How has this person managed to make
me feel guilty, judgmental and heartbroken in one fell swoop? I
realize I’ve been there for hours, listening to him leap from one
subject to the next. He says inappropriate things to other patrons,
makes weird comments about my body and sex, then chastises himself as
if even he’s shocked to hear himself make such remarks.
“I could get laid whenever I wish.” Nicolas scans the room. “But
these women are like biscuits in milk. They dissolve immediately. But
you are solid, you understand me.”
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I feel as if I’m standing at the edge of the tornado in Twister, watching things get sucked in and chucked out. I’m waiting to get hit by a stray cow.
“You’re my soul mate,” Nicolas says. “I’ve told you everything and you’re still here.”
Nicolas takes me in his arms and I become the pussycat trying to get
away from Pepe LePew. ‘Yes, I’m still here,’ I wonder. ‘Is being
alone worse than this?’
I take a cab home, Nicolas sends a text letting me know we’re
finished. Despite considering me a soul mate less than an hour before,
he now feels emotionally unavailable. Relieved, I spend the next
several months joking about him with friends, imitating his manic
gestures and referring to him as ‘French Psycho.’
But seeing Nicolas the other night, trying to endear himself to yet
another woman wasn’t such a hoot. Everyone has reasons why they can’t
make relationships work. They’re insecure, too picky, damaged. But
these are things we have control over. Imagine being a stunningly
handsome, whip smart, super successful man who can’t keep a woman, a
wife, or even his own family and child in his life because of a
sickness he can’t control. That’s not funny. That’s sad.
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**Reprinted from Laura K. Warrell's blog Tart&Soul at www.TartandSoul.com.