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George had barely let go of me in the cab or on the way up to my apartment, and I couldn’t deny I felt mollified under the attention. For just a moment, I let myself fall into the fantasy that he was Adrian, that the hands creeping up my back were another man’s. Eager to prove something (to who, I didn’t know), I placed his hand on my ass and guided George to the bedroom. He was clearly excited, his erection pressing against my thigh when we rubbed together. We reached my room and there was no fanfare. George’s shirt was off, and my heels were lost somewhere on the way to the bed. I slipped out of my pantyhose and pulled my dress off over my head.
“Damn,” was all George could apparently manage to say.
I couldn’t deny that it was pleasing that my semi-naked form could cause a grown man to stop dead in his tracks. I pulled him into a kiss and felt his warm palms hold my waist. He held me like I was something fragile, precious, and I wanted to be that for him. I let him lay me down, and he pulled his own pants off. There were only two layers of clothing between the two of us, and I felt my heart begin to speed up.
Finally,I thought, anticipating the spike of arousal that Adrian had always produced in me.
Instead, George kissed me again, and the most curious thing happened. His face was wet, and yet, when he pulled back, he was the one that looked confused. He backed up, a frown on his face.
“Um, Stevie?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, “why?”
“Because you’re crying.”
I touched a tender hand to my face, not believing him. It was true though—the tears were streaking down my face without any sign of stopping and, before I knew what was happening, a sob had built in my chest.
“I’m so sorry.” I cried, my whole frame beginning to shudder.
I felt cold all over, and then there was a blanket, my blanket, over my shoulders. George was sitting next to me, pants on, and his hand was on my back.
“Shh,” he whispered. “It’s—it’s okay!”
He was obviously freaked out, and I couldn’t blame him. Who expected their date to start crying just as things got hot and heavy? I was beyond embarrassed but couldn’t find the words to tell him that. I got the impression he was aware of that anyway. Instead of accusing me of blue balling him (like I was accusing myself of), he just sat there, mostly naked and comforted me. I wished I could tell him, tell Jack, tellanyonewhat was going on, but I couldn’t. The only person that could know the truth was the only person it would be completely unfair to subject my emotions to.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, several minutes later.
George just reassured me that it was alright and promised he wouldn’t tell anyone at work what had happened. I just cursed myself for pulling such a shitty move on maybe the nicest guy possible. He pulled his pants back on, buttoned his shirt over his chest, and asked me if there was anything he could do before he left. I said no and he unexpectedly kissed me on the forehead before leaving.
I felt like crap. How could I have pulled such a weak move? It wasn’t like I had ever even been in a relationship with Adrian, so why couldn’t my body just give into the goddamn carnal pleasures that I was convinced would help me forget him?
I got off the bed and pulled my pajamas on over my underwear. I didn’t bother taking off my makeup or letting my hair out of its ponytail. Instead, I just slipped into my old sneakers and my comfiest coat and headed back out into the cold night.
Rain had started falling but I didn’t mind. It was the kind of night that called for pathetic fallacy, even if that came in the form of freezing rain. I traced the footsteps of a much more headstrong version of myself and found myself staring out at the water. There were no stars, only the droplets that fell from the sky creating a dance across the surface of the marina.
Despite the wet seat, I sat on the same bench Adrian and I had spoken on and pulled my knees up to my chest. I found a sense of calm, just watching the rain on the water. No one else was out, and even the streetlamps seemed dimmer than they had that night. How could I not have known, at any point, that what I felt for Adrian had progressed beyond just “feelings”. It was a physical need to have him beside me, and yet, that one wish was impossible.
I didn’t know how long I stayed like that. Long enough for my hair to become damp and for the chill to start working its way to my bones. When I began to feel cold, I finally got up and headed home. Making myself sick wasn’t going to help anything.
At my apartment, I took NyQuil to help me sleep—a behavior I never normally would have condoned in myself, but I couldn’t stand to have any more sleepless nights because of one man. I knew I’d have to deal with the events of the night when I went to work, regardless of George’s promises. So, I tucked myself in, shut off the light, and let the drugs take me away.
In the morning, I felt well rested and positively mucus free, even if that hadn’t been an issue when I’d gone to bed. I cleaned the raccoon eyes off and dressed for work in a daze. I couldn’t give up on trying to date, so I decided I’d head back into the dating pool with the same determination with which I’d asked out George. I didn’t exactly know who I was going to go out with and didn’t feel like working my way through the male interns, so instead, I confronted Jack.
“Set me up with someone,” I said to him the next morning.
He was writing notes and glanced up at me skeptically.
“What?”
“I need a date, and you’re a guy. You know guys. Set me up on a date.”
“Why do you need a date? What happened with George?”
His knowing smile said he suspected something had gone wrong, but he kept his eyes trained on the chart he was working on. I grabbed the files for a couple of the patients I needed to update the notes for and followed him as he headed over to make sure that our droplet precaution patient had kept her oxygen on in the twenty minutes since he’d last told her to put it on.
“It didn’t work out.” I sulked and Jack finally looked up.
“My God,” he gasped, “are you actuallypouting?”
