He Dumped Me for Being “Not Good Enough”

On my 28th birthday, my grandmother was nagging me about getting engaged again. I took a cab to my boyfriend’s office, only to overhear him telling a female colleague that I was average-looking, from an average family, and just wasn’t good enough for his. His mother, he said, had always despised me, and now he was having second thoughts about marrying me. I’d been with Ted Hoffman since I was 18. Ten whole years, and I never imagined he’d be weighing the pros and cons of our relationship. That night, when he came home, I didn’t ask him a single question. For the first time, I just ate my dinner in silence, showered, and went to bed. As we lay there, he finally asked, “Chloe, you’re being awfully quiet. Are you trying to pick a fight? You’re not thinking of breaking up with me, are you?” “Do you want to?” I asked back. “Yeah,” Ted said. Then he got up, dressed, and left for a party with that same female colleague. I didn’t feel sad or heartbroken. I just opened my phone. I scrolled to an old classmate, Dean Miller, who was also being pressured to get married. A while back, he’d messaged me, “Hey, what if we gave it a shot?”

1 I texted him at 1 AM. I didn’t feel like I was being forward. I knew how much pressure Dean was under to get married; he was probably more desperate than I was. Sure enough, a few minutes later, he replied. “?” “Chloe, are you serious? Last I heard, you had a boyfriend.” “Just broke up,” I typed. “I’m done trying to fix men. If you’re okay with it, let’s just make this work for both of us.” Dean didn’t hesitate. An “OK” popped up almost instantly, followed by a long explanation. “You know I’m still in the army, right? Stationed out in the desert. Probably won’t be discharged for another year.” “After that, I’ll either get a government placement or find a new job. Can’t say what the income will be.” “I have a house my mom bought for me, paid in full. You can live there after we’re married.” “I’ve got about 50k in savings and I’ll get a discharge bonus, but I’m no high-flyer. Probably can’t provide like your ex-boyfriend did.” Dean and I used to sit near each other in high school. He’d seen the whole story of me and Ted unfold. If he was okay with all of this, then I had nothing left to say. I replied with a simple “Okay” and we set a date to get the marriage license. He had a week of leave coming up. That gave me enough time to pack my things and move. Once that was settled, I opened my social media feed. Unsurprisingly, Ted’s colleague, Lily Yan, had just posted: [Drinking the pain away with my childhood sweetheart.] In the photo, Ted and Lily were clinking glasses, their heads so close they were almost touching. Their breath mingled in the air, and Ted’s eyes were hazy with drink. I liked the post. A second later, a message from Ted popped up. [Are you jealous? Don’t be like that. Lily’s just like a little sister to me.] Right. They grew up together, their bond closer than mine with him ever was. Lily looked like a porcelain doll. It wasn’t just Ted; I could see her appeal, too. She’d been studying abroad and had only recently returned, placed in the Hoffman family’s company by her parents to gain experience. That’s when she and Ted started spending more time together. I used to genuinely think of her as a little sister. It took me a long time to realize that their social circle was a fortress, and I was on the outside. Before Lily came back, Ted would take me to his friends’ gatherings. They were never warm, but at least they were polite. After her return, she became the only woman in their group. Ted would always say I didn’t like crowds and leave me at home. The truth was, he thought I was clueless and awkward, not clever and charming like Lily. We fought about his unspoken comparisons countless times. And every time, I was the one who quietly gave in. So this time, when he assumed I was just throwing a tantrum, I didn’t argue. I just told him: [I’m not. We broke up. Your life is none of my business anymore.] Then I blocked him. A few hours later, Ted stumbled home, drunk. He collapsed onto the sofa. There was a lipstick smudge on his collar. The person helping him was Lily. She was a little drunk too, repeating over and over, “Chloe, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop Ted. Please don’t be mad at him.” I wasn’t mad. He was my ex-boyfriend. There was nothing to be mad about. I helped Lily into a chair and poured her a glass of honey water, treating her like a guest. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” She was so disarmingly sweet. Even if she had a hint of malice, those misty eyes made it impossible to stay angry. No wonder Ted was so taken with her.

