Five Things I Can't Live Without (27 page)

“Okay. Well, thanks!” I said, pleased. “I guess we’ll see you next week.”

“I hope so. Thank you for coming.” Roxy smiled at both of us and moved away to talk to others who had lingered behind.

As we walked toward the car, Dan was quiet. I thought of telling him my impressions about being a follower with a bunch of strangers as my leader, but I wasn’t sure he wanted to hear them.

“Is anything wrong?” I finally asked.

He didn’t answer right away. “You just talked over me in there. With Roxy.”

“I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry.”

“I hadn’t told you that I even wanted to go back, and you committed us with Roxy.”

I waved a hand. “That’s not a commitment. If you don’t want to go back, we won’t go back.”

“I didn’t say that I didn’t want to go back. I just wanted the room to say what I wanted.”

“I said I was sorry.” I felt wounded by his interpretation of what had just happened. “I just spoke up because I assumed you wanted to be my partner. The whole point of the class was for us to be together.”

“I thought the point of the class was for us to have a new experience. We wouldn’t need to be partners for that.” We had reached the car. He unlocked the passenger side for me, and once I was inside, I scurried over to unlock the driver’s door.

I waited for him to say something else, but once he’d gotten into the car, he just started the engine and drove. After a few minutes, I burst out, “Are you actually mad at me?”

“It’s not about me being mad. It’s just about me noticing something.”

“What did you notice?” I asked, a little fearfully.

“You’re not a very good follower. I don’t mean that you’re a bad dancer. You were pretty good at the basic, and I thought that hip swivel was nice.” I expected him to smile when he said that, but he just went on. “But you’re not a good follower. You know how Roxy said that the leader is supposed to let the follower know when the dance is starting by moving his body forward just a little? Well, you didn’t wait for the cue. You just started.”

“Because I knew which beat we were starting on.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I’m sorry that I talked over you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t follow you the way you wanted me to. If you want to quit the class, we can quit. If you want to keep going, I’ll try to do better next week.” There was something in Dan’s steady way that made me feel worse than when other men attacked me directly. “Okay?”

Dan’s mood seemed to change then. He reached for my hand, and I gave it to him gratefully. “Nora, will you be my salsa partner next Monday?”

“I will,” I said. There was no other answer I could give.

That night I got an e-mail from Candace, my first client. She’d gotten engaged. She said she was sure I had other success stories, but she thought I’d like to know about hers. She hoped it wouldn’t be too weird to invite me to the wedding, and she wanted me to bring my own success story with me. It took me a minute to realize she meant Dan. I’d forgotten my white lie about meeting Dan over the Internet. I’d stopped telling clients that story a long time ago.

It was strange how far away that meeting with Candace seemed. It had only been a few months. And soon Dan and I would be celebrating our one-year anniversary, if we were lucky.

Chapter 17

About me: I haven’t tried my hand at one of these for a while. My own profile, I mean. The last time I wrote one for real was when I was hoping to meet someone like Dan. I wrote it honestly, in that there were no untruths. But it didn’t really say who I was. It was just a collection of cute anecdotes, moments, and factoids, like that I try to watch the National Spelling Bee every year. But since I’m writing this as an exercise in clarity (and with the hope that I’ll never have to post one of these again), it’ll read a little differently.

The plain truth of it is, I’m scared a lot. I’m afraid of losing what I have, of wasting my life, of not appreciating anything enough, of never getting anywhere, of being left behind. In my relationships, I’ve always eventually reached a place where I looked around and said, Is that it? Is that all there is? Once I said yes, it could only be the end. I don’t want that to happen anymore. I don’t want to keep losing, but I don’t know how to win.

About you: This is where so many profiles read the same. Who doesn’t want their mate to have a good sense of humor? Or to be intelligent? Or kind? I guess I’m lucky, because I can say without hesitation, Dan is all three.

He also has my favorite hair of any man I’ve ever been with. It’s thick and black and would be perfect except for one cowlick, and that’s actually what makes it perfect. And he smells great. Not like cologne; like Dan. He smells like autumn, and I love that.

The sensory is an important part of a relationship. You especially realize that when over time, you touch so much less and things fester so much more. In the beginning, you might feel annoyed and then sex gives you a completely clean slate. Or you’re so lifted up by your sexual connection that little annoyances can’t even reach you. Good sex can give you immunity.

I also love that Dan is solid and a straight talker. Even a few days ago, when he got upset with me at salsa class, he told me so right away and then it was over. By the time we were home, he was fine. I mean, I’m no fool. I realize that his follower comment is about how I am all the time, not just in salsa class, but he doesn’t walk around resenting me. I’ve had that happen before, and it’s awful, and Dan just isn’t like that. He doesn’t let his feelings percolate for days. He just takes a long minute to collect himself and he speaks up. That’s a pretty rare quality in a lot of ways. Most people don’t have Dan’s willingness to take a minute; it requires self-confidence and discipline. It would be easier to either go off half-cocked or say nothing. And the bigger part of that is that Dan knows himself. I bet he could write his profile in about ten minutes, and when he re-read it, he wouldn’t make a single change.

But I sometimes wonder how well Dan knows me. For example, he thinks the fact that I have too much free time is to blame for my meta-life. What he doesn’t seem to realize is that my meta-life doesn’t take additional time at all; it’s the soundtrack that plays while I’m doing other things. And he seems to think if I just took certain steps, I could exorcise my meta-life for good. But the fact is, as much as I like to pretend otherwise, my meta-life is me. Love me, love my meta-life. I’m not sure he does. Then again, I’m not sure he should.

