"I, uh—"
"You were busy. I get it," I interrupt.
"Why are you getting shitty with me? It's not like I was cheating on you," he replies defensively.
I'm about to rip into him when a loud slap echoes through his apartment followed by a grunt.
It's. Still. On.
Reaching for the remote, I stop just short of picking it up. I'm not sure I want to touch it. I’m not sure I want to touch anything in this apartment right now, including my boyfriend. Instead, I turn and walk out the door, slamming it behind me.
He won't come running after me. He can’t, not in his condition.
It’ll be at least an hour before I hear from him. That’s if he turns that shit off and gets himself together. It’ll be much longer if he watches until the end of the movie.
Why? Why would he feel the need to watch that smut? It's not like we don't fool around. Sure, we haven't had sex yet, but it's only been a few months. I wanted to wait until I was sure about him. Now, I'm not sure I want to be with him at all.
He's going to call, but I'm not going to answer. This isn't the first time I've walked in on one of my boyfriends in a compromising situation. Normally, the person is real and in the same room. Sometimes on her knees, others riding him like a bucking bronco.
Cheating, I'm used to. Had I walked in on him with another woman, I would have done what I normally do. Let him know I'm there, scare the shit out of her a little, offer to join, which freaks him out, then grab his dick and twist until he apologizes. To me and to her. They're always naive. They never know about me until the last second. Or at least that's what they claim.
Both times it's brought me great pleasure.
They knew not to call the next day. It was over, and I made sure that fact was perfectly clear before I walked out the door. I also made sure they didn't have the option of calling me by deleting my number from their phone before I chucked it against the wall, smashing it into pieces.
If they bought more expensive phones, shit like that wouldn't happen. Or even a protective case. Not that I wouldn't remove it from the case first.
Blue and red lights flash in my rear-view mirror. Looking down, I'm going sixty miles per hour, and I'm pretty sure it's only forty through here. At least that’s what I normally drive through here. It could be a school zone for all I know.
Pulling over, I let out an exasperated sigh. This is not what I needed today. Work was awful. Then walking in on Ben choking his chicken to porn. Now I'm going to get a ticket I can't afford. I need a do-over.
"License and registration," the officer says as she approaches the window.
Handing her my information, she tells me to wait and returns to her car. She's going to run my name and find nothing. I'm a good citizen. I normally follow the letter of the law. Today just isn't my day.
"Where are you headed in such a rush, Miss?" she asks, handing me my paperwork back a few minutes later.
"As far away from my boyfriend as possible," I mutter.
"Is everything all right?"
Why does she care? Sure, I probably look a hot mess. I haven't allowed myself to cry yet; the anger is still present. It'll happen eventually but not until I let it.
"Fine. I'm just not happy with him at the moment." I say. Before I can stop myself, the words are out of my mouth. "Can I ask you something?"
"I guess."
"What is it with men and porn? Do they expect us to look like that? Act like that?"
The officer smiles at me and leans forward. "They're perverts. All of them. Seriously, though. Some men enjoy watching it, others find it repulsive. Women, too. I'm guessing you caught him in a compromising situation."
"Yep. And there was no way for him to hide it. I had sixty inches of a woman’s ass in my face when I walked through his front door."
"I can't tell you what to do in this situation, but my husband enjoys porn from time to time. It doesn't bother me because I know if he wants the real thing, I'm the one he chooses. Think about it. And slow down," she replies, pushing away from my car.
"Thanks, officer."
"If you want better advice, ask Maggie."
"Who the hell is Maggie? Ma'am," I say, clearing my throat. I don't want her to think I was disrespecting her by swearing.
"Dear Maggie. The advice column in the Daily News. Check it out. If nothing else, you'll get a good laugh sometimes. That's why I read it."
Nodding, she waves as she walks back to her cruiser and I pull back onto the road. Watching my speed the rest of the way home, I contemplate her suggestion.
Do I ask a stranger for advice?
How would I even word that?
What would she say?
I know porn is a natural thing for some people. I'm just not one of them. Call me a prude if you will, but my mama raised me to respect my body. That includes not showing it to people who haven't earned the right to see it. Porn stars have everything on display. Everything.
2
Pulling up the Daily News on my tablet, I read the last few weeks of columns. They're good. The advice she gives is good. Some of it’s a little cynical to be honest, but still, it’s good advice.
She sounds like me.
I always say what's on my mind. You never have to wonder what I'm thinking. I'm brutally honest. If I hurt your feelings, I'll apologize. Not for what I said but because I hurt your feelings. I'm entitled to my opinion as much as the next person, and I will never apologize for speaking my mind.
Four drafts later, I finally decide to submit my question. There's no guarantee it'll be chosen. In fact, there's a better chance it won't. I can only imagine how many people submit each week. No one's love life is perfect. We all need a little advice from time to time.
Who better to ask than the local expert?
Dear Maggie
Love – Relationships – Dating
Ask me anything. I'll give you my honest opinion.
The next morning, Ben calls, but I'm not ready to talk to him yet. I stare at my phone, his face smiling back at me, until the call is sent to voicemail. When he doesn't leave a message, I'm surprised.
