Page 14 of Alarm Fatigue

Overall, my efforts have paid off since not only is my house is not only cleaner, but my brain is also less frazzled. Mark is certainly still on my mind, but I feel less angst about everything. Realizing that it is likely that I was just over-reacting, I feel better about everything in general. Most importantly, to me, is that I did not do or say anything I need to feel embarrassed about. What I may have been thinking or feeling is a different story, but he will have no way of knowing that. With this in mind, and trying to be objective about how I how I reacted to him, I can now see that the best path forward is to change my shifts so that I have the least exposure to Mark as possible, at least for the time being. I realize there may be some surprising feelings there on my side, however it continues hardly to matter, given his repeated demonstrations of his disdain for me. Years of his substantiation of his loathing for me are hardly set aside by his using a nicer tone of voice with me a handful of times on one night.

I check my text messages and see I have my upcoming tentative dates set with both Seth and bachelor number three, a Mr. Jacob Gold. I am really looking forward to my next date with Seth as he has offered to take me out on his boat. Apparently, Seth has a sailboat that he keeps in Annapolis. The truth is I cannot wait to tell my children about the date as they know how much I love getting out on the water. Sailing and my memories of it comprise most of the best moments of my childhood. Sailing was a passion of my father’s, when we could afford it, and I always wanted to get back to it. It is a difficult hobby to keep up without access to a boat and no one else in my life right now has one. Actually, I do not mind admitting it feels wonderful to look forward to a date. Let the unsettling continue.

I sit down and look at the hospital schedule and attempt to remove myself from each of Mark’s shifts. One by one, I email each of the other PAs and NPs to swap shifts with them. Trying to ignore the part of me that feels disappointed, I spend the next hour reaching out to people and fielding responses and continue rearranging my schedule. A small voice in the back of my mind thinks perhaps he and I could have just had a conversation and sorted out all of this instead of my turning my entire life upside down. Then I remember his scent and his chest and I realize there is no other way.

The truth, I can now admit to myself, is I am wholeheartedly attracted to Mark Levy. Of course I am—he is mean and my father was mean—of course I would do this to myself. This is what I try to tell myself, but I know it is not the same. The truth is that Mark is honest with me and while he does not spare my feelings when he tells me the truth, he is not cruel for its own sake, as my father was. Knowing there is a difference, however, does not provide me the energy I would need to begin to explore my feelings for him any further. The easier path for me, right now, is simply to write him off and try to move on.

While I am fully aware I am being unfair to Mark by not taking the time to hear him out, I feel driven to push past this and compartmentalize work far away from any emotional entanglements. My position at the hospital has been my safe place and all of this angst is a disruption to that. What may be fair to him is not my responsibility. I have enough work to do on myself: the last thing I should be spending time on is worrying that I might hurt the feelings of someone who has literally made me cry.

Once I am able to move my schedule around, with the exception two shifts, I think maybe he will take the hint and hopefully he will trade his remaining shifts with someone else just as I have done. Either way, my efforts today feel like a buttress around me, and if I am with him for two measly shifts, I can keep it together, I am sure of it. Taking this action has given me a sense of distance that feels like taking my power back.

Except if this is me taking my power back, why is it that I feel a sense of loss?

I am not sad, I try to tell myself, just unsettled. This Jacob Gold person better not be attractive or kind or anything else I may be drawn to. I cannot take another emotional entrapment.

Chapter 12

As it happens, I should not have worried for one moment about the allure of Mr. Jacob Gold because it turns out he is basically the opposite of charming. Initially he actually seemed quite physically attractive, but it was all pretty much downhill from there. Apparently, he is not one to worry much about first impressions. He seems to lack basic manners, does not miss the opportunity for a refill of his cocktail and he really enjoys complaining loudly to any people in the service industry unfortunate enough to work in his vicinity.

After meeting at a bar for what was supposed to be a drink, I am following my now mildly intoxicated third date to the one and only kosher steakhouse in town. Hannah had told me that this particular bar, where he and I planned to meet, is a really popular place, and likely to be crowded. She was not wrong. It was so loud in there that I did not really get a good feel for the kind of man he might be, except that he is a person that enjoys a drink. Or three.

