by Tiana Laveen
“Great. I got that Emerson contract. That’s good for the next twelve months.”
“Oh, awesome, Darryl. I know you’ve wanted that for a while. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I did, yup. So how about you? How’s work overall?”
“Work has been kicking my ass like it’s a sport. You know I love it though… having my own shit, man? Nothing compares. This is my company, you know?” He tossed up his hand and Darryl nodded in agreement. “I worked so hard for this and to see it actually happening is just amazing. You know, speaking of which, I have some more contracts just sitting there… gotta get to them. Business is booming, as they say.”
“That’s good!”
“It is, definitely. I’m not complaining, just trying to keep up. I am going to hire a few more people; there’s just no way around it. Anyway, how’s everything at work as far as the job I did at Tele? Any issues with any of the work I did there a couple of years ago? He never responded to my follow up emails.”
“Not at all. I’m still impressed and you did an excellent job, too. I knew when I recommended you to my old boss he’d be happy, and he’s hard to please. Oh, and he was always real bad at email.”
Darryl was a software architect who worked part time for a Fortune 500 company, as well as engaged in other lucrative contract work. He was one of the best in his field and what Tristan loved most about his friend was his clever mind, determined attitude, and easygoing nature. He trusted Darryl with his secrets about the failed relationships of his past, the jobs that hadn’t panned out but needed to help pay for college, the stress of trying to be the best all the time, and so much more. Tristan was his own worse competition. When he was bored with something, his actions showed it. When he was passionate, he’d work himself to the bone. That back and forth opened the door to him delving deeper, figuring out what he loved… and he found it, then started his company. Things weren’t easy, and Darryl knew it – watched him every step of the way and kept his confidences when the going got rough. Those secrets few knew, the ones that had kept him up at night, the ones that had hardened him and made it so difficult at times to step out on faith.
That’s why he relied so hard on the tried and true, the concrete promises of the world. He detested guesswork. Taking chances proved to be not only heartbreaking, but dangerous. He wished it weren’t so. He stood his ground, even when the floor was cracking and sinking into the abyss. Perhaps that was foolish—his horrible stubborn streak. Tristan craved to stand on solid soil, a bull sniffing out the freshly sprung grass on God’s vast green Earth. Nevertheless, something inside of him, like a tiny, vibrant light, a budding wondrous flower, would break out from a crack in that ground and try to force him out of his comfort zone, make him do what bulls do. Roam…
When he moved away from his comfort zone, the possibilities were endless.
“So, tell me more about this Carmen lady. Based on her first name, I would’ve thought she was Hispanic,” Darryl said.
“That’s just the thing. Nothing about her is as you’d think. See, she seems to have a fanciful, nostalgic part to her, and the other side is quite serious. She’s a people person. She cares about others but she has this kinda, ‘rage against the system’ mentality it seems, too.”
“Why do you think that?” Darryl’s expression turned grim. The man had put on his therapist hat, a common occurrence in their years of interactions.
“Well, the other day I was there, right, and I was waiting to get her permission to put in the sprinkler systems. She needed to sign off on the paperwork. She was in her office on the phone and she was telling someone that she would be at some protest for public breastfeeding. She also had a bunch of books on her shelf that I noticed when I redid her office. They were mixed in with the medical ones. These texts were all about oppression of women and stuff about Gloria Steinem. I flipped through a few, curiosity getting the best of me. It’s crazy shit. One book even described how women could procreate without men if they just put their minds to it.”
At this, Darryl burst out laughing.
“That’s a scary thought, man. If they don’t need the dick anymore, they may try to kill us off!” he joked.
