Affairs of the Single Girl
He's really mean. I can't believe I've been seeing him for 3 years now! Anna fumes and looks very upset. I sit across from her in the tiny cafe. Our lattes half emptied. Jeff was the type of guy who took more than he gave. And he thought it was his right. He has no patience for girls who want more than just sex. I think it's because he's married and his flings with these girls are really meaningless to him. But I don't dare tell Anna. She is infatuated with him and when I last brought it up, she was on the defense.
Anna's been my friend since we last met at a party in Uptown. We really didn't want to be merry, so we each sneaked out, I to grab a cigarette and she to grab some fresh air. As I started to light up, she told me, you're going to die early, you know. I choked just a bit. Excuse me? I replied. I was annoyed that some girl dared to lecture me. She smiled and walked over to me. I said that you're going to die early. You know, because you smoke. She laughs. I'm Anna. You are? And she extends her hand. She has lovely, long fingers. Turns out she's a pianist. I extend my hand and we shake hands. Our grip is strong. I like firm, strong grips. It means you're not afraid to have a little personality. I'm Lucy, I tell her. And yes, I know. But I still do it. Perhaps I'm wishing to die early. I'm lit up and I inhale. We were both quiet as I finished my cigarette. It's a nice evening. I muse. Yes, she says. Look at the moon. I wish we could see the stars better. I nod in agreement. Do you wish you could become someone else sometimes? She quietly asks. I look slightly taken aback and recover quickly before she notices. I'm careful to tread lightly - it sounds as though there's something heavy on her mind. Um, I pause. I think everyone at some point in their lives wishes they were someone else. I mean, look at all those little girls out there wishing they could become like Britney Spears, or even worse, Paris Hilton. Yeah. That's true, she agrees. She sighs. She smiles and says, can we exchange emails? I'm new in town and looking to make new friends.
Anna met Jeff in a chat room. He was in town for business and wanted to meet her. She agreed and that night they had sex. She told me later, that she hadn't planned for sex to happen. It just did. I berated Anna's lack of judgment and told her to be careful. You might get hurt, I said. They exchange emails almost every day and at least once a week they have phone sex. Anna! I declared one night. He's a married guy. And he's old! You're so beautiful and so young - end it with him. I told her with a stern face. She always smiles and tells me yes - but the next day, she's entranced by his voice, and the way he gets her. I don't get her, I think. I don't get why she's willing to settle for this. He lives in DC with his wife of 30 years and his kids, 11 and 16. Anna's so young. I think. She could pass for his kid.
In her mid-twenties, Anna still looked like an 18-year-old girl and she doesn't mind being mistaken for such. She actually thrives on that knowledge. I hope I can forever keep my youthful shape and my beauty, she mutters as she looks herself over in the mirror. Anna's afraid of getting old, of getting wrinkles, of getting fat. I don't know why I'm her friend, but there's something about Anna, that intrigues me, perhaps it is because I wish I was more like her. Wish that I had her body, her self-confidence. Sometimes though, I think she displays a false sense of confidence in order to hide her insecurities about who she really is. Barely 100 pounds at 5 foot 1 inch, Anna works out every day, wanting to shed the extra 10 pounds she gained the year she went on Accutane to cure her acne. I'm telling you Lucy, I had to choose. The extra weight or my beautiful face. The face, as my mother often lectures about, is a woman's most important possession. The face is the first thing people look at, Mother holds my chin in her fingers. Honey, she clucks her tongue against her teeth, my poor daughter. Why won't you use the herbal cream your aunt sent you from China? At this rate, no one will want to marry you. I want to yell at Mother, to tell her that I'm trying. But I do not and listen to her lament on my poor, facial skin.
Anna was heartbroken when Jeff told her he no longer wanted to play with her. Why not? she demanded. Am I too old now? Did I do something wrong? She was getting too clingy, e-mailing him every day, and once, profession her love for him. He had had enough, and had found a new playmate closer to his home. Sorry, he wrote. We need to end this. She called me during dinner. I was sitting and enjoying a meal with my date, a surgeon who had little time to spare, and whom I was intrigued by. My cell phone rang like crazy. I could not ignore the text messages that said I'm going to kill myself. I left my date with a hasty, lame excuse, about a family emergency. I'm sure he thought I just wanted to leave the
cheap Chinese restaurant he had offered to take me out for dinner. I told him to call me if he was still interested.
I found Anna sitting in her backyard in the little swing that her father made her when she was 6 years old. The house now belonged to Anna. Her parents decided to leave and go back to their home country. Anna's home was here, so she took over their mortgage and stayed behind. It's cold Anna. I silently walked towards her. The breeze was mildly pushing the leaves on the trees sideways. Anna's shoulders started to shake and I pulled her into my arms. Anna. I soothingly whispered. Let's go inside. I grabbed her keys and we headed to her bedroom. The safe place.
I thought he loved me. She said. I thought I loved him. I do love him. Her tears cannot seem to stop. It flows as though it knows that it has to keep her in tears, to erase him from her heart. I cannot say anything. I do not say anything. I listen to her cry. To her bitch at him. To her sob. To her mumbling. And then, exhausted, she finally falls asleep and I along with her.
It's funny how the heart can change. How scars heal. Anna's happily married now. I don't know if she ever told her husband about her past. About Jeff. I don't think she would have. The shame of being with a married man would have been the unraveling of her relationship with a man who strongly believes in the sanctity of marriage. Whose life revolves around bible studies and the weekends spent at the church with great anticipation. Never tell him, I mentally advise Anna. Never tell him. But do tell God. He's the only one who would be able to forgive and love you like he loved you before your sins. I think Anna knows. I hope she knows. I hope her husband never finds out.
