Opening the front door after my breakup sex trip, I found Don furiously pacing the house. He was not packed. He was not gone. He hadn't done a damned thing since I had called him the night before except to walk circles in my house and occasionally stop in his circuit to call my friends to tell them what I had done while waiting for my return.
     Standing in the doorway watching him pace, I asked, "Are you packed yet?"
     Coming to a halt, he glared at me and shook his head. "No. I'm not leaving."
     "Don, you said if I cheated on you, you would leave. I have cheated. Now you need to leave," sighing with frustration. I had hoped to come home to an empty house, not another useless argument. 
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