“You need to stop, this is getting ridiculous.”
“What?”
“Checking your Face book, checking for the latest updates on Google. He’s not interested in you. He doesn’t know you exist.”
“Yes he does.”
“No he doesn’t. He answered one e-mail, and you never heard from him again. He’s not going to contact you. Let it go. Get a life.”
“You don’t know that. We made a connection. We have a lot in common.”
“No you don’t, any connection is a superficial one, the kind one makes when saying thank you to a stranger who holds a store door open for you. This is becoming obsessive. I hope you haven’t tried to find out where he lives.”
“No, not really.”
“Not really, what does that mean?”
“Well, I think I know where he lives, but I haven’t tried to go there, that’s way too stalker like. I just have this feeling that I’m going to hear from him again.”
“Yea, telling you to knock it off before he calls the police and gets a restraining order.”
“God, don’t be so cynical. Haven’t you seen all those movies where the couple knows each other for the longest time and eventually realizes they truly love each other?”
“I hate those types of movies, they make women seem so crazy and desperate. Real people don’t become involved with each other like that.”
“How do you know? It could happen.”
“No, it couldn’t.”
“You’re harshing my mellow.”
“You’re too old for that phrase. I have to go. Promise me you’ll consider what I’ve said. It isn’t healthy. You need to get out in the real world and meet real men. Men you can have an intelligent conversation with, men who know you exist.”
She leaves and I go to the bedroom and open the door. He’s on the bed on his side, tape across his mouth, hands tied behind his back. A blindfold encircles his eyes. I walk over to the bed and lay down next to him, wrapping my arm around his body.
“Are you ok?"
He moans softly and tries to get off the bed. I hold him tighter.
“Shhh, don’t move, just rest, you’re tired, you’ve had a rough day. Get some rest. I’m here now. We’re here. Together.”
