No More Secondhand Men

My boyfriend was a boy genius, cold and brilliant, with a pathological aversion to physical touch.
We’d been together for years, but we’d never done any of the intimate things couples do. Not a single one. I’d convinced myself that was just his nature, and I was prepared for a life of platonic love.
That is, until his birthday. I took a forty-hour trip in a cramped coach seat, all the way across the country, just to surprise him.
And I saw him. Standing under a streetlamp.
He was smiling as he gave the ponytail of the girl next to him a playful tug, then laced his fingers through hers.
In that single, shattering moment, I decided I was done with him.
“I don’t do sloppy seconds. Any man another woman has touched is dirty to me.”
And the calm, self-possessed boy genius I thought I knew… finally broke.

1
It was the fourteenth day of the silent treatment between Jerry and me, and it was also his birthday.
I clutched the gift I’d spent six months of part-time work saving up for and tried to rub some feeling back into my backside, which had gone completely numb after forty hours on a train. Two thousand miles, from my state university in the Midwest all the way to his prestigious campus in the city.
Standing under a flickering streetlamp on the edge of the Blackwood University athletic fields, I couldn't help the nervous flutter in my chest as I imagined his reaction.
He’d probably be the same as always. Expressionless. A slight, almost imperceptible nod in my direction.
That was just him—an automaton, seemingly devoid of emotion.
I sighed, thinking back to what started our fight.
Distant figures swam in the hazy light, and then I saw him, a silhouette so familiar it ached. I started forward, but then I froze. He wasn't alone.
A girl in a high ponytail and a sleek tracksuit was looking up at him, laughing at something he'd said.
And Jerry… I don't think I had ever seen such a relaxed, easy expression on his face.
As the girl chattered away, he reached out and gave her ponytail a gentle tug.
She let out a playful squeal and slapped at his hand. Instead of recoiling, he laughed and joined in her game, their movements light and carefree. The lamplight cast a soft halo around them, a perfect portrait of youth and beauty playing under the moon.
It was a scene straight out of a rom-com, but it filled me with a cold, hollow dread.
There was a reason for that.
The very reason for our fight was Jerry’s… condition.
He was the boy genius who’d made headlines back home, fast-tracked into Blackwood University at seventeen. Now, at twenty, he was already a rising star in his academic field.
But geniuses have their quirks. Jerry’s was a pathological aversion to physical contact.
He avoided all team sports, never took public transit. In middle school, he’d beaten a classmate bloody just because the kid had jokingly touched his hand.
And I, his girlfriend, was no exception.
We never kissed. We never hugged. We had never even held hands.
Once, on our first anniversary, beneath a sky bursting with fireworks, I stood on my toes and stole a quick kiss on his cheek. His eyes remained as flat and calm as a frozen lake, but the way he instantly took a half-step back was a wound that festered for a long time.
I always told myself, That's just Jerry.
But sometimes, a bitter resentment would bubble up.
On Valentine's Day, my roommate made her new relationship Instagram official. The picture of their clasped hands was flooded with hearts and congratulations. I couldn't resist taking a screenshot and sending it to Jerry.
I tried to make a joke out of it. Three years together and we've never even held hands. I must be one of a kind.
His reply was a single, devastating letter.
“K.”
I was so hurt, I decided not to message him. Fourteen days of silence. And of course, he would never be the one to reach out first.
In the end, though, I caved. Just like I always did. I convinced myself it was fine, traveled halfway across the country for him, only to be greeted by this scene.
The disconnect was so vast it felt like the ground was splitting open beneath me.
A motorcycle suddenly roared past, coming dangerously close to the girl. In a flash, Jerry’s arm shot out. He pulled her behind him, his hand firmly gripping hers.
That protective, instinctual gesture was another knife in my heart.
And at that same moment, his eyes lifted and found me, standing alone across the street.

