K__ has taken to asking if I’m ok a lot. She’s done so occasionally all along, but whether out of genuine concern for my well-being or ulterior motives relating to the ongoing health of her meal ticket / I__’s father-figure, I can’t really say.
I know deep down this up-tick is due to the revelation that I’m seeing someone. When she asks, I shrug and say, “yeah, I guess so” just like I always have. There’s still the impulse to return the query like our own little ritual of “fine thanks, how are you?” Some days I feel like I handle it gracefully, and then there’s most of the time.
She wondered aloud to me once whether we experience love the same way, and I quickly came to believe that we don’t. I don’t remember the last time, but for a long while I had the displeasure of wondering how to respond when she continued to sign off our phone conversations with “I love you.” I don’t remember the last time I returned the affection, and I sometimes catch myself wondering how different things might be if I faked it. There, of course, is a metaphor for our relationship that may be extended ad infinitum.
I dropped I__ off at her place this morning, and we stumbled through the exchange again. She asked about work, and I rattled off a scary list of projects I’m behind on. She asked about B__ and I deflected. She asked about some art I’ve been doing, congratulated me on all of it, said I must feel so successful. I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”
She said she was disappointed she’d not been called back on the temporary census-taker position she applied for even though she scored a 100 on the test. Said she had a small freelance project for a new client in nearby C__ town. Said she was reading some books on depression, which I take to mean she’s feeling depressed. She hinted at as much yesterday.
It’s hard to interpret much differently than: she finds out I’m not sitting at home depressed, but rather going out and doing exactly what I said I’d do, and sure enough I have, and sure enough I’ve met someone, and …
Wait. Am I actually supposed to care? This changes things how?
B__ called last night after her class got out around nine or ten, and I told her about some of the stuff from yesterday. She’s been freaking out a little off and on, worried I’ll be one of those guys who keeps promising a divorce is imminent, but never manages to finalize it. The resulting limbo a very convenient way to keep any further commitments from ever materializing.
I keep telling her that I understand that fear, though that scenario isn’t very likely with me. “When are you getting divorced,” she wants to know. And I don’t know, so that’s what I tell her, which is exactly the kind of thing she doesn’t want to hear. She asks (though not in these exact words) if I think it’s possible I’d get back together with her. And I’m not 100% sure, so that’s what I tell her, which is even more exactly the kind of thing she doesn’t want to hear. After it’s already said, I realize she’s focused on the point-oh-oh-oh-oh-one possibility she’ll get her heart returned to her via the ass end of a meat grinder. K__ would have to show she wants to make some pretty radical changes that I haven’t seen even a hint of a tiptoe towards. Not the assurance B__ needed either. I think she’s looking for something more like, “even if she showed up with a winning lottery ticket, a totally believable apology, a six-figure job, and a bulk jar of Prozac, I’d tell her to get her filthy shadow the hell off my doorstep.”
The conversation went on for about forty-five minutes, the whole thing an emotional mine-field. I realized I was through telling people I love what they want to hear, and that the likely end result would be that I end up both divorced and broken up with B__ before it’s said and done. Interestingly, I’m not in the least tempted to change my mind. Being alone sucks. A lot. But you can take some minor comfort in knowing you’ve got lots of company. Become someone’s gimp, and people just point and laugh.