“I know, right? They’ll ban together and turn on us, walk around with picket signs showing a big cock in a circle with a line through it, yelling, ‘Block! Tha! Cock!’ Or maybe, ‘No! Dern! Sperm!’” Darryl laughed so hard, Tristan could practically see the man’s tonsils. “It was idiocy, just shit I can’t understand but it’s ‘politically incorrect’,” he said, rolling his eyes and putting his fingers in quotes, “for me to say anything or ask questions. But I’ve got a shitload of questions for her, Darryl. I want to know why she is the way she is. What is she trying to prove? Does she really believe this shit and if so, why? It doesn’t make me want to leave her alone. It makes me want to find out more about her.”
Resistance makes me more persistent…
“She dresses like a doctor, but a little sexy, too. I want to know why she’s in her thirties looking good… real good… and single. I’m single by choice.” He pointed to himself. “She may be, too, but I don’t know that, you know?”
“Did you ask her about the books you saw?”
“In a roundabout way, yes. I asked her if she was a feminist the other day.”
“Uh, that’s not roundabout.”
“Well…” Tristan smirked. “I suppose you’re right, but I asked her, and she said, ‘I’m not sure, but I support the cause.’ And then she asked me, ‘Why?’”
“And what was your answer?”
“I told her the truth, that I saw the books. I didn’t say it in a judgmental way or anything; I think she was satisfied with that and I let it be known the actual original idea of a feminist I don’t take issue with; my problem is with the ones that bash men because we won’t bow down to them, the ones that say traditional values are for suckers, the ones that want to complain about gender roles but keep the aspects of those that benefit them. I’m a man and I expect to be treated as such, period.”
“Isn’t that the damn truth. Nobody wants a hard ass, Rambo lady, at least not me. I’m like you though; I encourage women to go after equal pay for the same job, things like that, speak their mind, but there’s nothing wrong with us wanting a gentle mate, and not someone that acts just like us. I don’t want to have to compete with my spouse, especially not in my own home.”
“Exactly. She confuses me. I am usually drawn to people I can understand because there’s some certainty that I can depend on. But with her, she feels all over the place.”
Thoughts of her bucking against him turned him on, visions of them engaged in a heated argument then ravishing one another… “It’s almost like… well, she’s the type of woman that I need but have not admitted to wanting, until now. I hate to say this, but she messes with my mind a little, makes me think about things I never cared about, in a good way… like this whole feminism business. I actually have been reading a bit about it online. Crazy, right? I can’t figure out if she’s coming or going. So, what do you think? Have I bitten off more than I can chew? I really like her though, man.” He sighed in exasperation.
“So, here’s how I see it and jump in and tell me if I’m on track. You’re fascinated by her diversity. Not just her race, but her personality is unconventional and her behavior is not foreseeable. She changes on any given day, am I right?”
“Correct. Not like in a schizophrenic sort of way, but just when I think I have her pegged, she gives me an answer or says something that throws me completely off. Most people have a line of predictability, though it varies obviously from person to person. Not this lady. Things as simple as curtain treatments for me to tell the designers, for example. I predict she’ll want one thing based on her previous ideas and our discussions, and come to find out, she’s comfortable with my original idea that I may not have shared with her until she showed opposition.”
“Okay, got it. She’s got stereotypical feminine tones to h
er persona and look. A very feminine, nice, soft voice and all that jazz but then there’s this hard edge to her, like her being on the phone ready to go march. You find it baffling but then there is what you were talking about before, her love of old things. She clings to old stuff from the past, but is struggling to move into the future… Yet, she seems to push herself anyway, right? Does that last part sound familiar Tristan? Anyone you know?”
Darryl smirked at him.
“Does it remind you of a certain someone that is playing an old mixed CD right this second, one I had forgotten about, one that I’d made him back in the day? Is it the same guy who has a book full of old report cards and handwritten love letters from his first girlfriend in 6th grade and, of course, the same man who has a photo album chock full of leftover panties he’d collected in his dorm room during your early years of knockin’ the collegiate boots?”
Tristan looked at his friend for a long while. This simply couldn’t be!
