I’m not 100% sure if this is the case, but I dated someone once who — after the ordeal, I’m about to describe — made me reconsider the relationship.
One sunny afternoon, many many years ago, I drove to our local Sam’s Club. Upon driving up alongside the back of the building, I noticed an older woman looking panicked and crying as she stood over a frail woman, we assume was her mother, sprawled on the ground. I told my then-boyfriend to roll down his window (I had manual ones on the truck I owned then) and suggested he let them know we’d get help. At first, he balked at the idea, telling me we should mind our own business. I was shocked. He finally acquiesced. Knowing someone was going for help seemed to ease some of the tension in the daughter. I sped around the corner and dropped my then-boyfriend off at the door so I could go park. No urgency on his part, he casually removed himself from my passenger seat.
Upon finding him inside a while later, I discovered he had taken his sweet time strolling to the back of the building to the pharmacy in order to alert someone. “Um, why didn’t you grab one of the people out front with the walkies?”
He shrugged as though the whole ordeal was beneath him and went back to shopping. I was, for lack of a better word, bewildered. And I couldn’t let it go. “What if that had been your grandmother or mother?” Another non-committal shrug. I realized then he was completely compassionless. He found the whole thing one big nuisance. This was not the kind of guy I could stay with long-term; someone who wasn’t the type to care if someone was sick or injured. I guess looking back, there had been other red flags and I suspected he had cheated on me too. Which ended up being the case when I broke up with him, he confessed he’d been sleeping with someone else for a while. Strangely, I wasn’t upset — well, I was — but in my gut, I had already known, so it wasn’t a surprise. It just reinforced to me my decision to end the relationship was for the best.