“How can I enjoy your being there if I know you’d rather be at Disney World?”
“Dom, of course I’d rather be at Epcot with my buddies than at some church with a bunch of people I’ll never see again. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because … you’d also be with me.”
“I’m with you all the time! Lately I’ve barely seen my brothers at all.”
“Yeah, but it’s already August. Three more weeks and we may never see each other again, either!”
Guy turns away, and we both fall silent. I feel like we’re back on our third date, sparring at Bantam Beach about the state of our relationship. It’s sick how you can be intimate with someone one minute and then be furious with that same person the next.
After an interminable lull, Guy says, “Listen, can we just leave this till tonight? I need to pick up my parents soon.”
I realize that if he were a real boyfriend, I’d be going with him to meet them.
“That cool, Dom?”
“I guess it’ll have to be,” I say bitchily, hardly recognizing my own voice. I guess Guy’s confounded, too, since he throws up his hands.
“I don’t get this. Dom, I told you I’d be happy to stay in town for that wedding. Screw Disney World, okay? I can go anytime. I want to be with you. What more do you want from me?”
The truth is I’m not sure. As dreadful as our Bantam Beach fight was, at least it made sense. We had opposing points of view, and we argued them. But here, I don’t know what I’m arguing about. I only know that everything feels wrong now. Maybe it’s because all this is taking me back to my first night home during Thanksgiving break when my high school boyfriend chose to hang out with his old track teammates rather than being alone with me. That was a completely different situation than this, though. My ex’s actions showed that his feelings for me were fading. Guy’s feelings have remained constant throughout.… Have mine?
“Don’t worry about it, Guy. I don’t mean to hold you up. You can let yourself out. Happy Birthday.”
I jerk our plates away and go back inside toward the kitchen.
“C’mon, Dom, don’t be like that.… Dom? Dom? Dom!”
I can hear that Guy’s following behind me. I just don’t realize how closely.
“What?” I squawk, but as I spin around, the plate in my right hand collides straight into his dick.
“OW! FUCK!” Guy cups his groin with his hands and folds to the floor like a slinky. “FUCK! SHIT!”
“Oh, no!”
He keeps swearing as I set down the plates and dart to the freezer for a bag of peas. I try to hand it to him to use as an ice pack, but he bats it away. Then he just lies there in the fetal position, with tears in his eyes.
I kneel down by his bright purple face. I feel terrible that I hurt him. I also feel terrible that a part of me finds this extremely funny. I guess I gave him blue balls after all.
“I’m so sorry, Guy.” I stifle my giggles. “Can I do anything?”
He doesn’t respond, and he looks so ghastly that I start to worry he may need a doctor. But within the minute he stops sounding like he’s going to hyperventilate, and soon his complexion returns to normal. He takes another minute to inch off the ground to a sitting position, and then to his feet. Finally he hobbles toward the foyer, hefts his duffel bag over his shoulder, and turns back to me.
“I’m going to the airport now,” he announces in a slight falsetto.
“Go ahead. Again, I feel really bad. Are we … okay?”
He makes a face like I just asked the dumbest question on earth, which I guess I did. Then I pose another. “Do you want help to your car?”
“No!” His eyes widen fearfully. “Just … stay where you are.”
“Well … when will we talk again? We need to.”
“Just let me get through this thing with my parents. Then I’ll catch you tonight, okay?”
“Okay. Tonight.”
He shuffles out the door.
I have no idea whether we’re still “together,” whatever that means, not that it really matters this late in the game. And since there’s nothing I can do about him now, I just go about washing my bedsheets and trolling the apartment for ripped condom wrappers. When I get to the kitchen, which is littered with the remains of my extravagant brunch spread, I think how Belgian waffles and smoothies are like the morning-after equivalent of candles and rose petals. Considering all the trouble I put into preparing this feast, it might appear that I have fallen in love with Guy, which I knew from the start was a danger of continuing to see him.
