Boxes

This weekend a friend came over to pick up some boxes. She’s the one in my dance troupe who is getting a divorce, and their house just sold so she has to be out quickly. We wound up chatting for a bit since we really haven’t spent time together since the Vancouver trip.

Her: (excited) It’s getting better because once we’re out of the house, Vancouver guy is coming to visit me!

Yep. Weeks into her separation she hooked up with a guy on our trip. He wasn’t the only one hitting on her, but he was the nicest, funniest, etc. And now he is going to be making a trip across the country to see her for a weekend. I can’t help but feel a little envious. I push it down. I join her in her enthusiasm. She deserves some fun after everything her ex had been putting her through. He had accused her of cheating in the past, but she didn’t even kiss anyone else until the separation was official. I sat there thinking. Of course, I don’t get any kind of action, single as I am. Why is that? I refocus on what she’s saying.

Her: (excited) That’s not the only thing I have to look forward to. This other guy, an ex boyfriend, found out I’m getting divorced so he’s been calling me lately. We’re going to meet up next time he comes through town!

Me: (thinking) Oh, so two hook ups. That’s cool. Making up for lost time I suppose? What about *my* time? Who makes up for that?

Me: (out loud) What about that guy who lives in town?

Her: He’s a bit too young, but I see him every now and then.

Oh, three guys. Right. That have come forward. So far.

I sigh. Must be nice to be so desirable.

I had a dream the other night. In it this guy I have liked for years is my boyfriend. We’re lying in bed, arms around each other, not wanting to get up in the morning. My alarm goes off. I’m alone when I roll over, and I realize that’s why I didn’t want to get up. I remember one late night at my place when he told me how alone he was, how undesirable he was, and how he felt he would never get a girlfriend again because girls keep dumping him.

I did what I could to reassure him. At one point, somehow it came up how I was 8 years younger than him and I remember the look on his face, and how he acted made me feel he thought I was too young for him. I remember finding some consolation in that.

I saw him at a fundraiser the other week. He does this standing aside thing where he still sort of looks over at me. He used to do it when we saw each other in bars, as though afraid to be the first one to say hi. But he would always know where I was in the bar. Do I just intimidate people too much?

We stood in line by each other, and did the “Hey, howyadoin’?” thing you do when you can’t really talk to one another. Next to him was his girlfriend. She’s a couple of years younger than me.

The Divorcee and I flattened some boxes so she could fit them into her car easier. After a while we sat down and she brought out her cell phone.

Her: Look at what he sent me!

I take the phone and look at the text. It’s from Vancouver guy. She used to have a nickname for him in the phone in case her soon-to-be-ex checked out her phone, but the nickname is gone and his real name replaced it.

Me: (surprised) No more fake names?

Her: Nope. I’m not playing those games anymore. We’re getting divorced. He has no say in who I see.

I look back to the message and my throat tightens a little bit.

I miss you so much and can’t wait to see you.

I smile. There’s nothing else I can do. So I smile and hand back the phone,

Me: You’re very lucky.

Inside I am strained. Never in my life has a guy ever said that to me, text or otherwise. Some days I think it never will.

After a cigarette we haul the boxes to her car, and she drives away. I return to my apartment and sit for a while as the sun beams outside for the first time all week and I can hear families playing in the park across the street. It’s funny how you can feel so many emotions at once and still feel dead inside.