Epic Sushi Conclusion

When we last left our story, my finger had just been viciously sliced open by a broken glass bent on assassination, I had been hastily patched up in a Frankenstein fashion by the finest crazy doctor in all the land, and then I was sent out on my merry way.

Because this all occurred early in the morning, I went immediately from the emergency room to my office, now wildly late for work. Trying to navigate anything with my mummified finger was tragi-comic and a full hour hadn't passed before I reached my frustration threshold.

Luckily, it was lunchtime, so I could drop everything where it was and wander out to find some emotion-soothing food. And there is no better option for such a thing than sushi. Specifically, sushi from the home of Sushi Girl. Comfort food and flirting. Cannot go wrong.

(Minor update: We totally made up after our last (in my mind) argument. Turns out she was training to work with the chefs that day and was in a bad mood. We'd been back to the status-quo flirting since then for some time. Although I hadn't been there in a couple of weeks.)

So I call my order in to her and take off for the restaurant, cradling my wounded arm as inconspicuously as possible. I get to the restaurant and Sushi Girl (okay, just to be clear, I did learn her name, but really she will always be Sushi Girl to me.) greets me and runs over to get my order.

We have our normal banter about raw fish, which you know must be very scintillating and full of wit just based off the subject alone. When she goes to hand me the food, though, she sees my wounded hand and wants to know what happened. I try to think of a very manly and impressive battle story, possibly involving a bar fight and/or a motorcycle gang terrorizing me with broken glass bottles, but my imagination is slow and I end up telling her the full-on boring story of a rogue glass and a malfunctioning sponge.

She is still suitably impressed and condolence-y, for which I love her even more.

And then.

She says, "Well you know, I have something with my hand too." (Broken English = Very cute)
And then I realize that throughout this whole thing she has sort of had her hand hiding behind her back. So I'm all "What?!" Full of questions and concern.

She whips out her hand, and has on the biggest damn diamond ring that I have seen in a very long time. "I am to be married!"

....

Yep, that's right, not only has Sushi Girl been cheating on our fake love affair, she has gotten engaged. To a boy!

"Aww! Congratulations!" I say, as my heart breaks into a million tiny pieces. I feel lightheaded, but that could just be the blood loss from earlier in the day. As she begin to tell the story of her fiancee, my internal monologue falls through the thousand little steps accompanied with a traditional break-up.

"He's in the fish market."
(Anger: Fish market? I have a better job than that!)

"He likes to go sailing."
(Jealousy: He has a boat?!)

"He's on a soccer team"
(Bargaining: I could join a soccer team for you. I would be awesome!)

"We're buying a house in Mesquite!"
(Depression: I could never afford a house. I'm such a loser.)
(Business sense: Wait, buying a house? Do you need a mortgage? My office is very competitive.)

By the end of her spiel, I am both heartbroken and completely jealous. I want to be all "Ohhh, well, yeah, I'm totally engaged too! To someone equally awesome! I just don't have a ring because our union isn't recognized by the state!" And then I would probably run from the restaurant sobbing.

Except, okay technically at this particular moment I haven't been on a date in 6 weeks and I'm too disoriented from her revelation and my near assassination earlier to come up with a good story on the fly. So she totally beats me. I have to deal with her infidelity to our fake-love and have no comeback of my own. Only a busted hand and a crushed heart.

It is a long walk of shame out of her sushi world and back to my office building.

So now we are definitely fake broken-up for good. It's for the best, after all. We were from two different worlds really. Hers all full of sushi and boat-owning soccer players, and mine full of rainbow flags and gaping hand wounds. Would never have worked out.

I'm totally over her.
*sniff*
Totally.

Now if you'll excuse me for a moment, I seem to have something in my eye.