But I’m not in love with Guy. I can feel I’m not. I don’t even like like him as much as I used to, especially ever since he slammed having committed relationships at our age, not to mention parenthood at any age. My neuroscience textbook said that sex causes females to get high levels of the hormone oxytocin, which is called the “cuddle chemical” because it bonds you with your partner, inducing you to snuggle, feel safe, and nest. So even if you’re not in love, you may behave like you are. I should’ve foreseen that playing house with Guy all weekend would only feed that delusion.
I continue cleaning the apartment while trying to work out in my mind exactly what happened this morning and what to say to Guy tonight. Then, as I’m taking out the garbage, Dad texts me that he and Mom should be home within the hour. I’d been planning on going fishing with them this afternoon, since I missed three of the last five Sundays, but I can’t face them now. As if I weren’t already completely thoughtless for not helping them find a new home, now I had to go and use their old home for a fuck-fest.
I end up fleeing to the Braffs. On the way, I recall Amy’s news about her maybe spending next summer as a camp counselor with Joel. I assumed my unenthusiastic reaction had to do with Amy not staying true to herself by letting her life revolve around her relationship. But maybe I was mad because, given the choice, I’d switch places with her in a heartbeat.
21
“I came up with a conclusion to my ‘experiment,’ ” I tell Amy while lounging on her Papasan chair. “Sex for sex’s sake can be fun, but it’s not always fulfilling. Big surprise.”
“At least you’re having sex,” Amy says from her easel, where she’s painting an acrylic portrait of Matt and Brie for their present. “All weekend Joel’s away on a counselors retreat to some marshland with no cell signal, so we can’t even sext.”
“Guy and I aren’t right for each other, but being with him felt so good that I kept wanting him more and more. It gets confusing wanting someone without loving him.”
“I don’t know—that pretty much describes every hookup I’ve ever had pre-relationship.”
“But it’s like I’ve put my brain on hold these last two weeks so I could concentrate on being sexual. Now there’s this disconnect between what I’m feeling deep down and what I’m doing.”
“Dom, nothing tragic happened. Your whole motivation for riding the Beta train was to have an adventure and enjoy it while it lasted. Mission accomplished!”
“It was a mistake, though, asking Guy to the wedding again after we got back together. I just thought I’d milk having a boyfriend for all its benefits, you know? I didn’t want to get physical with him if we couldn’t act like a real couple, too.”
“This is why, before Joel, I never limited myself to only one boy toy at a time. Then there’s less room to get possessive and cling to a fling.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t all have throngs of boys banging down our door, Ames. And even if I did, I think I’d still prefer to have just one guy I can be with totally instead of lots of guys I’d be with just partly.”
“Personally, I’d prefer a combination of both.” Amy sets down her brush and looks back at me. “So, does all this mean you’d like me to tell Brie-dzilla you’re now going stag?”
I nod. “Even without the whole Disney World thing, I think it would still be better if I fly solo. Otherwise, Guy would be just another ex for someone to ask me about later on.”
/>
“Remember, Dom, you don’t need a boy to have fun at a stupid wedding. We’ll be together.”
“I know. I was just excited not to be dateless. But what was I so worried about?” I look over at the portrait, where Amy perfectly captured Brie’s self-satisfied smirk. “Like being dateless is really the worst thing in the world.”
I’m still at Amy’s that night when Guy texts me that he’s back at Ford and I can come over if I’d like. Twenty minutes later I’m ringing the Beta house door. I’m expecting things to be tense and weird, so I’m relieved when he greets me with a kiss and says he’s glad I’m here.
“So, how was being with your parents?” I ask when we get to his room.
“Bearable, mostly. They were really nice to visit me. But I’m really glad they’re gone.”
That makes us both laugh, and with the air sufficiently lightened, Guy bites the bullet first.
“So I went over it in my head, and I was an asshole to bring up Disney World. I just wasn’t thinking how it’d come off. You know I’d never deliberately hurt you.”
