Comments
by Java Mann
|
Fast
and Hard
Relationships have never
been easy for me. I fall fast and hard and often find myself alone and
hurt. I don’t play games, don’t get off on teasing or flirting for fun,
and I’m inherently honest, which doesn’t always lead to happiness. My brighter
readers already know where this is heading… |
 |
I met a guy not long ago.
He’s not a stranger; he’s someone I’d seen out and about many times. We’ve
exchanged polite hellos and casual conversation, but I never thought much
of it because he was obviously part of a couple. This time he was alone.
A word in my defense: I did not set out to pick him up, though in reflection,
I’m not sure which of my heads was doing the thinking. I cannot claim to
be not naïve. I knew where things were heading.
We discussed music, movies,
his job (he’s in a "caring" profession") my new job, and various other
topics. He ran out of cigarettes so I shared mine. I’d bought a pitcher
of beer and we finished it together. He asked where I lived and I told
him. He asked if we could go there after the bar closed… The details you’re
anticipating will not be forth coming. I’ll just say the rest of the night
was rather romantic.
And now we come to the crux
of my situation: He still lives with "the other half". I don’t know the
details of their relationship and I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I know
they’ve been together for a quite some time, but I don’t know if they’re
roomies, casual lovers or in it for the long haul. I have my suspicions
as I don’t have his phone number…
They were out tonight, together.
I ran into them at the watering hole. It was, in a word, awkward. I do
not have a poker face, and the bartender was concerned for my health as
I turned "white as a ghost". Ever the master of discretion, I ordered a
beer and change for the pool table and disappeared into the back room,
praying that the floor would open up and swallow me. Or that they would
leave. Neither happened.
I’m not sure if it was bravery,
common sense, or the beer working, but I finally returned to the bar. I
sat there alternating between ignoring them and trying to catch his eye.
Thankfully friends came in and I joined them.
They (the couple) moved to
the pool table, and a friend who was with them engaged me in conversation
as they walked by. I spoke casually with them, mostly out of the fear that
failing to do so might imply guilt. When I got a chance to speak to him
privately, I told him I’d been thinking about him and asked him to call
me.
Flamer moment: though I didn’t
play it myself, when the jukebox played Celine Dion’s "To Love You More",
I might have lip synched it blatantly in his direction.
As the night wore on, his
party took the table next to mine. A few minutes later everyone in my party
got up and headed out. (I hate them, I hate them all!) My choices were
to join his party or look a fool. I did the most reasonable thing. I fled.
So here I sit. Alone. My
goal is not to break up anyone’s happy home. The logical part of my mind
knows that the best thing I can do is walk away. I have no respect for
people who set out to steal another person’s boyfriend. I’m not that desperate.
I have no intention of being the "other woman".
Ah, but I fall fast and hard
and often find myself alone and hurt…
JM
|
