Page 14 of Good Girl's Guide to Love
“Bet. Now spill.”
I start to say what I’m feeling, but I immediately swallow it down. Because I’m single. So what? Is that worth a vent session? It feels selfish to bring down the mood because I’m in a rut. “It’s nothing. It already sounds silly just thinking about it.”
“Nope. We’re not doing this,” Mia says, leaning across the table and tipping my chin up so I can’t look away. “Whatever you want to get off your chest, we’re going to do it. And if it takes fiveshots of whiskey to get there, well then goddamn it, that’s what we’re going to do.”
“Did I start drinking and you didn’t tell me?”
She shakes her head. “Those are for me. Because if something has you this down, I know it has to be something big.”
I shrug again, knowing that itisbig to me. And I know that Mia would listen to every word and return the ear and shoulder to cry on that I’ve given her so many times. But when you’ve gone your whole life being the listener… Well, it’s hard to flip that switch and sit on the other side of the conversation.
“Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I choose a thirty-slide power point on Julius Caesar.”
“For the only time ever, I’m going to deny that request. Now spill.”
All I can do is groan and send her an angry look. Which knowing me probably isn’t that threatening. “Fine. But you play dirty.”
She smiles and sips on her espresso martini as I try and figure out how I want to start this conversation. I don’t know why this is so hard. Mia’s my best friend. I know she’s going to listen to me and be the girl’s girl that she is. It’s just…saying this all out loud makes all of these feelings very real. And very vulnerable.
“I almost called Jonathan a couple days ago. And then, out of nowhere, he texted me.”
Saying the name of my ex-boyfriend makes Mia sit directly up in my chair. I also watch as she does her best to swallow her drink and not spit it in my face.
“Hold, please.”
I look on in curiosity as Mia starts digging in her purse. “What are you doing?”
“Because the night you finally realized you can do better and left that jackass, I kept a list of reasons why you ended it, in caseyou ever felt bad for him or had a moment of weakness. I was never going to let you forget all the reasons why being single is better than being with Dr. Stalker. And it’s finally coming into play.”
“His last name is Ainsworth.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
I always tried to defend Jonathan, which now I know was my kindness blinding me to his red flags. Even now, I feel bad that Mia calls him Dr. Stalker, even though she’s probably right.
When we were a couple, if we weren’t working, we were together. And again, at the beginning it was great. I had dated a few guys in college, and I always felt bad that I wanted to be around them seemingly more than they wanted to be around me. So finding a guy like Jonathan was perfect.
Or so I thought.
When I broke up with him, I thought he’d be sad, which he was. And I was too. It sucks realizing after spending more than a year together that you just aren’t the right fit. But better to end it when you know then to keep trying to find magic that isn’t there, right?
That’s how I felt. Jonathan felt another way. He’d leave letters on my car. Send flowers constantly at home and work, with notes begging me to take him back. It was…a lot. Overwhelming in the worst kind of way. Mia, along with my siblings, all suggested that I needed to do something to stop it, but I felt like a restraining order was a bit excessive. Especially because nothing was threatening. Luckily, it didn’t come to that because within a week of me breaking up with him he declared that he couldn’t live in Nashville without me and took the job in Texas.
“I’m glad you kept that list, but I don’t need it,” I say, half believing the words coming out of my mouth. “I don’t know, this week just felt…for the first time in a long time, I felt reallyalone. I’ve never minded being single. I knew breaking up with Jonathan was right for me becausehewasn’t right for me. But something about this week, on top of his out-of-nowhere text, just got me really acknowledging how alone I truly feel.”
I go on to tell Mia about this past week: helping out my family, coming together for the greater good. Then me sitting at a table, the extra chair needing pulled up at the end, and feeling more alone than ever.
“There I was, sitting around my family during this happy occasion, and all I wanted to do was sneak out and cry in a corner somewhere. Then I felt selfish for feeling bad about me. Rinse, repeat, and then a text received, and that’s been my week.”
“Wow,” Mia says, taking a healthy swig of her martini before continuing. “First, I want to say that I’m glad you didn’t text him. That would’ve required a whole other intervention.”
I laugh. “I know. It was a true moment of weakness. But kudos to me for leaving him on read.”
“You’re right, I tip my glass to you,” she says. “Also, it’s okay to feel alone and sad. Even when you’re happy for others. You’ve been single for a long time, and it’s a natural feeling. Are you trying to date? You haven’t said anything, but I also didn’t want to push.”
All I can do is shrug at her question. “I downloaded a dating app a few months ago. I deleted it in two days. One man asked me if I liked horseback riding, and if so, then I could ride him. Another sent me a picture of his…” I visibly shiver. Because who says penis pictures? “That was too much for me. How do men just do that?”
“It’s too much for anyone. But I’m proud that you tried.”