I smile. “Of course you didn’t mean anything bad, and I was the one who was out of line. I should’ve been nicer about everything, and I’m so sorry about, you know—” I waggle my right fist. “But that was an accident.”
Guy crosses his legs and nods. “Uh-huh, I blocked out that part.… It was a pretty freakin’ awesome weekend until then.” He grins.
“Yeah, but I don’t get to take up all your other weekends, too. You have a whole life separate from me, and I don’t want to keep you from spending time with your brothers—you pledged an oath of loyalty to them!”
“That doesn’t change that I promised to go with you to that wedding. And I still can.”
“No. I want you to get away with your friends. You haven’t had a real vacation all summer. Also, Amy said more people RSVP’d yes than they anticipated, so it’d actually be good if you don’t attend, so they can use your seat.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “All right, I’ll go to Orlando, but only if you’re cool with it.”
“I am.”
I leave out the biggest reason why Guy shouldn’t be my wedding date, which is that I have to stop pretending we’re something we’re not. Saying it would only ruin the mood again.
I set my purse down on his dresser like I always do when I get to his room, except now I pause at the Isaac Newton bobble head.
“If it’s true he avoided women, I wonder if he ever missed it.” I tap his face. “It must’ve been so isolating.”
“I don’t know. Sure, it’s extreme, but at least he didn’t have to worry about pissing them off.”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “It’s a trade-off.”
“Dom,” Guy says somberly, “what you said on the terrace about never seeing each other once school starts up … that’s extreme, too. You know I never wanted that.”
“But if you’re right that we’ll always be on different parts of the globe, maybe it’s unavoidable.”
“Okay, but even if that happens … we’ll still be, you know, friends, right?”
“Well … define ‘friends.’ ”
“Hey, that’s my line.”
“Seriously. A friend can be someone you speak to five times a day or once every five years.”
“Or something in between.”
“Hmm … How about all the other girls you’ve been with? Are you friends with them?”
Guy bites his lip. “Not all. One girl flat-out told me she could never be just friends with someone she did it with. If I’d known beforehand, I wouldn’t have done it with her—well, at least I would’ve thought twice. I don’t get why she was so ‘all or nothing’ about it.”
“It goes back to keeping things equal. Friendship feels really demeaning if one person still likes the other more, which is probably what caused the breakup in the first place. It’s such a misnomer that ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ have the word ‘friend’ in them.”
“I don’t know, Dom. It’s screwed up that people who dug each other enough to go out can’t at least stay friends afterward.”
“Spoken by a true love virgin.”
Guy shakes his head. “Anyway, all I’m saying is, I hope we’ll be friends. By any definition.”
I can’t think how to answer him honestly. In the beginning, I wanted his heart. Then I shifted focus to his body. I was never interested in only friendship.
Suddenly the Ford bell tower strikes eleven. I think we’re both calculating how that means I don’t have to be home for another two and a half hours.
“Wanna watch a movie?” Guy asks.
“Not particularly.”
“In the kitchen I have some leftover cake from the restaurant. Like some?”
“Not hungry.”
“How about a walk?”
“Too humid.”
“Well, we have Ping-Pong downstairs if you’re up for a game.”
“Not my thing.”
Guy fields several other options that I summarily shoot down. Finally I ask him what he’d like to do. “It’s your birthday, after all.”
“I bet you can guess what my first choice would be, but after everything, I don’t want to be the one to suggest it.”
“Well, would you even be up for it? How is, um …” I lower my gaze to his crotch.
“No permanent damage, I hope. Would you be up for it?”
I never would’ve predicted I’d be in the mood tonight, but I am. Maybe from having done it so much in Guy’s room, I’ve conditioned myself to feel that way when I’m here. Or maybe I want Guy and me to do something to counteract all the negativity from today. Also, Amy once told me that the hottest sex she ever had with Joel was after they argued. In their case, though, the issue was Joel getting upset that Amy let a guy friend pose nude in front of her so she could sketch him for her life drawing class.
