How I Ditched My Commitment Issues ... By Snooping

By

jumping woman
Keeping one foot out the door helped me dodge vulnerability ... and, it turns out, real love.

After packing up my stuff, I'd call the puppeteer and ask him he wanted to meet me in L.A. That’s right, I'd move to L.A. F*ck that guy — he was dead weight in my life and career. It was too bad we wasted a year and a half on each other.

As I pulled up to the condo I could see Jonathan race down the outside cement stairs to greet me. We walked down a path surrounded by lovely palm trees and beautiful hibiscuses in bloom, and I fought to control my urge to smash my suitcase over his head.

Jonathan closed the door behind us and asked innocently, "Are you okay? Did something happen on the way down?" I immediately burst into insults, starting with "sexist pig," and moving on to "lousy misogynist who couldn’t see past a girl’s fucking vagina," and I reminded him that he certainly didn’t deserve me.

"What are you talking about?"

"I found your stupid list. You must have felt like a really big man writing that list," I seethed.
"What list?"

"Don’t pretend to be an idiot."
"I'm serious, Ophira, I don’t know what list you’re talking about."

"The list of all the fucking girls you’ve been with! I found it when I was transferring your stupid files."

I could see it dawn on him, and then he sank into a chair. Fuck. This was really happening.

"No that’s not a list ... well it is a list, but I wrote it like a year ago, when we first met, because I wanted to do a comic strip for this sex anthology, and I was trying to organize my thoughts."

"Well you have the thoughts of a misogynist pig. It’s revolting how you think about your exes." I'd run out of words to describe a woman-hater, so I was recycling.

Jonathan exhaled hard. "I know exactly how that must have come across to you, but that’s certainly not how I see you or women in general. It was for this story that I never wrote. How can you not know that about me? You know how I see you."

"Yeah. You see me as a 'comedienne.'"

"What’s wrong with that?"

"No one uses that term! It’s like calling someone a spinster."

"Oh sorry — I didn’t know. I thought that was fine."

"It’s not."

"Okay. I’m sorry. I love you. It was just a stupid list. And for what it’s worth, I never want to update that list," he said very softly.

Fuck. I wasn’t moving to L.A.  Keep reading...

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