Is he giving up?
Is that it for our relationship?
If all it takes is one missed call for him to call it quits, this isn't going to work. I like him. Sure, I'm upset about what I walked in on yesterday, but it hasn't changed the way I feel about him. We can work through this, I'm just not sure how to right now. I need time, and I hope he understands that.
Maybe I should text him?
Just as the thought crosses my mind, my screen lights up again. He's calling for the second time in less than a minute.
At least he hasn't given up on us. Unless he's calling to break things off. Whatever. If that's the case, I'll deal with it when the time comes. For now, I need to figure out how I feel about what I walked in on.
Turning my phone off, I grab my bag and head out. I have class in a few hours and plenty of studying to keep me busy. The library is my home away from home. Anytime I need to focus, I find a corner and set up shop. It’s easier for me to study there than anywhere else. Once my roommates wake up, our apartment will be alive with noises.
As soon as Angie is awake, the blender will be in high gear making protein shakes for everyone. Jill will insist on cooking breakfast, not a talent she possesses but is attempting to master anyway. Pots and pans will clang, and the smoke alarm will more than likely blare, followed by screams of surprise by everyone.
Then there's Leigha. I swear she's partially deaf. She always has headphones in, but her music can be heard clearly by anyone within five feet of her. Death metal or rock. The kind of music you never really know the words to unless you look them up.
Too much noise. Too many distractions. I prefer the library. It offers endless hours of blissful silence.
To my dismay, my favorite seat is taken when I arrive. Looking around, most of the seats I prefer are already taken this morning. I'm not surprised. Fridays tend to be a
busy day for the library. Everyone’s attempting to complete assignments so they can party all weekend.
At least that's normally my game plan.
Heading back toward the entrance, I spot an area that's unoccupied. Getting ready to set up, the loud squeak of the front door opening draws my attention. This seat's not going to work, I think as I turn to see who's walking in.
Shit!
What the hell is Ben doing here?
He hates the library.
Dropping to the floor as quickly as I can, I shift under the table and watch as he talks to the librarian, Shelly, at the front desk. I waved to her when I walked in a few minutes ago. She's always really helpful and I find it brings a smile to her face when I say hello, so I make it a point anytime I see her.
He's describing me if I'm reading his hand gestures correctly. Yes, I fit under his chin. My hair falls just below my showers. I have a tattoo on the inside of my wrist.
Damn it. I just showed her my new tattoo last week. She's obviously a book lover, so I knew she would appreciate it.
She points toward the back of the library where I normally seclude myself. As soon as he’s out of sight, I slide out from under the table but stand too quickly. I crack the top of my head on the table and let out a yelp that echoes over the soft hum of murmurs.
Shelly looks in my direction and shakes her head. I give her the thumbs up to let her know I'm okay, and she nods. Her eyes grow big a few seconds later, and she starts motioning for me to get back under the table. I'm still dizzy from hitting my head, so I let myself fall to the floor and crawl under, sitting up once I'm sure I won't attempt to knock myself out again.
Ben stops to talk to Shelly again, handing her a piece of paper. Once he's out the door, she walks over and helps me out from under the table, shielding my head when I attempt to push to my feet too early again.
"Is he a stalker? Should I be worried?" she asks, helping me into a chair.
"Nah. It's my boyfriend," I reply, rubbing my head.
Shelly parts my hair around where I hit it and checks me out. There's a bump and my head is throbbing, but I didn't cut it. It’s going to be sore for a few hours.
"Do I want to know why you were hiding from him?"
"It's a long story."
"What’s the short version?"
"I caught him watching porn yesterday, and it weirded me out."
Covering her mouth, Shelly giggles softly. "I can only imagine the look on his face."
"He may have been more embarrassed than I was," I admit, smiling at her. "Thanks for your help."
"Anytime, Gigi. He asked me to give this to you," she says, handing me Ben's note before walking away. "Take a few aspirin and put some ice on that bump when you get home."
I've been spinning Ben's note on the tabletop for an hour. I'm not sure if I want to read it or not. I have other things I should be focused on. For example, the test I have in thirty minutes. Or that the only thing I've cracked since walking in the library is my head. My books are still in my bag.
Knowing I need to get my head on straight before my test, I tuck the note into my pocket and grab my bag. I'm not going to get any studying done here. By the time I review everything, my professor will be handing out the exam. I might as well set up in the lecture hall.
I'm not the only person who had that thought, though. Many of the seats are already taken, including the one I normally sit in. Her back is to me, but I know exactly who's in my chair, and she knows exactly what she's doing.
It's no surprise she ignores me when I walk up and take the seat next to her. She continues staring at her notes, reading them over and over again. I pull mine out and do the same, placing my book and my phone in my lap. I've set it to silent, but I know it's going to ring in a minute.
Her curiosity is strong. She won't be able to look away from the screen when it lights up. When she does, Ben's face will be the first thing she sees. That should be enough to get her to vacate my spot before the test begins. There's nothing like seeing your ex-boyfriend on another girl’s phone to get you good and angry. At least that's what I'm hoping.
