hk in despair

Okay, it’s not despair like the despair of the first year of law school, or the despair of ever finding peace in my family, or the despair (sometimes) of ever finding a career I truly want. I am not hiding in bed in a darkened room, crumpled tissues around me, wishing that the earth would open up and swallow me whole.

Nevertheless.

We had The Talk last night.

I had dinner with Neener last night, where she said I looked radiant, and I told her, you know, this guy is pretty great. She cheered. ACK. Right then, I should have known I was jinxing myself. Sweet, Smart Scientist’s house was the on way back home, so as we planned earlier in the evening, I stopped by to hang out, catch up about our days, and, you know, maybe get some.

He was coming back from the gym, so we crossed paths on the street, went to his house, where he made dinner, took a shower while I read, and sat down next to me on his couch. Where, as he had his arm around me, he said, “Can I talk to you about something?”

Oh, god, no.

I must have had a stricken look on my face, because he laughed apologetically. Said, "We don't have to talk about it now."

"No, no," I said resignedly, bracing myself.

He’s concerned. He likes me. He likes spending time with me. I’m leaving. He doesn’t want to get hurt. He doesn’t want to hurt me. He’s not good at long distance relationships – the last woman he dated moved to New York, and that didn’t work out well. He doesn’t make very good choices in relationships. When he was in his mid-twenties, he might not have had these second thoughts. He knows what he should do, but isn’t sure what he wants.

At that, I clarified: “You mean, you think you should break things off now, but you don’t know if you want to.”

Um… yeah.

"Then why did you call me after the first date?" I asked, frustrated.

He passed a hand over his eyes, sighed. "I ... liked you. I enjoyed spending time with you. And our emails. I just ... I didn't think things through."

I looked down, thinking, trying to be honest, trying to say the words that would get me what I wanted. "I like you," I said finally. "I like you in a way that I haven’t liked anyone for a long time." (Rather oddly, he said "thank you" to that.) "But I don’t know what to tell you. I am leaving. And if you don’t want to get hurt, and you know you don’t want to do long distance, then I guess the smart thing to do would be to end things now."

There was a silence, in which many things were said and unsaid. We had all the facts. There was only a decision to be made. And that decision would be his.

I looked at him. Pulled myself up from my supine position, settled myself into his lap. “I want you to be happy. I want me to be happy. And I’m happy when I’m with you.”

“The problem,” he said, “is that I get attached easily.” He took my hand in his. “And I’m already attached to you.”

“So don’t … un-attach,” I said. “Capture happiness while you can.”

A little later, I said, “Have you already decided, and you just don’t want to tell me? Or do you really not know?”

He closed his eyes and said in a distressed tone, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

I couldn’t leave it at that. “Will you decide soon? Because it’s kind of hard, having a ticking time bomb over your head. And when you do decide, you’ll tell me, won’t you? You won’t just stop calling.”

“No,” he said, reassuringly. “I wouldn’t just stop calling.”

A few hours later, he drove me back home. Parked outside the building. “The last time we were sitting here, it was snowing,” he observed. “Yes,” I replied. “It was a moment.”

We sat close, foreheads together, for a moment. He looked at me. I looked at him. There seemed to be an infinite sadness in his gaze. I’m sure I had the same look on my face. “Let’s keep talking about it, thinking about it,” he said softly. “Okay,” I replied, resignedly. What could I say?

It’s only been three weeks since I met Sweet, Smart Scientist. Miracle Gro warned me from the get-go to please remember that it was a time-limited affair. I knew that. I know that. And yet.