Helen “

The moment I realized I wasn’t a “relationship person” was when David bought me a cake shaped like a wig stand.
Yes, a wig stand.
It was supposed to be sweet congratulations on hitting 1,000 sales for my online hair business. It was sweet. Annoyingly so. Too sweet, even. Who thinks of something like that? A thoughtful man, that’s who. And thoughtful men are dangerous. They get under your skin, and make you consider things like joint bank accounts and forever. I wasn’t built for “forever.”

The cake was just the beginning.
David had this unsettling way of remembering every detail about me. My favorite tea (chamomile, no sugar, just honey), my irrational hatred of Mondays, and even my dream of owning a warehouse for my business. He asked questions like he genuinely cared.

Something had to be done.
I started small. “Forgetting” our dates, conveniently “falling asleep” when he called. But David didn’t get angry. He didn’t even sulk. He just laughed it off.
“It’s okay, Helen. I know you’ve been busy with work.”

Busy with work. That was my favorite excuse, but David supported my hustle. He posted my wig business on his Instagram unprompted! and sent customers my way.
“You’re sabotaging this all wrong,” my best friend Titi told me. “You need to stop being nice about it.”

Running my business was supposed to be my escape. But lately, even that was making me question everything.
I dealt with all kinds of people: customers asking if a wig would still “look good” if their boyfriend didn’t like it, women who paid in installments for closure, and men, men! calling me directly to buy wigs for their girlfriends.
“Give me your best one,” one man said, not even flinching when I told him the price

When he booked a couples’ cooking class, I cracked. “You’re too perfect,” I blurted. “I can’t handle this.” He just smiled like I was being cute.
Later, he sent me a DM: a picture of my dream wig. “Didn’t buy it, but I know a guy with discounts.”
Why does he have to be so… David? Maybe he’s not the problem. Maybe it’s me. But admitting that? Not happening.