As we walk towards the restaurant, which is a few doors down from the bar, however, I suspect by the way he is ambling down the sidewalk, that there may have been some pre-gaming involved in Jacob’s evening, prior to my arrival. One of my pet peeves left over from a childhood such as mine is men that intentionally walk ahead of me, expecting me to follow. Although given his state of drunkenness I am kind of thankful I am not walking next to him. So all that sums up my initial impressions of him so far. Not to be too judgmental, but Mr. Gold seems to be really self centered.

On second thought, maybe I am just being a bit old-fashioned. Not about the fact that he is several sheets to the wind, which he certainly is. This business of walking ahead and what I think are poor manners maybe are the way the younger generations are now? Perhaps a man waiting for a woman to go ahead of him through a doorway is not something that is important to people anymore. Half of me also suspects, however, that I am just looking for reasons for this to not work. I have enough going on with Seth and Mark. Surely this third date business is completely unnecessary.

Once we arrive at our table, Jacob proceeds to sit down before I do. Because, of course he does.

“So, I have not eaten here,” he says, without looking up from his phone and then his menu. “I have heard it is pretty good.”

“I think it is excellent. I tend to eat at home, but I do try to support our kosher restaurants when I can, since we have so few.”

“Mm. True. But I am up to New York so often that I suppose it is not as novel to me.” My name is Jacob and I get to walk ahead of you and sit first and my job is super important. This man is becoming less impressive by the minute.

The waiter approaches our table and apparently Jacob me-first Gold is not concerned with whether or not I am done reading the menu, as he begins to order without asking me. Then he includes a bottle of Segal Fusion Red Blend in his order, also without a discussion between us.

“I actually do not drink that much, so I don’t know if we will need an entire bottle of wine.”

I look up to see Jacob is capable of eye contact after all, since he is currently frowning at me. “Well, I do want an entire bottle, so it will not be an issue; don’t worry about it.” Wonderful. This evening is just getting better, from one moment to the next.

Time to trudge on; maybe if I start him on a topic he enjoys, this situation will improve. “So, Jacob, you are an investment banker. Is that interesting? Something you always wanted to do?”

“It is kind of a family profession. My father and his brothers were in the same industry before me. It is long hours but I make more than enough money, if you know what I mean.” This he says with a wink for some reason. Next he will be pulling out a cigarette and smacking a waitress on the ass. I gather from listening that his favorite part of his job is “networking”, which I take to mean going out for drinks with clients.

“So you are some type of nurse or something?”

“I am a nurse. I work as a nurse practitioner in the intensive care unit at a local hospital.”

Awkwardly, Jacob then clearly demonstrates that he has never heard of a nurse practitioner in his life before today. It is not surprising, therefore, that he cannot wrap his head around what a nurse practitioner does. Of course that could be because he is now five drinks into our evening, that I know of. He does, however, seem to enjoy calling me Nurse Rachel, which is both creepy and kind of unintentionally funny.

As it turns out, his lack of understanding about the nurse practitioner role in medicine is a moot point as it is becoming painfully obviously that he is more interested in talking about himself than learning anything about me. Another non-surprise about Jacob is that he has never been married. This fact is something which he attributes to a lack of women that meet his standards. Not for the first time, I wonder if he has anyone in his life that can maybe help him see that he is kind of an asshole.

After 1 hour, 49 minutes and 23 seconds of getting to know Jacob I am fairly convinced that his high standards for the opposite sex are not likely to be the only reasons he is perpetually single.

On the positive side, he is kind of pretty to look at. Amalie is super picky on my behalf, and has the best taste, so of course he is. He is just about my same height with dark, nearly black hair, hazel eyes and an olive complexion. He has chiseled facial features with a strong jaw and he clearly works out. His dark features and skin tone set off his eyes in a striking way. And yet, when he talks he manages to become increasingly unattractive.

During one of his diatribes about some women, I realize I have tuned out at some point and should probably refocus before I accidentally agree to a second date or something. Gearing myself up with my best politely listening face, I am immediately sorry that I have rejoined him in this conversation.

“So take this date for example. My friends insisted that I date someone closer to my age, but I don’t see what the point of that is. It is not as if I would find someone who is older than thirty attractive. No offense to you. I mean, you are better looking than I expected, based on your age. And your picture.”

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