What’s the Biggest Mistake You’ve Ever Made?

Much to the internet’s chagrin, I will ask out the barista that keeps hitting on me because despite unpopular opinion, she is both age appropriate—it’s her family’s business—and I do have the interpersonal skills to recognize the difference between customer service and actual connection., Cheers everyone; I’m going to have a beer and then take a walk around my new neighborhood.

I woke up in my new apartment; I felt like I had more room to breathe. The sun was shining through the window, and I didn’t feel that familiar dread that I used to. I got dressed, just jeans and a t-shirt, and decided to go to that little cafe around the corner.

It’s the one with the wooden tables outside and the big glass windows. I thought it would be nice to have breakfast there and maybe see if the barista was working. When I walked in, the smell of fresh coffee hit me; it was warm and comforting.

I saw the barista right away. Her name tag said Amy, and she smiled at me like she always did. I stood in line, ordered my muffin and coffee, and sat down to eat.

A few minutes later, I heard a familiar voice, however. I turned around and there she was; my wife., She looked furious; her eyes were red like she’d been crying all night and her hair was messy.

People in the cafe were staring at her. My heart sank; this was going to be bad.

she yelled marching right up to me “There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” I asked trying to keep my voice calm “Amanda, what are you doing here?”

I noticed Amy glance over, her smile fading as she handed a drink to another customer.

she shouted “What am I doing here? I should be asking you that! You left me and now you’re just out here getting coffee like nothing happened!”

People were definitely staring now. I felt embarrassed and angry at the same time. I didn’t want to do this here, not in front of everyone and especially not in front of Amy.

I said trying to keep my voice low “Amanda, I’m just getting a coffee. Can we talk about this later?” she yelled her voice getting even louder “No we can’t talk about this later! You’re my husband! You’re supposed to be at home with me not here flirting with some barista like a creep!”,

I glanced at Amy who looked uncomfortable. I felt like crawling into a hole.

I said still trying to keep calm “Amanda, stop. I’m not doing this right now.” she mocked crossing her arms “Oh, you’re not doing this right now? Well too bad because I’m doing this right now! You owe me an explanation and you’re going to give it to me!”

I looked around the cafe; everyone was watching. I could feel their eyes on us, and it made my skin crawl. I just wanted to get out of there.

I said firmly “I’m not going back with you. I’m done.”

Her face twisted in anger.

she hissed “You think you’re done? You don’t get to just leave me like this!”

She reached out and grabbed my arm, trying to pull me towards the door.

she said “You’re coming home and we’re going to fix this.”

I pulled my arm away.

I said my voice steady “No, I’m not. It’s over, Amanda. I’m not coming back.”

She looked like she was going to explode.

she hissed “You’re going to regret this. You’re nothing without me, you hear me? Nothing!”

I didn’t say anything. I just turned and walked out of the cafe, my coffee and muffin forgotten on the counter.,

I heard her footsteps behind me, and I knew she wasn’t going to give up that easily. I made my way to my car and she was right behind me, still yelling.

I said turning to face her “Get in your car and go home. You’re making a scene.” she screamed “I don’t care! You’re my husband! You’re supposed to be with me!” I said opening my car door “I’m not your anything anymore. Just go.”

I got in the car and started the engine. She was still standing there, her face twisted with anger and hurt. I backed out of the parking spot and drove off, but I noticed in my rearview mirror that she was getting into her car too.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. I couldn’t go back to the apartment if she was following me. I needed to lose her.

I drove through a few side streets trying to think. I could see her car behind me, not too far back. My heart was pounding and my hands were sweaty on the steering wheel.

I turned down another street, then another, trying to put some distance between us., I took a sharp left and sped up a bit, hoping she wouldn’t keep up. After a few minutes, I didn’t see her car anymore.

I took a few more turns just to be safe and finally made my way back to my new place. My hands were shaking as I parked and got out. I hurried up the stairs and into my apartment, locking the door behind me.

I stood there for a minute catching my breath. I felt drained. This was only the beginning; I knew that, but I also knew I couldn’t go back—not now, not ever.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I didn’t feel guilty. I didn’t feel sad; I just felt relieved. I was free.

After I managed to lose her that day, I thought maybe just maybe she would give up and let things go. I was wrong. It didn’t take long for her to figure out where I was living.

I’m not sure how she did it; maybe she followed me one day without me noticing, or maybe she asked around. Either way, she found my new address. The first sign was when I came home from work a few days later and saw a pile of mail on my doorstep.,

There were bills and a few random advertisements, but the odd thing was that they were all addressed to Amanda McCoy. She had forwarded her mail to my new place. At first, I thought it was a mistake, maybe some kind of mixup at the post office.

I called her to ask why her mail was showing up at my place.

she said her voice dripping with sarcasm “Oh, I just thought it would be easier for you to pay my bills if they were delivered straight to you.”

I hung up and blocked her number. I threw her mail away, but it kept coming. She was making it clear she knew where I lived.

Then one night I came home and found her sitting on the steps outside my building. I tried to ignore her and walk past, but she stood up and blocked my way.

she said her voice low and cold “You think you can just leave me? You think you can just move on like I don’t exist?” I said trying to stay calm “I’m not doing this Amanda, go home.” she snapped “This is my home! I’m your wife! You don’t get to run away from me!”,

I pushed past her and she started screaming, calling me every name in the book. Neighbors peeked out their windows and I could feel their eyes on us. She was making a scene again, just like at the cafe.

I went inside and locked the door, my hands shaking. She pounded on the door for what felt like hours, shouting that I owed her, that I had ruined her life. I called the police, but by the time they arrived she was gone.

They told me to get a restraining order, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to take that step. I just hoped she would calm down.