Page 31 of Love and Other Mental Health Concerns
I am an idiot. I know it’s wrong, but there is this voice nagging at me that I should have listened to those anxious thoughts over the past few weeks. That is what I am thinking as I am sitting with Annie on a bench right outside the hospital on our lunch break. “You are being too hard on yourself; he clearly likes you!” She is trying to talk me off the ledge.
“Annie, I think he just likes everyone. It’s the sunshine disposition. And honestly, that’s fine. Really, it’s fine. I am glad I didn’t get more entangled than I already have. Lesson learned.”
“No lessons learned! You can’t let this instance dictate the rest of your dating life. Tell me about Saturday, I thought you said you had a good time?” Annie has an anticipatory look on her face.
“I did, I had a great time actually. We ate junk food and walked around town to window shop, he even bought me a scarf. He even,” I pause, unsure why this feels so silly now, “he held my hand.”
“Marcy…that’s so sweet.” She makes one of those faces like she is about to tear up.
“Yeah, well, then we ran into his parents and he kind of freaked out. They weren’t exactly warm, or even polite. That’s why I went to talk to him this morning. I wanted to make sure he was feeling better. It clearly rattled him.” I was worried aboutthis man, and he was planning to hook-up with someone else. I am such a fool. “I just feel silly for thinking we had more of a connection. Am I really so desperate for a male attention? It’s pathetic.”
“You are not pathetic, there is nothing wrong with wanting to connect with another person, especially one as hot as him. You aren’t even desperate, if that were the case you would have just asked me for a reference.”
“A reference? For one of your booty calls?”
“I’m not sure people are using the term ‘booty call’ these days, but yes for one of those. I am not using them anymore; someone might as well reap the benefits of my work.”
“Ugh, no references and no more mentioning how hot he is. I don’t want just anyone; I thought I wanted him.” I dangle my head between my knees. Annie rubs my back.
“Are you sure you have all the information? You said he did seem surprised to see her.”
“What else is there to know? She’s hot, tiny, blonde, and so bubbly. Any guy would be all over her, and she walked into his office like it was second nature. She didn’t register that I existed until Nick said he was in the middle of something.” So humiliating. My head is still hanging between my knees and the sunshine beating down on my back feels like it’s mocking me.
“Okay, but what didhedo Marcy?” Annie knows I have to challenge my doomsday thought patterns, she has helped me do it for years. I take a moment to truly assess the situation.
“Like I said, he seemed surprised, maybe a bit panicked? We were starting a conversation about what was going on between us when she walked in. It was like divine intervention or something.”
“And which direction was that conversation going?”
“He wants more than friendship. I had half a second to enjoy knowing that. He didn’t want me to leave when she walkedin, wanted me to stay and talk, but I made myself scarce as quick as I could.” Annie just sits quietly with me, letting me process. She really is a good friend. “It’s maybe for the best. He will be gone in a couple months anyway, and I don’t need to have sex ever again, let’s just take it off the table.”
“Marcy, this isn’t just about sex. You admitted that you liked the idea of having a partner to do things with, to share things with, why are you so afraid of wanting that?” Annie was right. I was afraid of those things, but I never even kissed Nick, and I was already in a state of agony over what I would never have with him. At some point, doesn’t a person run out of their tolerance for the pain? At some point, don’t I just need to decide to put on my armor and leave it there?
“You know what I was like when things fell apart with Max. I don’t know if I will recover if something like that happens again.”
“Nick isn’t Max, and you aren’t the same person from six years ago. You are stronger, and wiser, and have a really kick-ass best friend to help get you through it.” She beams at me, and I know its true. “And maybe Nick isn’t the guy to try again with, maybe he is banging the blond, but it doesn’t mean you should cut yourself off from the possibility of a partner completely.” These moments with my best friend always feel bittersweet. Here she is to offer her shoulder to lean on, and I can’t help but wonder if there is an alternate universe in which my mom would have been that person for me. A rare moment when I miss the idea of her.
“Thanks Annie.” Her arm is draped over my shoulders in an embrace, adding to the warmth of the sun on our backs. It’s grounding me to the moment.
“No problem, now what can I do? Should we go out tonight?”
“No thanks, I think I just need one night to wallow, get some sleep, and then I will be re-focused. I’m just disappointed with how things went today is all.”
“Fair enough. I have to get back inside. Dr. Dipshit’s patient tried to pleasure himself with a slinky and the results were disastrous.” She stands to leave, the light catching her blond braids and making her glow.
“A slinky? How does that work?”
“It doesn’t. Love you, I will call you later.” Annie heads back toward the front door, crossing paths with Nick who is now walking towards me. She turns back to me to make sure I am okay, and I give her a nod. No concerns here, just the Adonis. Just my pulse rocketing under my skin, and my fidgeting so intense that the fingers in my bones are rattling. He’s sleeping with someone else; this should be an easy decision. Forget him. No big deal.
Nick walks up to me, hand in pockets, shoulders slightly hunched in my direction. His sleeves on his shirt are rolled up, displaying his tattoos, which he never does at work. His beard looks like he has been running his hands through it, or at least, someone has.
“Hi Marcy, can I sit down?”
“Of course, it isn’t my bench. I was just finishing up actually, so I’ll see you around.” I get up to leave and he rests his hand on my arm. It’s firm and rough.
“Can you give me one minute before you go? I won’t bother you again if you don’t want me to, just want a chance to explain.” He seems hesitant with his touch, and keeps smoothing his beard, which is just having the opposite effect. When he is close like this, I can appreciate the delicate wrinkles starting to form on his face, more pronounced with the furrow in his brow. His beautiful blue eyes are strained, not their typical glittering state.
“Okay, one minute.” I offer.