2 The next morning, Ted woke up with a pounding headache. He instinctively called out my name, “Chloe,” but was met with silence. Stumbling out of the bedroom, he saw me on the sofa, typing away on my laptop. His voice turned sharp. “Chloe, my head is killing me.” “I heard,” I said without looking up. Ted paused, then demanded, “My head hurts. Go make me some lemon water.” I could barely be bothered to respond. My creative juices were flowing, and I didn’t want the interruption. “You can make it yourself. I’m a little busy.” With that, I got up and went into the study, leaving Ted standing there, stunned. Making hangover tea wasn’t difficult. Light the stove, boil water, add honey and lemon, let it cool. I’d done it for him countless times. He’d drunk it countless times. He never thought it was anything special. But now that it was gone, an emptiness gnawed at him. The memory of our breakup last night soured his mood, and a bitter resentment began to brew. He fumbled around the kitchen, made himself something to eat, and then knocked on the bedroom door. “Since we’re broken up, you should move out. This is my family’s apartment.” He spat out the words my family’s apartment with extra venom. My fingers froze over the keyboard. A sharp pain, like a knife twisting in my gut, shot through me. Ten years together. He knew I was an orphan, that I craved a family more than anything. When we first moved in, he’d promised me that even though the deed was in his name, this was my home, too. And now, one day after breaking up, he was kicking me out. I looked up. The man at the door had a face of stone, his eyes cold and distant. He looked at me not like a lover, but with a simmering annoyance. I took a deep breath. “Fine. Can I move out tomorrow? I haven’t had time to pack.” A smirk played on his lips. “No. Today. We’re broken up. There’s no reason for you to stay here.” I looked at him as if he were a complete stranger. “Alright. Whatever you say.” They say a woman never truly has a home. Break up, you move out. Get divorced, you move out. If your name isn’t on the property, a single word from a man can leave you homeless. For the first time, I understood that feeling deep in my bones. After he left for work, I began to pack up my life. For ten years, I truly believed I would marry Ted Hoffman. I had poured my heart into this apartment, making it a home. Plush toys and figurines, lace-trimmed curtains, delicate and adorable pots and pans. Packing it all felt like an impossible task. The more I tried to organize, the more chaotic it became. My head started to spin. Maybe it would be easier to just throw it all away. As I stood there lost in thought, the doorbell rang. It was Ted’s mother.

3 She didn’t know we had broken up. The moment she stepped inside, she started in on me, just like always. Mrs. Hoffman had never liked me. Every meeting was an opportunity for her to find fault. I used to just endure it, hoping that with time, she would eventually accept me. This time was no different. The words flew out of her mouth. “Chloe, you live off my son, you use my son’s things, and this is how you keep the place? A complete mess!” “I don’t know what Ted ever saw in you. No looks, no family background, and you can’t even keep a house clean. You’re completely useless.” “I know you didn’t have parents to teach you any better, but you can’t be this hopeless. Look at this place, it’s a pigsty! How can anyone live here?” “Clean this up right now and come home with me. We have guests coming, and I need you to help out in the kitchen.” The words tumbled out of her so fast I couldn’t get a word in edgewise to tell her we were no longer together. Finally, when she paused for a breath, I managed to say, “I can’t. I have things to do.” She cut me off. “What could you possibly have to do? Sit around writing those silly little stories of yours? Fine. If you come, I’ll give you a thousand dollars for your trouble.” The offer of a thousand dollars stopped the rest of my sentence in my throat. Well, if we were broken up, I might as well get something out of it. It was only when I arrived at the Hoffman residence that I understood her true intentions. She had invited the Yan family for dinner and wanted me to be their waitress. I should have felt a pang of hurt, but as I stood in the corner and watched Ted walk in with Lily and her parents, I suddenly understood what he meant when he said we were “not a good match.” Lily’s parents, impeccably dressed and radiating wealth, walked ahead. Lily and Ted followed, side-by-side, looking for all the world like a young couple visiting the in-laws. They were a perfect pair. I had been to the Hoffman house many times. In my teens, it was to prove I could stand up to them. In my twenties, it was to convince Mrs. Hoffman to accept me as a daughter-in-law. I served tea, did laundry, cooked meals. I did everything I could to be the perfect, dutiful partner. But I realized then that all my efforts had earned me fewer smiles from Mrs. Hoffman than a single gift from Lily. The ruby necklace around Mrs. Hoffman’s neck was a casual gift from the Yans, worth a small fortune. For families like theirs, it was nothing. I laughed at myself. How could I have been so naive? How could I believe love could conquer all, wasting half my life on Ted? Six more days, and I would be free of this quagmire. Even though my arrangement with Dean was one of convenience, I was surprisingly happy about it. I was a creature of habit, terrified of change. I would never have left this situation unless I was forced to. But now, facing the