“These people turn me into content. They reduce my life and these horrible fucked-up experiences down to soundbites and clickbait. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that,” I say with no small amount of anger. “Do you think I should talk to them?”
“No. Not if you don’t want to. Fuck ’em. None of them actually care about you. At the end of the day, most of them are just trying to profit off your pain.”
I think it through for the thousandth time. And he’s right.
“I take it they don’t need your permission then to use photos or video of you or whatever?”
“No. It’s all a matter of public record now.”
This makes him scowl.
I like having Noah on my side. Both him and ice cream are top-tier things. He licks the chocolate ice cream off his spoon and whoa. What a hussy. I really need to start being a better friend and stop sexualizing this man.
“Can I ask you something personal?”
He nods.
“How did you know that you wanted to get married? That they were the one you thought you should be with for the rest of your life?”
This elicits a sigh from him. “We’d been together a few years when she asked me.”
“She asked you?”
“Yeah.” He smiles. “Beatriz knew what she wanted. I always liked that about her. She was going to make manager where she worked and put a down payment on an apartment and all sorts of things. She was going places, and I loved her, so I wanted to go with her.”
I wait.
“We were both working long hours and giving our jobs everything. Making head chef at a great restaurant was what I’d always wanted. But I came home one night and realized I hadn’t seen her in almost a week. We would text each other about paying bills and feeding the cat and not a hell of a lot else. That’s not much of a marriage. Things had been falling apart for so long we didn’t even know where to start trying to put it back together.”
“That must have hurt you both.”
“It wasn’t acrimonious as these things go, and it’s been a year now.” He shrugs. “Sitting here eating ice cream with you isn’t so bad. I kind of feel like I’ve landed on my feet.”
I raise my pint in toast to the man.
“People have this idea of love like if it’s real it’ll all just be okay. But that’s not how things go. You have to want it enough to put in the work,” he says. “Anyway…I’m in no rush to get serious with someone again. Dating casually is one thing. But going through a divorce was a lot.”
“Time to relax and enjoy your life.”
“That’s right,” he says with a nod. “Enough of my shit. Give me a rundown of your romantic history.”
“That won’t take long.” I smile. Then I stop smiling. “I thought I loved Ryan and that he was the one. But I didn’t even really know him…just who he was pretending to be. The mask he wore to blend in with the general public and pretend to be normal.”
“Has there been anyone since?”
“No.”
He watches me in silence.
“Today was trash,” I say. “But tomorrow will be better.”
“Not tonight?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Tonight is for wallowing and feeling shitty.”
He puts down his pint and pulls his cell out of his pants pocket. A few taps on the screen later, music starts playing. “You need the right ambience for that.”
“What is this?” I ask. “Adele?”