Fuck it, I’m going on to the next question.

Five things I can’t live without:

1) Love. Obviously love. If you’re writing honestly, what else could claim the top spot?

2) Sex/Passion

If I never had sex again, that would be undeniably bad. The problem for me is that in monogamous relationships, my desire for sex can drop so low that it seems like I actually could live without it completely. Like, if I didn’t know I was supposed to want sex, it would be perfectly fine to never have it again.

But when I remember the early days with Dan, what stands out most to me isn’t the sex itself. It’s the fact that whole days seemed like foreplay. Walking in a park and brushing against him and feeling the tingle of arousal, a pang that wouldn’t be satisfied for hours. By the time we got in bed, we’d been aching for each other all day. Now sex seems so abrupt. We’re still affectionate with each other during the day, but something has changed. Sex is no longer an inevitability. It seems so optional.

And salsa class isn’t helping any. I thought proximity plus rhythm would have us panting for each other, but it’s not working out that way. I had this image of us smelling each other’s sweat and getting animalistic, but we never do anything long enough to get sweaty. Try something twice, and then we’ve got Roxy shouting at us to rotate. If I never heard that word again, I’d be a happy woman. We’ve gone to three classes now and we haven’t had sex after any of them. We’re both just trying so hard not to mess up, and there’s nothing sexy about that. We might as well be taking couples’ calculus for all the charge we’re getting out of it. Instead of breaking us out of our routine, now Monday-night salsa class is the routine.

3) Knowing I’m consistently loved and desired. Being grounded by love. Compatibility. Stability. These things matter.

Maybe all of this should actually fall under #1. If I assume that “love” as listed at #1 is the love that I want, it encompasses these other things. Why is so much of my list about love anyway?

Because the right love leads to kids. And I know kids are on the wish list. If only I could put them on layaway, get on a five-year plan like Dan with his bookbar, know that they’ll definitely be there someday when I’m ready …

Dan would be a great dad. He’d be kind and unflappable and playful. He comes from a good family, a family where they like each other. I can already see him barbecuing with kids running barefoot through the yard. I just can’t tell if I’m in the picture.

But I’m only twenty-nine. There’s time. I’m sure there’s time. There has to be.

3) So, final answer: kids (someday).

4) Something more significant than a job, more flexible than a career

5) A sense of forward momentum, even if it’s only an illusion

I
was supposed to meet Hunter, my next dating profile, at 7:30, but he called to say he’d have to change it to 8:30 pm or reschedule for another day. After a whole day of inconclusive self-exploration, I needed the reprieve of diving into someone else’s life, so I agreed to meet him at a cafe around the corner from his apartment at the reappointed time.

I’d never met a Hunter before. I didn’t know if I found the name appealing or affected. I was much clearer about the man himself.

When the man who was definitely Hunter came through the door, my jaw nearly dropped. He inspired immediate attraction. It sounds ridiculous, but it was something in the way he scanned the crowd. It didn’t hurt that he bore some physical similarity to Jude Law: dark blond tousled hair, blue eyes, and a long lean body in a T-shirt, blazer, and jeans. It was crowded and loud in the cafe. One of the baristas greeted Hunter by name, and he shouted something friendly back, then resumed his search for me.

His search for me
. I couldn’t believe what my stomach was doing in response to the notion that Hunter was looking for me.
He’s looking for you so that you can help him look for other women. And you’re with Dan
.
You belong with Dan.

I waved and Hunter made his way over. He maintained a wide smile during the trip. “I can’t believe you got a table!” he said.

“I got here early. I’ve been reading.”

“What are you reading?” he asked, leaning in curiously.

I lifted it up so he could see the cover.

“That’s a good one,” he said. He rapped his knuckles against the table. “What can I get you?”

“I’m set.” I pointed to the empty espresso cup in front of me.

“Wow. You’re tough. It’s a strong pour here.” He remained standing. “Would you mind if I grabbed something? I actually haven’t had a chance to eat today.”

“All day?”

“Well, not for a long time,” he amended, with a smile as if I’d caught him in a lie.

I smiled back, transfixed. I looked down at my book to break the moment.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, energetically loping into the line.

I watched him for another second, then tried to return to my book. I was a little shaken by the encounter, and by the visceral response I was having to Hunter. Since Dan and I had been together, I hadn’t really been attracted to anyone but him. I wasn’t the type to fantasize about other people during sex with Dan; I was more the type to just want Dan less. I was a serial monogamist, true, but the monogamist part was always in the foreground.

I took deep breaths to steady myself. The line was moving slowly. Hunter glanced back at me occasionally with an apologetic expression. I waved my hand to let him know it was okay.
Being attracted to other people is completely normal. Being so freaked out by it is what’s abnormal
. I had largely convinced myself of this and even gotten a few pages of reading done when Hunter returned to the table with a bagel, a muffin, and a cup of coffee.

“I know. I’m the picture of good health,” he said, taking his seat opposite me. He started opening packets of sugar and dumping them into the coffee. “I get engrossed in a project and I lose track of time, space, biological urges. It’s a terrible quality. Don’t put it in there.” He pointed at the notebook I’d just removed from my bag.

I laughed. “I’m not so sure it’s a terrible quality. What do you do?”

“I’m a software engineer.”

I almost said,
You’re kidding
. Same as Dan. “And you’re really into it, huh?”

“I love it.” He started to peel the paper bottom from his muffin. “I like to eat backward. Always dessert first.”

“Really?”