In the winter of 2020, we have snow for the first time in years. My boyfriend suggests a late-night walk in the freshly fallen snow. I like snow for its prettiness, but I severely dislike the cold that comes with it; it wreaks havoc on my rheumatism, causing severe pain in my back. But I shake it off and go with him on this walk… where he continuously throws snowballs in my direction.

Me: “Please don’t throw snowballs at me. My back in particular is really bad today.”

Boyfriend: “But snowball fights are fun! Why do you always dislike fun things? Besides, it’s very powdery snow; it can’t possibly hurt you.”

Me: “That’s beside the point. I just asked you if you couldn’t throw snow at me, please.” 

Boyfriend: “But… it’s fun!”

He continues to throw snow in my direction, telling me he isn’t aiming to hit me and calling me paranoid. Then, a snowball hits me square between the shoulder blades, and it literally feels like I’m being stabbed with a huge, blunt knife, so I yell out in pain. 

Boyfriend: “Oh, come on. That couldn’t have hurt!” 

Me: *In tears* “How would you feel if I punched you in the back again and again and again and told you to grow a pair?” 

I storm off, trying to avoid further arguments and longing for a hot shower to relieve the pain. He has the house key, however, and I don’t, so I’m forced to wait by the front door for him. I’m still shaking with rage, cold and hurt, when he catches up to me. 

Boyfriend: “So, are you done with your little tantrum? I was trying to have a nice evening out, and I can’t help if every tiny little thing hurts you. It ruins things for me, you know.”

File under reason number 2978972 why he’s my ex now.