can be. Not a single fuck given! But not mine! Maybe not my face, but my heart and soul are much too young to feel this damn old!

Ah, what do you know, Gene? You’re a cat!

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Notes:

This story was created in response to L.C. Schäfer's September challenge.

I chose the trickier version and, in addition to the other requirements, wrote exactly 500 words (according to Vocal's word counter) without using the personal pronoun I.