I know this isn’t me, and I can’t keep doing this forever, but as long as I’m here …
I smile at Guy. “Well, I suppose we should check you out to see if everything’s okay.”
I sit on his lap and unzip his fly.
“Dom, you’re positive you want this?”
“Yes. Tonight, we’re not friends.”
We do it twice. Technically it’s good, but make-up sex or not, this morning’s reality check makes everything feel off. In an effort to keep things more strictly sexual than before, I’m constantly thinking to myself how Guy’s not so much a boyfriend as an activity partner or a “fuck buddy.” I never lean over to kiss him like I normally would. I even throw my head back so I don’t have to look at him, abandoning all thought of anything but me. I had assumed before that I could never touch myself in front of anyone else, but sex now kind of feels like I’m just masturbating with a guy. Then afterward, when Guy falls asleep while spooning me, things get bad.
I don’t know if it’s the weight of his arms, the narrow cinder-block walls, the sickly-green-colored lava lamp, or just the stale frat house air, but I feel like I’m suffocating. Even though there’s still time before curfew, I worm my way out of Guy’s hold and leave a new Word document on his desktop explaining that I needed to go and didn’t want to wake him. I think how we’ve come full circle since he did the same thing for me at the end of our first date. That makes tonight feel like a last date. I’m not sure how I feel about that except that I have to get out of here. I softly close Guy’s door behind me without looking back.
22
It seems like I’ve finally proven myself to my supervisor, because this week she begins allowing me to shadow doctors. Each day I get to observe various medical procedures, and I even sit in on some minor surgeries. But my favorite thing is simply following the physicians as they’re making their morning rounds. It’s so nice spending extended time with patients, when earlier in the internship, if I saw them at all, it was just to bring them their mail, gifts, or reading materials.
I don’t meet up with Guy this week because I have commi
tted to babysitting every evening, and with things picking up at the hospital, there’s not much chance to think about him. I do miss him, particularly when I’m in bed for the night. It turns out sex, like love, can be addictive—I actually feel my body going through withdrawal similar to when I cut out soda this year to lose weight. With every passing day, though, I begin yearning increasingly for the nonsexual stuff, like watching Star Wars on my terrace, having nerd talks, and especially cooking Guy his over-the-top birthday brunch. Doing things for someone else is what I love most about relationships, even more than having stuff done for me. But what Guy and I have is a non-relationship.
Amy claims that none of this means I can’t continue doing it with Guy, and I agree it seems like a pity not to keep enjoying him while I’m still in town. After Sunday night in his room when I all but ran away, though, just the idea of fooling around with him again feels more fake than fun.
Ultimately Guy and I make dinner plans at the sushi restaurant for Friday, when I intend to tell him that I’d like us to stop getting physical, at least for now, while I’m mixed up about everything. I’m not sure how I’m going to explain it to him, not that I owe him any explanation. It’ll probably be something to the effect that it wouldn’t be wrong if we still slept together, but it’d just be wrong for me. Before we can meet up, though, my supervisor phones with the news that the hospital is doing an emergency kidney transplant that night and I’ll be allowed to watch. When I call to tell Guy, he’s as excited for me as I am, and we postpone seeing each other until tomorrow. The operation is easily the coolest thing I’ve ever witnessed, and I am so happy afterward when the surgeons announce that both the organ donor and recipient are reacting well. I also feel happy for myself. I may not have found the right guy yet, but I have no doubts that I’m on the right career path.
On Saturday, however, I wake up feeling completely wrong. I’m languid and off-kilter, and by the afternoon I have a throbbing headache that the thunderstorm outside isn’t helping. So I down a bunch of vitamin C and zinc and cancel with Guy again, this time indefinitely, until I’ve fought off whatever’s the matter with me.
Anatomy of a Single Girl Page 14
