No!

"Very funny, Rose," you reply. "But I'm not wearing a diaper."

"But what about the bedwetting?" she asks.

"It was a fluke!"

"But you could-"

"I don't care, Rose!" you interrupt. "I'm 18, I'm not going to wear a diaper!"

Rose looks down at her feet for a moment, and says, "We're done, John."

"What?" you respond, confused.

"You never listen to me, or trust me. I think it's time we see other people."

"But, Rose--"

"Goodbye, John," she says as she walks out of room, shutting the door behind her.

You sit down on your bed, next to the diapers, realizing what just happened. You just got dumped, over diapers. And she was so fucking _hot, _too.

How do you mourn this loss?