And then, one night, Jude invited me over for tacos and proceeded to tell me he’d slept with someone else two days before — after he and I hadn’t been intimate for a couple of weeks. I lost it. I started screaming, which made him cry, which then made me cry, which made the whole situation incredibly confusing. We both laid our shit bare for an hour, after which he begged me to stay the night so that we could just figure this out. Maybe it will be better in the morning, I thought. So I sat down at his breakfast bar and watched him plate tacos for us. But the voice in my head was screaming at me to get the fuck out of there, Maria. And this time, for whatever reason, I listened to it. I quietly packed up my things as he watched, told him I had to go, cried into his chest, felt my resolve waver, but then walked out the door.