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A question that seems out of curiosity but actually has a purpose. Like “What brand of body wash do you use? I’m at the store and want to smell it, so I can pretend I’m inhaling you.” If she doesn’t know off the top of her head, she’d hurry to her bathroom to either read or take a picture of the label to send to me. And with the thought I put into her head about me inhaling her, it would encourage her to take the shower she hadn’t felt the energy to before.
My suspicion the night I fixed up her hand has been confirmed several times over the last week. The little sub has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder along with her ADHD, and I’m entirely certain she’s been in a depressive episode that’s lasted quite some time.
The next morning, I throw on my workout clothes and head to the gym. I’m just pulling into a parking spot when my phone dings with a notification. And then another, and another, and another, and I chuckle, knowing without looking they’re messages and exactly who they’re from.
The little sub has arisen.
WillDive4Plants:
So I had a dream last night that made something occur to me. How accurate is that little app I found you on? As far as location/distance? Because it definitely said you were only two miles away… while I was sitting in my living room. As in at home.
Which would be a whole new plot bunny in itself if the hero she meets on the site happens to live in her neighborhood. Could you imagine? ??
Holy shit. Like… what if they kept passing each other every day and had no idea they were RIGHT THERE all along? I mean, I saw you a lot at the gym. But if you’ve been one of my neighbors all this time… not gonna lie, it’d kinda make me sad. Because it’s almost like I could’ve known you all this time and missed out.
Sorry. Went a little Stage 5 Clinger on you there. I guess I’m just bummed I could’ve had a like-minded friend to talk to when I was alone all that time.
My gut clenches at her opening up and being vulnerable with me, feeling similar to what she probably does when she receives praise. It’s like a reward, deeply touched by the trust she’s giving me. I also feel… something I’m not very familiar with when it comes to empathy. While I know I experience guilt when I hurt someone’s feelings with my seemingly careless words, I’ve never truly understood what people meant by the term “lying by omission.” It doesn’t compute in my head how you are telling someone a lie, if you aren’t voicing anything. I’ve always chalked it up to one of those illogical societal norms my disorder will never let me grasp.
But for some reason, in this moment, I feel… uncomfortable? With the fact that she doesn’t know I saw her long before we met on the app. Yet telling her could possibly change things, and I don’t want that to happen. What’s happening between us feels right, tantalizing our minds with the possibility of there being incredible chemistry once we meet in person.
Maybe that’s it though.
I already know there’s incredible chemistry between us when we’re in each other’s physical presence. My persistence comes from wanting to feel it again, knowing it’s there and craving more of it. She, on the other hand, is still working up the courage for what she believes will be our first time meeting face-to-face. But until that happens, I’m getting to know a side of her that’s most likely more carefree and unembarrassed to tell me her random “squirrel thoughts” as she calls them, than if she were to know I was the one who caught her in a dumpster.
She has yet to mention her nighttime hobby. Dumpster diving, that is. She would never reveal her other nighttime activities of being a member of our elite club. It’s against the rules of Club Alias to speak about it to just anyone. So I haven’t wasted time even awaiting a message that included something about that. But her “treasure hunting”? She hasn’t said one word about it, and since she’s revealed a lot about herself, including her love of gardening and going off on adorable tangents about different plants, for it to not be mentioned tells me it’s not something she wants me to know about.
And the only real reason she wouldn’t want me to know is she’s embarrassed, maybe ashamed even, since a lot of people would draw parallels between dumpster diving and being poor, or homeless, or even just desperate. It would take an explanation for them to understand she does it more as a “fuck you” to “the man.” She does it because her principles drive her compulsions. And with her disorder causing her to hyperfixate on whatever she’s feeling compelled to do, her dumpster diving has become even more to her than just rescuing healthy plants from the garbage.