That’s me… he just described ME! Holy shit! I don’t hold on to old items as much as I hold on to old ideas that have served me well, though. They make me feel stable, secure. Past events are bricks, a road to build and guide my path, so I know where I’m going. She and I may be more alike than I thought…
“Shit… you came up with all of that from just my ramblings?” They both chuckled at that. “You’re a genius.”
“Yeah, I did, but I think you already knew this, Tristan.” Darryl’s smile faded. “I know you, man… you’re my boy. To me, this makes sense. I’m on the outside looking in, but I can see why someone like you would be attracted to someone like her. Just because you like to work without surprises, as you say, doesn’t mean you want a relationship like that, too. Your job requires anticipation and an obvious answer. You talk to your clients and predict the best course of action. With relationships, especially romantic ones, that’s not always the way it goes though. It’s complicated. You’re so complex that what you thought you wanted isn’t what you’ve wanted at all. And remember, there is a rhythm of predictability in irregularity, too. Just because she’s hard to read doesn’t mean she’s unstable. I know permanency is important to you too, it always has been, but you crave someone that keeps you guessin’, too. I think that’s been your whole problem, actually.”
“What do you mean? How so?”
“Case in point, man.” Darryl cracked his knuckles as if ready to get down to business. “How long was your longest relationship?”
“Uh.” Tristan scratched his beard as he searched his memory bank. “About two years… Shauna. That ended three years ago.”
“Right, Shauna… the model from Ireland. Look, most of your relationships have been six months or less and it probably only worked out with Shauna for that long because it was long distance and you said she could suck the paint off a house shingle.” Tristan had to laugh at that. “You get bored easily, man. That’s not to say that’s bad, you just don’t want someone who is wild and crazy and unpredictable. Since you asked for my opinion, I’m going to give it. You need someone who is naturally more inclined to do things you’re not accustomed to, someone who challenges your status quo but softens the blows you get, too. You’re a collector of ideas, and who better can fuel that passion inside of you than someone who totally defies your norm? It’ll keep you on your toes and maintain your interest, that’s for sure. Your core values must match somewhat but everything else is up for grabs. Get to know her, man… Go on that date.”
“Hmmm, you know? I never really thought about it like that. Maybe you’re right. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Nah, that’s not it, man. I don’t think I get bored easily, but—”
“You do!” Darryl countered. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. After that two or three-month mark, your eye starts wandering.”
Tristan stared at his friend, flabbergasted. He’d never thought of himself this way; in fact, the accusation made him feel prickly and uneasy inside. According to his sister though, this was one of his greatest flaws. Just that morning they’d gotten into a rather heated argument when he told her a few things she didn’t quite appreciate…
“Tristan, you can say some of the meanest shit to me but when I say something back, you have the nerve to be appalled! You perceive yourself in some grand light but others are small in your eyes, in need of your judgement. I’m sick of it!”
After a few moments of deliberation, he realized how right she was…
What is wrong with me?
Darryl’s analysis was hard-hitting. It sure as hell would explain a lot. There’d been a bit of cheating here and there, the result of disinterest. He wasn’t happy about it, but it had happened and he finally needed to ask himself why.
“So, her being different may be a good thing. You told me just a couple of months ago that you were ready to settle down… that you were tired of the dating apps, the online subscriptions, meeting women at the bars, all that jazz.”
“I am sick of it, Darryl. I’m getting too old for this shit.” With a huff, he fell back against the couch and briefly closed his eyes. “Do you know how many women are out here playing games? Who has time for that? Can I vent for a second?”
“I ain’t got nothing but time.” Darryl smiled wide and threw up his hands.
