Page 63 of Man Seeking Woman

“Prince Charming syndrome. It's basically the same as girls with ugly duckling syndrome.”

“You lost me on this one.”

“You've really never heard of this?” Shaking my head no, I let her explain. “Okay, so there are those girls in school who were a bit homely, ignored by most of the boys because their boobs weren't big enough or they didn't walk around with their underwear hanging out the back of their pants. Then those same girls grow up and become drop dead gorgeous, but they don't know they're beautiful, so they're not bitches. Prince Charming syndrome is the same thing, except, you were picked on and rejected, not seen as masculine and forced outside the cool circle. Now you're all grown up, successful, handsome, but you protect yourself with a sense of humor because that's what works. The thing is, you don't need to try and make people laugh anymore, because now they're ready to kiss your ass.”

“But is that how I want to be known? Do I want to be known as the guy who just accepts anyone as long as you tell him his hair is perfect?”

“No, fuck that, and that's what I'm saying.” Leaning closer, Ella had this look in her eye. A look that said she had just figured out why the world existed in the first place. “You get to be you and it doesn't matter anymore what happened, no one is judging you.”

“We're always being judged, Ella, that never changes.”

“Maybe, but if you don't care, what does it really matter? I get judged constantly, just the other day some guy thought I was a hooker, but it doesn't mean I'm going to change who I am. Being you is important, and you shouldn't change for anyone else.”

I didn't think it was as simple as she made it sound. The world, regardless of how much no one wants to admit it, was always judging everyone. It didn't matter who, someone was watching and criticizing from a dark corner.

The thing was, in her world no one else really saw those flaws she might wear casually, but in my world, those flaws were plastered in black ink across thousands of people's front lawns, waiting for them to pick up that word soup and drink it down.

But who knows, maybe her free spirit would rub off on me.

The closer we got to finishing our plates, the less conversation we shared. I noticed the tension in her body tighten. I could feel her bouncing her foot up down off the floor, the gentle thump getting faster and faster as the plates became bare and our glasses empty.

“You all done?” I asked, picking up my plate and reaching out to grab hers. Ella shook her head, but didn't say a word. “Let me take this for you.”

Wiping her mouth, she kept her head down. I could feel that she wanted to ask me something, but she wasn't sure how or maybe she wasn't sure she should.

“What is it?” I asked, setting the dishes in the sink and rinsing them under the water. “I can tell you're thinking something.”

Her eyes skirted around mine, setting on them briefly before she tore them away. “Alright, so here's the thing. You want to have sex, and I know I signed up for this. But I just need to hear you say it. . .” Pausing, she bit her bottom lip, waiting for me to understand what she was asking.

“What? What do you need me to say?”

“That you really want to have a baby, that you'll do nothing but be there as an amazing father to the baby.”

“Of course,” I said in surprise. “Why would you think I wouldn't be? I'm the one who put it out there, I came looking and you came offering, remember?”

“No, no, no, your offer was vague. There was nothing there that said what this was. But you're just so relaxed about this, it makes me wonder if you really understand what you're getting into.”

Walking to her side, I ran my hand down her hair, doing my best to comfort her. “I get it, I do. And I don't want you to worry. I want this baby.” Taking her hand, I pulled her up from the chair. “Come on, let's take this in the bedroom.”

Ella's feet were sluggish as we made our way down the hall. I knew this wasn't the most romantic of ways to do this, but like I said, time was ticking. Sex was just sex, no matter which way you looked at it.

Walking into the bedroom, I slid the switch on the wall up a little bit, just enough so the lights were on, but dim, creating a warm glow in the room. I might not be romancing her into the room, but I could do my part to romance her into the bed.

Guiding Ella to the bed, she stopped a foot away. “Just give me a sec,” she said, holding up her hand and moving towards the bathroom. “I'll be right out.”

Putting on some soft music, I took off my pants and shirt, keeping on just my boxers and the white shirt underneath. Climbing onto the bed, I sat back against the head board, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

“You alright?” I finally called out. Ella had been in there for well over twenty minutes.

“Yeah, I'll be right out.”

If I had made the attempt to make this a romantic experience, all the excitement would have been gone by now. I didn't like waiting, not for anything. I was an impatient kid and still an impatient adult.

Some things don't change.

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