My Least Favorite Burrito

Story Sent in by Felicia:

I had been dating Harold for a solid three months. Early one week, he called to ask me if I was up for a "Turkish burrito" for that following weekend. I had never heard of such a thing and I asked him what it was.

"You've never heard of a Turkish burrito? You just wait. I'll show you this weekend."

The rest of the week passed as it normally did with him. We had daily conversations and nothing seemed at all out of the ordinary.

Finally, Saturday rolled around. It was snowing and we had a movie night in at my place. Every time I asked him about the Turkish burrito, he demurred and wouldn't tell me anything more than, "You'll find out tomorrow. Probably in the morning."

We watched movies. We had some fun. The next morning in bed, he woke me up and said, "Are you ready for the Turkish burrito?"

"Yes! Finally," I said. I didn't know what to expect, but I was excited.

He wrapped me up tightly in my blankets, like a burrito. He tucked some excess in around my head so that I couldn't see anything. He then said, "Wait here."

He left the bed and the bedroom.

About seven-ish minutes later, he hadn't returned. I called out for him. No answer. I slid out from the covers and walked out of the bedroom.

He was gone. As in, he had clearly left. What's more, all of his stuff was also gone: the movies he brought over, the clothes he had habitually left at my place, and even his toothbrush. Gone. I called him and texted, but there was no response.

The next week, I found out from a friend that Harold had apparently already met someone else and they had started dating. Well, it was fun while it lasted. I guess.


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