Anna's been my friend since we last met at a party in Uptown. We really didn't want to be merry, so we each sneaked out, I to grab a cigarette and she to grab some fresh air. As I started to light up, she told me, you're going to die early, you know. I choked just a bit. Excuse me? I replied. I was annoyed that some girl dared to lecture me. She smiled and walked over to me. I said that you're going to die early. You know, because you smoke. She laughs. I'm Anna. You are? And she extends her hand. She has lovely, long fingers. Turns out she's a pianist. I extend my hand and we shake hands. Our grip is strong. I like firm, strong grips. It means you're not afraid to have a little personality. I'm Lucy, I tell her. And yes, I know. But I still do it. Perhaps I'm wishing to die early. I'm lit up and I inhale. We were both quiet as I finished my cigarette. It's a nice evening. I muse. Yes, she says. Look at the moon. I wish we could see the stars better. I nod in agreement. Do you wish you could become someone else sometimes? She quietly asks. I look slightly taken aback and recover quickly before she notices. I'm careful to tread lightly - it sounds as though there's something heavy on her mind. Um, I pause. I think everyone at some point in their lives wishes they were someone else. I mean, look at all those little girls out there wishing they could become like Britney Spears, or even worse, Paris Hilton. Yeah. That's true, she agrees. She sighs. She smiles and says, can we exchange emails? I'm new in town and looking to make new friends.
Anna met Jeff in a chat room. He was in town for business and wanted to meet her. She agreed and that night they had sex. She told me later, that she hadn't planned for sex to happen. It just did. I berated Anna's lack of judgment and told her to be careful. You might get hurt, I said. They exchange emails almost every day and at least once a week they have phone sex. Anna! I declared one night. He's a married guy. And he's old! You're so beautiful and so young - end it with him. I told her with a stern face. She always smiles and tells me yes - but the next day, she's entranced by his voice, and the way he gets her. I don't get her, I think. I don't get why she's willing to settle for this. He lives in DC with his wife of 30 years and his kids, 11 and 16. Anna's so young. I think. She could pass for his kid.
In her mid-twenties, Anna still looked like an 18-year-old girl and she doesn't mind being mistaken for such. She actually thrives on that knowledge. I hope I can forever keep my youthful shape and my beauty, she mutters as she looks herself over in the mirror. Anna's afraid of getting old, of getting wrinkles, of getting fat. I don't know why I'm her friend, but there's something about Anna, that intrigues me, perhaps it is because I wish I was more like her. Wish that I had her body, her self-confidence. Sometimes though, I think she displays a false sense of confidence in order to hide her insecurities about who she really is. Barely 100 pounds at 5 foot 1 inch, Anna works out every day, wanting to shed the extra 10 pounds she gained the year she went on Accutane to cure her acne. I'm telling you Lucy, I had to choose. The extra weight or my beautiful face. The face, as my mother often lectures about, is a woman's most important possession. The face is the first thing people look at, Mother holds my chin in her fingers. Honey, she clucks her tongue against her teeth, my poor daughter. Why won't you use the herbal cream your aunt sent you from China? At this rate, no one will want to marry you. I want to yell at Mother, to tell her that I'm trying. But I do not and listen to her lament on my poor, facial skin.
Anna was heartbroken when Jeff told her he no longer wanted to play with her. Why not? she demanded. Am I too old now? Did I do something wrong? She was getting too clingy, e-mailing him every day, and once, profession her love for him. He had had enough, and had found a new playmate closer to his home. Sorry, he wrote. We need to end this. She called me during dinner. I was sitting and enjoying a meal with my date, a surgeon who had little time to spare, and whom I was intrigued by. My cell phone rang like crazy. I could not ignore the text messages that said I'm going to kill myself. I left my date with a hasty, lame excuse, about a family emergency. I'm sure he thought I just wanted to leave the
cheap Chinese restaurant he had offered to take me out for dinner. I told him to call me if he was still interested.
I found Anna sitting in her backyard in the little swing that her father made her when she was 6 years old. The house now belonged to Anna. Her parents decided to leave and go back to their home country. Anna's home was here, so she took over their mortgage and stayed behind. It's cold Anna. I silently walked towards her. The breeze was mildly pushing the leaves on the trees sideways. Anna's shoulders started to shake and I pulled her into my arms. Anna. I soothingly whispered. Let's go inside. I grabbed her keys and we headed to her bedroom. The safe place.
I thought he loved me. She said. I thought I loved him. I do love him. Her tears cannot seem to stop. It flows as though it knows that it has to keep her in tears, to erase him from her heart. I cannot say anything. I do not say anything. I listen to her cry. To her bitch at him. To her sob. To her mumbling. And then, exhausted, she finally falls asleep and I along with her.
It's funny how the heart can change. How scars heal. Anna's happily married now. I don't know if she ever told her husband about her past. About Jeff. I don't think she would have. The shame of being with a married man would have been the unraveling of her relationship with a man who strongly believes in the sanctity of marriage. Whose life revolves around bible studies and the weekends spent at the church with great anticipation. Never tell him, I mentally advise Anna. Never tell him. But do tell God. He's the only one who would be able to forgive and love you like he loved you before your sins. I think Anna knows. I hope she knows. I hope her husband never finds out.
posted by Lishtar at
12:12 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home