Page 37 of Love and Other Mental Health Concerns
“I’m going to encourage you to listen to the last sentence that just came out of your mouth again. I believe my increased excitement over this issue will be quite clear. You ended a six year long dry spell. You conquered your anxiety about movingforward, which takes guts and a lot of work.” She really is a good friend. “Nick is the perfect temporary distraction, good time with no strings, exactly what you need, and are making it happen.” Ah, might need to explain some things.
“Well, that’s the thing. He said he doesn’t want casual; he wants more. With me specifically. He asked me out on a date tomorrow, a real one. This is why I came to you. I need you to tell me it is all going to work out, calm my fears, the reassuring stuff. Then I need you to help pick an outfit.”
Annie pauses and looks at me contemplatively. “This is hot, he’s gorgeous, and smart, and you guys clearly share some passions and work goals. But…”
“AbutAnnie!? Now you have a concern?”
“But you have to remember that he is leaving. I know he says he wants more, but he is leaving in a couple months. What will you do, long distance?”
That sounds terrible, and she was right. So what if he has real feelings for me, that hardly means anything in this situation. “You’re right. So now what?”
“You go out with him tomorrow and you see how you feel. Maybe you guys just have the attraction and need to get it out of your system. You aren’t going to get any answers by avoiding him or denying yourself.” She’s sipping her second glass of wine. My first still sitting untouched on the bar. Too nervous to imbibe.
“I can’t stop thinking about him.” I jitter in my seat.
“Aw honey…now give me the dirty details.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Marcy
The following evening, I am getting ready with Annie at my apartment. Unlike me, Annie has kept an active love life since we were teenagers, and has wardrobe options that say things like, “check out these breasts,” “grab my ass,” and “take me back to your place.” My outfits say things like, “my couch is cozy,” “elastic is sandwich friendly,” and “I’ll meet you at the gym.”
“Are you sure this isn’t too tight?” I ask as I stare at some woman I am meeting for the first time, in the mirror.
“Are you kidding me? Your tits look amazing, and he won’t be able to help himself from putting his hands on your waist.” I insist on wearing my favorite jeans, the ones I know make my ass look phenomenal, but I gave her control of everything else. She picks a fitted, deep purple, cotton shirt that is off the shoulder and hugging my breasts like a second skin. The shirt sits perfectly along the seam of my jeans, just the hint of skin showing if I bend one way or the other. My curls are down and loose, make-up is simple to highlight my eyes, simple silver hoops in my ears. My rings have been twirling a mile a minute as my nerves rev.
He wants more, with me. I want more, with him. It should be so simple, yet I stay so scared, letting the past take over my emotions. That has to end tonight, has to end for me to have the future I want, to find happiness in my own way. I realize not everyone will break my heart; Annie is staring at me as living proof. Now to give Nick a chance.
“Scared?” She asks, managing to do so without judgment.
“Terrified, but I can do this. I want to do this. He might be worth it.”
“He might be worth it.” She echoes me. Annie has been giving me some strained looks while helping me get ready, and I can’t quite decipher what she is thinking. I don’t pester her about it, assuming it is related to some mixed feelings about me taking this chance with Nick. Besides, it is almost six o’clock, so Nick will be knocking on my door any minute. “Ready? You look great.”
“Yes, I actually am.” Realizing that first time I am telling the truth, mostly to myself. I am ready.
I haven’t talked to Nick all day, save for a few texts in the morning just saying how excited he is for our date, and to wear shoes I can walk in. At exactly six, I hear his knock at the door. Annie hides in my bedroom, planning to sneak out after we leave.
I answer the door and am immediately hit with the scent of him, Pine and laundry detergent, and maybe the hint of something more minty. He wants to kiss me; it makes me smile. As usual, he’s gorgeous. Not a hair is out of place, and his beard is neatly trimmed, his broad chest and thick arms highlighted by the tightness of his black sweater. His sleeves are pushed up just enough to see the bottom of his tattoos, jeans that are perfection. He has a jacket swung over his shoulder like he is in some sort of magazine, and it takes me a second to really soak up the sight of him.
Thankfully, he seems to need the time as well because his striking blue eyes instantly darken and rake me over from head to toe. It gives my spine a shiver, and my nipples awaken from the gaze. “God, you look…stunning.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” He leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek, and he takes the opportunity to smell my hair without even trying to hide it. I love how wanted it makes me feel.
“Shall we?” He puts his arm out for me to take and we are on our way.
It’s a cool fall evening, enough sunlight to give a glow to the street, while the lights of the downtown shops and restaurants start turning on in a stagger. We walk at a leisurely pace, Nick holding my hand and stealing the occasional glimpse my way. I’m doing the same, almost a game to see if we catch each other looking. Butterflies in my stomach the whole way.
I wonder if this is what it would have felt like to have dated in high school; holding hands, blushing at each other, feeling the nerves in my stomach take over. Is this what people feel like when they don’t have to run home and make sure their parent isn’t drunk or sick? When people just allow themselves to get lost in the energy of another person? I never had this feeling of lightness in my past relationship, there was always some underlying tension. I blamed myself for how things transpired back then, but holding Nick’s hand leaves me realizing that there was so much wrong with that relationship from the beginning. Things should have felt easier, at least in the beginning, but I always felt like a burden to Max. Too high maintenance, too much grief over the loss of my mother, too delicate. I bask in the realization that I have never felt that pressure with Nick, that pressure to be something other than what I am in the moment.
“You want to tell me what has you smiling over there, Ms. Murphy?” Nick interrupts my internal monologue.
“I feel comfortable, and it’s hard to explain how meaningful that is to me.” He smiles and nods, seemingly considering the sentiment. Maybe he does know how meaningful that is, considering how uncomfortable he has felt with his own insecurities.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, but I am guessing that getting to this point has very little to do with me, and everything to do with who you are tonight.” He has no idea what giving me that credit does to my soul.
We approach the town square, the small gazebo lit up with string lights, matching the delicate twinkle of those that are also hung in the trees around. Trees that hang over much of the streets and central gathering space, creating a soft canopy of twinkling glow. I have been to this square a million times before, played in the fountain as a child, eaten hundreds of ice cream cones along the river, attended countless festivals and events, but never has the place felt so magical as in this moment. Nick slows our walking as we approach the river, a small table is set up along the water, hidden behind one of the low brick walls that line the town square. Candles and a small bouquet of flowers decorate the top of the table. As we walk toward it, Nick bends down to turn on a small speaker sitting at the base of the table. “Nothing Compares to You” by Sinead O’Connor starts playing through the speaker.