prospect of a new life with a new man, I felt a strange sense of excitement. Once the Yans arrived, I was expected to leave. Mrs. Hoffman transferred the money to my account and told me to use the back door. In ten years together, to prove I wasn’t a gold digger, I had never accepted any expensive gifts from Ted or taken advantage of his family’s wealth. Getting that sudden influx of cash, I felt a pang of regret. If I had known we wouldn’t get married, I should have gotten more out of it. Why waste the title of “girlfriend”? As I was unlocking a rental scooter, Ted caught up to me. He had known I was there all along. His face was a dark mask. “Chloe, where are you going?” “Back to the apartment to finish packing,” I said. “You told me to move out, remember?” Ted let out a ragged breath. He pulled me into his arms, his voice tight with frustration. “Why do you have to be so difficult?” He stroked my hair, just as he had a thousand times before when he was trying to soothe me. “You used to be such a sweet girl. When did you get such a temper?” “Just because I said no to Grandma about the engagement, you throw this huge fit. Can’t you just be a little more understanding?” I turned my head and buried my face in his neck, allowing myself one last moment of closeness. “I can, Ted. I can be understanding.” Understanding enough to let you go, to not stand in your way as you find someone who is your equal, like Lily. He misunderstood, thinking I was giving in. A long sigh of relief escaped him. “Good. My family is having dinner with the Yans tonight. It’s just business, don’t read too much into it.” “There’s nothing going on between me and Lily. I only see her as a sister. I’ll come find you after dinner. You just wait for me at home, okay?” He kissed my forehead and turned to leave. I watched his tall figure walk away, and for a moment, I was transported back ten years. It was this same person, his face flushed, his voice trembling, who had come up to me and confessed, “Chloe, I like you. Will you be my girlfriend?” The ocean that once was is now just a trickle of water. After only a few thousand days, our story had reached its end. I sighed silently. Perhaps all love stories are destined to die young.

4 Back at the apartment, I threw out all the trinkets I could part with and packed the rest. I was still sorting through everything late that night when Ted returned. The moment he walked in, the smile on his face froze. He sighed heavily. “Chloe, I thought we agreed you weren’t going to do this.” I had already dozed off waiting and woke with a crick in my neck. “I’m not. We broke up. I have no reason to keep living in your apartment.” Ted’s patience wore thin. He tossed his jacket aside. “Fine. Have it your way. But you should know, if you walk out that door, I’m not coming after you.” Perfect. Right in front of him, I placed my key on the shoe cabinet and turned to leave. Ted watched me for a moment, but then he followed, blocking my path. He was visibly agitated. “What is it going to take to make you just listen to me for once?” he demanded, as if I were the one being completely unreasonable. His attitude was so absurd I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, I don’t know,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe if you had agreed to get engaged, I wouldn’t be ‘making a scene’.” Ted clenched his jaw. “Chloe, just give me some more time to get used to the idea. Right now… I just don’t think you’re a suitable person to marry.” A suitable person to marry. I couldn’t quite grasp what that meant. The first time I heard that phrase was five years ago. My grandmother had just had heart surgery. Fearing she might not have much time left, she wanted to see me and Ted married. Back then, we were still deeply in love. When I brought up marriage, he froze. He held me for a long time without saying a word. Finally, he whispered, “Chloe, let me talk to my parents first, okay? I’ll give you an answer after that.” I nodded, my heart filled with hope, believing he was planning our future. But after that day, something in Ted shifted. He was still gentle and attentive, but whenever I mentioned engagement or marriage, he would change the subject. If I pressed him, he would get angry. “Look at you, you don’t have a stable job or income. How is this supposed to work? What would my parents think?” “Chloe, I’ve been holding this in, but you’re just not marriage material. You don’t know how to dress, you can’t socialize, and you don’t understand anything about business. You can’t help the family company at all.” He tore me down until I was worthless. But when I would break down and say I wanted to end things, he would send long, pleading messages to win me back. I always thought the root of his hesitation was his mother. It wasn’t until Lily returned that Ted’s attitude did a complete one-eighty. His actions showed me exactly what a “suitable” marriage partner looked like. No matter how much a man loves you, it won’t stop him from weighing his options and choosing the path that benefits him the most. I left the apartment I had lived in for years. Since Dean hadn’t arrived yet, I had nowhere to go, so I rented a small studio for the time being. I took stock of my savings, thinking about making a down payment on a place of my own in the city. Since Dean was away most of the year, it probably wouldn’t matter to him where we lived. I browsed online listings and actually found a few decent pre-owned apartments. After scheduling some viewings, I stayed home and finished writing the third installment of my online novel series.