2
His face remained a mask of indifference.
His movements hitched for a fraction of a second, and then he started walking briskly toward me.
The girl, Chloe, let out a little cry and tugged on the corner of his jacket. “Hey, Jerry! What’s the rush?”
He didn’t pull away. He just let her hold on as he crossed the street. He stopped in front of me, his gaze traveling down to my worn-out sneakers.
“What are you doing here?”
The faint light danced in his dark eyes. Before tonight, I would have mistaken that for a spark of warmth. I tried to stretch my lips into a smile. It felt like pulling taffy. I held out the carefully wrapped gift.
“Jerry. I came to wish you a happy birthday.”
He reached for it, but Chloe’s voice cut through the air. “Oh my god, Jerry! We’re going to be late for our reservation! We have to go, now!”
His hand stopped in mid-air. Pulled along by Chloe’s insistent tugging, he took a few steps before pausing and looking back at me.
“Well? Are you just going to stand there? Come on.”
My feet felt like lead as I trailed behind them, my mind replaying that scene under the streetlamp on a dizzying loop. I knew I was the third wheel, the awkward extra sitting in the front seat of the taxi like a piece of forgotten luggage.
But how do you just give up on someone you’ve loved for so many years?
From the back seat, Chloe’s cheerful chatter filled the car. She was talking about lab gossip, inside jokes I couldn’t understand. Jerry would murmur a soft response now and then, the atmosphere between them easy and familiar.
I couldn’t help but remember.
I used to love sharing little bits of my day with him, too. He never really responded, but I didn’t care. Then one day, as I was excitedly telling him about the stray cat that lived near my dorm, he cut me off.
“Lily, do you have nothing better to do with your time?”
I never bothered him with “pointless chatter” again.
I never knew that he would listen so intently to someone else's.
My knuckles were white as I gripped the handle of the gift bag, the plastic digging painfully into my palm. A wave of exhaustion and sorrow so profound washed over me, I thought I might collapse.
The taxi driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, noticing my red-rimmed eyes. He chuckled, trying to be friendly.
“Hey, son, don’t just talk to your girlfriend back there,” he said, nodding toward Chloe. “Your little sister’s about to cry from being ignored.”
The chatter in the back seat died instantly.
My vulnerability exposed, I hastily wiped away my tears, a hot flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck.
After a moment of silence, Chloe let out a soft, tinkling laugh. “Oh, I am so sorry. We completely forgot you were there.”
She leaned forward slightly. “I’m Chloe Sherman, by the way. Jerry’s junior in the program. Though I skipped a grade, so we’re in the same graduate lab now. If all goes well, we’ll be doing our PhDs together, too.”
She was still smiling, but there was a sharp, mocking edge to it now. “And you are? What school do you go to? Who’s your advisor? Published anything interesting? Funny, Jerry’s never mentioned you.”
So this was Chloe.
It was pathetic, I know, but I used to stalk the student forums for Jerry’s university. He was popular, a campus legend, and there were always threads about him. Since he never shared his life with me, it was the only way I could feel close to him.
Her name, Chloe, always appeared alongside his. They called them the “Golden Couple of the Materials Science Department.”
I’d even seen a photo of them. It was from some competition, the two of them on the winner's podium, holding a trophy together, their smiles wide and triumphant.
I’ll admit it. That picture made me burn with jealousy.
The wind whistled past the car window. Jerry remained silent. He didn’t lift a finger to defend me against Chloe’s blatant provocation.
“I’m Jerry’s… girlfriend,” I whispered.

3
The restaurant was an exclusive private kitchen specializing in fusion cuisine. A quick glance at the menu made my legs feel weak.
Chloe ordered with the practiced ease of a regular. “The heirloom tomato tart, pan-seared scallops, and the duck confit for sure. Jerry loves those.”
Did he? I had no idea.
Before he was a genius, Jerry was just a kid from a normal family, like me. Our dates were usually at cheap noodle shops or diners. A real splurge for us was hot pot. I’d never even heard of a place like this.
Chloe handed the menu back to the waiter. Just as he was about to leave, Jerry stopped him.
“And add an order of the Nashville hot chicken. Extra spicy.”
Chloe turned to him, her smile unwavering. “Jerry, I thought you never ate spicy food.”
He just took a sip of his tea, offering no reply.
But I knew. The person who loved spicy food wasn’t him. It was me.
I felt that familiar, treacherous sting behind my eyes again. He always did this. Just when I was about to give up, about to walk away, he’d give me the tiniest crumb of hope to keep me chasing after him.
Just like that night with the fireworks. After he’d flinched away from my kiss, he’d leaned in, just for a second, and pressed his lips softly to my hair.

4
The food was exquisite, but it tasted like ash in my mouth.
After forty straight hours on a train, fueled only by a single pack of crackers to save money, my body was too exhausted to even feel hungry.
Soon, the clock struck midnight.
Chloe clapped her hands, and a group of waiters wheeled in an enormous, three-tiered cake. It was intricately decorated, with tiny fondant figures in lab coats dotting each layer. They must have been people from their lab.
On the very top stood two figures, a boy and a girl, shoulder to shoulder, beaming.
As the cake was placed in front of Jerry, Chloe began to speak. “Happy twentieth birthday, Jerry.” Her eyes sparkled as she pointed to the figures on top. “And here’s to us, reaching the summit together.”
An entirely inappropriate toast.
But that one order of spicy chicken had planted a foolish seed of hope in my heart. I prayed he would reject the cake, that he would say something, anything, to defend my place at his side.
He just smiled faintly and thanked her.
Then, he closed his eyes, hands clasped together, and made a wish. The candlelight softened the sharp, usually severe lines of his face. He had smiled more tonight than I’d seen him smile in all the years I’d known him combined.
Was his wish about me? Or was it the same as Chloe’s toast—a wish for them to conquer the world together?
They were geniuses. I was just an ordinary, broke student from a no-name college. The chasm between us had never felt so vast, so brutally real.
I had my answer.
The candles went out, plunging the room into darkness. And in that moment, my feelings for him dimmed, too.
Chloe cheered and applauded. I forced a smile and clapped along weakly. She scooped a dollop of frosting with her finger and playfully smeared it on Jerry’s cheek. He just laughed, telling her to stop messing around.
“Oh no, look what I did! I’ve ruined that perfect face of yours,” she giggled. “To make it up to you, I got you a proper gift!”

