2:15 pm 11.20.11
Scene: a kitchen in a loft in Gallery Row, downtown Los Angeles
I’d been talking to a former something that had moved away across the pond ages ago about them, but didn’t know if he’d actually do it. Sure enough, they’d arrived. It was my second week here and I already had flowers at my desk.
The card that graced the vase of lilies simply read:
“To someone who still wonders what if”
Friday morning I was glowing. What a fantastic way to end my second week here. I contemplated whether or not to bring them home or to leave them at work over the weekend. I wasn’t sure how the suited gent was going to react, despite us only seeing each other (non exclusively) for the little time that we had. That answer, it seemed, would come this Sunday morning.
“You shouldn’t be accepting gifts from other men if you’re wanting a relationship.”
It came out of no where. This was coming from the man who exuded “Mr. Unavailable”.
“The men who have sent me things have an understanding. I don’t feel bad about it because, as petty as it sounds, these things make me smile. And, last I noticed, I wasn’t in a relationship. ”
I thought about the card. About the day he’d left for overseas all those years ago. About how he’d asked me to go with him but I just couldn’t.
The conversation with the suited gent continued as he made us our late breakfast. It was a bit silly. Why was he even saying this when we had barely known each other but a week. This has been a pattern with other men I’ve dated. Why do they worry so much about silly things?
“He lives on another continent. I don’t know why you are giving me the heavy about this.”
I’d held back the fact that he was going to be stateside to visit his family over the holidays. He didn’t need to know that. Quite frankly, it was none of his business anyway. We were not in a relationship last I noticed.
“You two sound like you’re married!” our friend chimed in from the room above us.
I wonder if this yet another gent who will be asking me that same question years later.