“The catfishing, the lying, the women who don’t put out, the ones who sleep around and don’t care who they give it up to, the women who may not have been born women but you can’t tell from the photo online and they don’t tell you until you’re on the phone and ask them, why is their voice so fuckin’ deep?! I’m sick of being politically correct, I’m sick of walking on eggshells. I like breasts – big ones! I like ass! I want the woman to be funny, but she doesn’t have to be a regular ol’ comedian. And attractive; I need to look at this woman for the next forty plus years. Also, someone who can stimulate my mind. I don’t want a nun and I don’t want a whore. Why is this so hard to obtain?! You’d think I was out here searching for who killed John F. Kennedy or trying to find proof that the Loch Ness Monster is real! I just want a good woman! Just one! Just! One!”
He didn’t miss how Darryl’s lower lip quivered as he suppressed a laugh during his rant. But his pent up rage was finally pouring out from a place of regret, anger, and pain.
“I go into work, I am there anywhere from twelve to fifteen hours a day, sometimes longer. I am on and off site, working, working, working. I get home and am exhausted. I pour a glass of something, get cleaned up, drink some more, get into a cold, empty bed with some leftover dinner or delivery, and sleep alone unless I’ve brought someone home. But even then… it’s not right. There’s no commitment because that’s not what I wanted… with them.”
“All right, okay,” Darryl stated calmly. “You and I talk at least once a week, man, and I haven’t seen you this upset about something in a long time. I know you were kind of being funny too, but I can tell you mean it. You told me you were ready to settle down but, I mean, how long have you been actively searching to meet someone that was to your liking?”
“I have been trying to find the right woman for at least a year now. I’m tired, man. The drama goes on and on.” He paced himself, trying to catch his breath. It felt good to get that shit off his chest.
“Why didn’t you ask me to hook you up? Katie has a bunch of single friends.”
“I don’t want that.” He waved the guy off. “I’m just funny that way. I’d rather find her on my own. If it doesn’t work out then it can make all the people who know both parties feel awkward. Anyway, you’re so lucky you’re not in the dating world right now, Darryl. It sucks. Maybe I’m too fucking picky.”
“You are.” The man raised his drink to his lips. “But you’ve got the right to be.”
He nodded, though at times he wasn’t so certain anymore.
“Yeah, I am picky, but it’s not unreasonable. I’ll meet someone, but there’s no chemistry. Or, I meet someone, she’s attractive, but she’s dumb as a stack of bricks. Fuck that shit.” He waved his h
and angrily in the air. “I want someone who brings her own shit to the table, looks good, knows how to have a conversation, is open to what I have to offer… and can screw! I want to be fucked with no shame… by a woman who’s not worried about her hair being a mess or concerned that she’s sweating or making an ugly face when I make her cum… none of that. Some good pussy and head every now and again would be nice. Is that too much to ask? Tell me if I’m off the mark here.”
At this, Darryl almost sprayed his drink when he broke into laughter.
“Tristan, man, you’re somethin’ but I don’t see even one lie in what you’ve said. Shit, you and I are alike that way.”
“It paid off with you having a mother that’s a marital counselor, huh? You know all the right things to say to me.” Tristan chuckled.
“It definitely helped me as far as recognizing a quality woman and finding someone I got along with well once I was ready to settle down. Katie wasn’t feeling me like that when we first met, you know that. We’d just recently graduated college, I was young, but I knew what I liked. She was what I wanted. She’s a good woman… I had to have her.”
Thoughts of his best friend and the man’s wife filled his mind. Katie was indeed a good woman. Friendly, outgoing, bubbly and sweet….
“I love Katie. She’s like a sister to me.”
“I know you do. She feels the same about you.”
“That I’m like a sister to her?” Tristan joked.
Darryl shook his head.
“Crazy… anyway, remember now, you told me you wanted what Katie and I have… that forever thing.” They looked at one another, reaching a quiet understanding. “From our much overdue talk tonight, it looks like you’re serious about this. It’s not some phase. So, this Carmen, she’s different, right?” Darryl crossed his ankles. “You obviously see something in her that you can’t let go of, something that calls to you. You wanted my opinion? I say go for it. Don’t question or doubt your decision. You want this or you wouldn’t have asked her out in the first place.”