5 The day I published the final chapter of my novel, Dean came back. We hadn’t seen each other in ten years, but he had barely changed. Strong brows, dark eyes, and tanned skin stretched over muscles bigger than my fist. His tall, powerful frame exuded a raw, masculine energy. He wasn’t as classically handsome as Ted, but he was rugged, radiating pure testosterone. The thought that this man was going to be my husband made me blush. “Dean, long time no see.” He grinned. “Chloe. It’s been too long.” His smile was so genuine. We spent one night catching up, and the next day, we went and got our marriage license. The red certificate I had dreamed of getting with Ted for years, the one I had longed for, was now in my hands after a ten-minute appointment with a different man. On the way back, my heart was a whirlwind of emotions. After getting the license, I took him to my grandmother’s house in the countryside. She was living with my uncle and seemed to be in good spirits. When she saw Dean, her face lit up. “Chloe, who is this?” I handed her our marriage certificate. “Grandma, I’m married. This is my husband, Dean.” She didn’t seem surprised at all, nor did she ask about Ted. She just examined the certificate over and over, then studied Dean for a long moment. “Good,” she said. “This is good. You two look right together.” The photographer at the registrar’s office had said the same thing. Looking at our photo together, I felt an unexpected sense of rightness, a strange feeling that this was how things were always meant to be. Dean just smiled. “Grandma, I’ll take good care of Chloe. Don’t you worry. We’ll give you a great-grandchild as soon as we can.” He was a natural actor. After we left, he handed back the cash gifts he’d received from my family. “I know this is probably a lot to take in at once, so I’m not going to push you,” he said, pressing a bank card into my hand. “You keep these. And this card, consider it a wedding gift from me.” I fiddled with the card in my hand. “Dean,” I finally asked, “what exactly is this between us?” He chuckled softly. “Let’s call it fate.” He was stationed so far away for so long, he never had time for a girlfriend. Pushing 30, he was indifferent to the idea of love. If his mother hadn’t been pressuring him, he never would have rushed into marriage with a near-stranger. He chose me because he figured a familiar face was better than a complete unknown. At least kissing me wouldn’t be awkward. He didn’t care that I had a long-term ex. In his mind, a woman who could stay with one man for ten years had to be a good person at her core. Only loyal people hold on to a relationship for that long. People like that live by a code. Seeing the relaxed expression on his face, I could guess what he was thinking. That was fine. I was also ready to just let life happen and see where it took us. Maybe it would turn out okay. We went to visit his mother next. Amazingly, my new mother-in-law adored me. She immediately gave me a card with a generous check inside and refused to let me lift a finger to help with dinner or the dishes. Before we left, she gave me another card. She told me it was for a down payment on a house. “I know we bought a place here in town, but Dean said you’re used to the city and might not want to move back,” she explained. “This is a little something to help you buy furniture and decorate. Get nice things. A comfortable home makes for a comfortable life.” His mom had been a waitress at the same diner for over a decade. Her hands were rough with calluses. That card probably held her life savings, and she had just handed it over to me without a second thought. My hand trembled as I took it. In the car, I slipped the card back into Dean’s pocket. “I can’t take this. You should hold onto it and find a way to give it back to your mom.” He glanced at it silently. “No. You’re my wife now. This money is yours to manage.”