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I always thought of myself as the bull in every situation—confident, steady, impossible to shake. My girlfriend used to say she loved that about me, how grounded I was. We made sense together, at least that’s what I believed. But then he showed up.
He wasn’t bigger or better looking, just… louder. Sharper edges, stronger presence. The kind of guy who steps into a room and bends the air around him. At first I brushed it off. People like him flare up, burn bright, fade fast. I didn’t think he’d matter.
But she started laughing at his jokes a little longer. Staying out a little later. Looking at him the way she used to look at me. I told myself it was a phase, that she’d come back once the shine wore off. Bulls don’t chase, after all.
Then one night she told me he was “just more her pace.” Faster. Fiercer. More… everything. And that was it. No screaming, no drama. Just a door closing softly behind her.
I’m still the bull; solid, grounded, unshaken. But I learned something: even a bull can get outmatched when someone comes along who knows exactly how to take the lead.
And sometimes, you just have to let them.
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