Like clockwork, my phone lights up and Ben's face appears. When I look over, Carrie is still focused on her notes. My plan is not working, and now I'm the one that's upset. She's in my lucky chair and after the day I've had so far, I could use a little luck to make it through this test.
"I'm over him, you know. You can stop trying to rub it in my face. You can have him." Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard, high pitched and annoying.
I'm not sure what he saw in her. Sure, she has a nice rack. I'm sure they cost her daddy a fortune, too. When she's not being a complete bitch and making nasty comments, she seems like she might actually be fun to hang out with.
On second thought, I've never seen her outside of bitch-mode, so I doubt she's any fun.
"That's great for you. It's about time," I praise, mimicking her voice the best I can. I'll never be able to get my voice as high as hers.
"Rude much?" she asks, finally tearing her eyes away from her notes to look in my direction.
"Not often. Only when it comes to you or when someone else starts it."
"And how exactly did I start this?"
"You know exactly why I'm upset right now. So, if you could be so kind and to remedy the situation, I'll be especially pleasant to you from across the room."
"Whatever, bitch," she replies, sweeping her hair off her shoulder while she rolls her eyes at me.
If our exam wasn’t about to start, I would drag her by her fake blond strands outside and beat the shit out of her. No, no I wouldn't. I want to, but I would never follow through with it. I know myself too well. The second I stood up and reached for her hair, I would freak out and sit back down.
That's me.
For the most part, I hate confrontation. I'm not the bad ass I try to sound like. I'm a skinny white girl who never learned how to fight in school. I never had to.
The professor saves me from having any more fantasies about growing a pair of balls by walking in and announcing the start of the exam. Picking up all my things, I go to place them in my bag when I notice Carrie's crowded into my area, on purpose. So, I purposely drop my book on her perfectly manicured toes, causing her to scream.
"Oops," I apologize and shrug my shoulders.
"Carrie, why don't you move across the aisle? You two don't need to sit so close together. There are plenty of available seats in this room as some of your classmates have chosen not to show up today."
Sliding me an evil glare, Carrie grabs her things and moves across the aisle to take her new seat. I hop into my seat and say a little prayer that I don't bomb my exam.
Gigi, I know you're avoiding me. Please call me back.
Babe. We need to talk about this. Call me.
Good luck on your exam. Call me when you're done so we can talk.
How about dinner? I'll pick you up. Call me to let me know what time.
Gigi. I can't do this anymore. I'm sick of talking to your voicemail. Please call me back.
Listen. I'm sorry you had to walk in on that. It's not what you think, but you won't give me a chance to explain. Take the weekend to think about things and call me on Sunday night. I should be home from work about seven. Please call me, Gigi.
Ben's voicemails almost bring me to tears. I shouldn't have listened to them between classes. I had to duck into the ladies’ room and splash some water on my face to regain my composure. Now my mascara is running and the last thing I want to focus on is my professor talking about American History.
My weekend is spent hiding out in my room. My roommates had people over Friday and Saturday night. They partied until the early hours of the morning, keeping me awake with my thoughts.
Do I call him? How do I explain my freak out? Is he going to break up with me?
When Sunday morning finally rolls around, I wait patiently for the Dear Maggie column to go live. I need advice. I need someone who doesn't know me to
tell me what I need to do. I'll listen to whatever she has to say. I'll give anything a shot.
After all, she's the expert on love. Not me. I'm a blubbering idiot when it comes to relationships.
* * *
Gigi,
* * *
I hate to say it, but porn is as natural to some men as breathing. It's a part of their life. If your relationship is still in the infant stages, maybe this is his way of not pressuring you to move things to the next level. You should call him, talk about it, and find a way to resolve the underlying fear that you have. I can't tell you what you should say, but I'm confident that once the conversation is started, you'll know what needs to be said. Above everything, be honest with him.
* * *
~Maggie
* * *
Is she defending him? I get that guys watch porn. I'm not an idiot. My roommate watches porn with her boyfriend. I'll never understand that, but it's not my business, so I don't need to. What I want to know is what to say to him. This is the most generic answer I've ever heard. So much for her advice helping me.
I'll know what to say.
Be honest with him.
Talk about it.
Damn it! I know I need to talk to him, but I was hoping she might shed some light on what to say. If I knew what needed to be said, I wouldn't have written in and asked her.
My anger grows as I reread the columns from the last few weeks. Her vibe has changed. She went from happy and enthusiastic to cynical a few weeks ago. Then is says she took a vacation and from what I can tell, she lost her mojo while she was on whatever beach she dented with her ass.
I'm tempted to comment on the column but I can't come up with something witty enough to make an impression. "Thanks for nothing" just won't cut it. I'll think of something, but for now, I'm stuck trying to figure this shit out on my own.
When seven o'clock rolls around, I don’t know if I’m ready to call Ben. The worst that can happen is he answers. Maybe I should have called earlier. Then it would have at least looked like I tried. Now, if I don't call him, I might be throwing our relationship out the window. The relationship I've fought hard for since the beginning.
Dating Dilemma Page 14