5
Like a magician, Chloe produced a large, sleek box from behind her chair and presented it to Jerry.
The moment he opened it, my vision tunneled.
I instinctively shoved the box at my own feet further under the table.
Inside her box, nestled in black foam, was a brand-new, top-of-the-line laptop.
It was the exact same one I had bought for him.
“Your old one is so slow, Jerry. So, I got you a new one,” she said breezily. “I didn’t get anything too expensive, because I knew you wouldn’t accept it. Just picked one at random. You don’t mind, do you?”
That laptop cost 0-0,299.
To afford it, I’d spent six months tutoring. Every weekend, I’d take a two-hour bus ride to the other side of the city to teach, just because that tutoring center paid ten dollars more per hour than any place near my campus.
The product of all my sweat and sacrifice, something I had treasured and protected… was just something she had “picked at random.”
My hand, still holding my fork, began to tremble.
Chloe’s eyes suddenly darted to me, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Oh, right! We haven’t seen what our guest of honor brought for Jerry yet.”
Before I could react, she circled around behind me. Her hand shot out and snatched the box from under the table.
I gasped and lunged for it, trying to get it back.
The half-opened box slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor.
The laptop—the one I had cradled in my arms for two thousand miles—hit the polished hardwood with a sickening, final thud.
“Oops, sorry,” Chloe said. Her tone held not a shred of apology.
I dropped to my knees, fumbling to open the box. The chassis was bent, the screen was a spiderweb of cracks. I pressed the power button. Nothing.
Jerry knelt beside me, reaching out to help me up. “Lily…”
For the first time all night, I heard a trace of guilt in his voice.
I shoved his hand away and numbly placed the broken computer back in its box. Then, I stood up and walked out of the private dining room.
The moment I was through the door, I broke into a run.
“Lily!” Jerry’s voice, sharp with alarm, echoed behind me.

6
I wasn’t fast enough. He caught me just outside the restaurant’s main entrance, his fingers digging into my shoulders. He was panting, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps.
I looked up, meeting his eyes. For the first time, I saw genuine shock in them.
His hand trembled as he reached up and touched my cheek, his thumb wiping away a trail of moisture. I hadn't even realized I was crying.
So this is what it felt like to be touched by him.
A bitter taste filled my mouth. Tears streamed down my face, soaking the collar of my shirt. Jerry tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming. Finally, in a move that stunned me, he pulled me into his arms.
“Lily, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry…” he murmured, his voice laced with a frantic edge I’d never heard before. He repeated my name over and over again.
In my moment of utter heartbreak, I had finally become his exception.
But I was no longer the only exception.
For all I knew, in all the moments I couldn't see, he had been breaking his own rules for Chloe, time and time again.
“Jerry.” I had been rehearsing this in my head for what felt like an eternity. When the words finally came out, my voice was shockingly steady.
“Let’s break up.”
He froze. When he pulled back to look at me, his eyes were filled with confusion.
“Really, Lily? Over this?”
A flicker of something—annoyance?—crossed his face before he sighed, a sound of weary resignation.
“Lily, are you trying to get me to comfort you? When did you get so childish?” he asked, his tone flat. “This thing with Chloe… it’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand. Don’t make a scene.”
He spoke as if I were a simple equation he could solve without effort, arriving at the perfect answer. He clearly thought I was too simple-minded to grasp the nuances of his relationship with Chloe, and that it wasn't worth his time to explain it to a mere mortal like me. He just wanted me to stop being "childish" and pretend, like all the other times, that nothing had happened.
Like a well-behaved pet.
A hysterical laugh tried to bubble up, but it was choked off by a sob. Tears dripped into the corner of my mouth.
I raised my hand, fully intending to slap him.
But in that instant, all the strength drained out of me. My fingers just scraped across his cheek, leaving a thin, red line.
“Jerry, you’re not a genius. You’re just an arrogant, self-righteous asshole.”
He stood there, stunned, and slowly raised a hand to his face. Then, a strange look crossed his features.
“There. Do you feel better now?”

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