Progressing

“You can’t make me do this. I can’t be your lover and your confidant. Look. This is what you are to me: strong, confident, a validation. Do you know how many months I waited for you? Do you know how long you kept me waiting, not knowing if you were even slightly interested, before you made a move? I had to watch how you would interact with other women, you were so smooth about it and they were all about playing that game so they were smooth about it too. It wasn’t fun for me. Okay, so you tell me you weren’t interested in any of them, it was always me you were after – and I won’t lie to you, it made things all the better when we did finally get to spend some time together. And when we fucked, it was incredible. It still is, and I think that’s because we haven’t gone to this place…but I can’t have you going all soft on me. Don’t think I’m some safe or happy place for you; I never asked you to do that for me and you should have friends or family or something you can go dump that shit on. Try therapy. You tell people what a crock of shit therapists are, but you have to get over it and go see one. I can give you a number. No, not mine, she’ll refer someone. That’s what they do. That way, if you have a problem with me too, you got someone to go cry to. Because I’m not the one who’s going to change. Why should I? I mean, you’re a great guy and all, but I’m set in my ways. Take a look at me: this is what you get. I don’t have any secrets, no skeletons in the closet, I’m not screwing someone else on the side: nothing like that. I don’t get how you can get to this point with me, we put in this time together, and now you think you have a problem with this or that. Oh, I’m sorry, it upsets you. Worries you. Makes you sad that I do it. Whatever. It isn’t like we are waking up together and going to bed at night together. We both like our space. The time we do get to spend together is quality. Just don’t go and ruin it with your problems or your problems with me. If you can do that, everything should be fine. Do you know how much I love going into a club or a restaurant holding your arm? We turn heads. I can feel everybody’s eyes on us. I love being at the center of that, and I never felt like I had that before you. But this, this I never signed up for. This was supposed to be fun, that’s what we said at the outset, and now you are getting all serious on me. And don’t tell me you don’t get something out of this too. I’m not stupid. There’s a reason we’ve gotten this far without you getting all squishy on me, and that’s because you love it too. I just don’t get this. I don’t get why you want to mess up a good thing. Unless you’re just a really good actor, you wouldn’t be the first, and you know how to hide all your true feelings and schmooze through all your interactions with people and go to bed with a smile on your face if you score a little tail but when things aren’t going your way, you fall apart. You become a little boy all over again, needing you’re fucking friend to be your mommy. Do you know how sick that shit sounds? It isn’t healthy.”

He was doing his best to see things from her perspective. After all, he saw her as his equal – actually, he put her on a pedestal and often deferred to her needs. But he saw her as an equal voice. And yes, she was right. Things had changed and he was the one responsible for trying to change them, and he felt small and smaller as he played with the ring hiding in his coat pocket.