Simone
SIMONE
S imone knew something was wrong when Jonah followed up his deposit with a text that said: We need to talk.
At the restaurant Jonah sighed and took Simone’s hand in his. “I hope you know how much I care about you, but this is the last time we will see each other,” he said. “A girl I’ve been dating asked to be my girlfriend about a month ago and I said yes. I finally feel ready to be in a relationship.”
“She asked you a month ago?” Simone repeated. “But the last time we saw one another was two weeks ago.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t convinced at the time,” Jonah explained. “Then she gave me an ultimatum and I said yes because, you know, I hadn’t made up my mind. Now I have.”
“Does she know you’ve been unfaithful to her?”
Jonah folded his arms and laughed. “What do you care? Most of your clients must be married men.”
“How would you know that?”
He shrugged. “I assumed. But I know I’m right. Isn’t it trapped men who seek your services?” Simone looked pointedly at him until he added, “The majority, I mean.”
Simone had once read an article that claimed most people don’t really know or see who their partner is until something interrupts the honeymoon phase.
One person had said their lesson moving forward would be to assume they have no idea who they’re dealing with until they’ve experienced every season together.
It struck Simone that, while she was providing the girlfriend experience, Jonah was also playing a part himself.
Simone didn’t have the right to judge, because yes, her clients were not always forthcoming about their relationship status.
When doing her routine background checks, she left that particular stone unturned—after all, her vows were not the ones being broken.
For her and Jonah, there wasn’t much moral high ground for either of them to stand on, but that wasn’t the real issue.
Simone knew she only wanted to “win” because she felt betrayed.
She was aware that none of her clients were hers forever, and in some rare cases, she’d been glad of that fact, but during her last few evenings with Jonah, she’d felt the line between girlfriend and girlfriend experience begin to blur.
Since their very first meeting, Jonah had been funny, interesting, financially generous, and charismatic.
It was Simone who had slowly changed. She chose to sleep with her nose in his neck instead of her own pillow; to send him voice notes instead of text messages.
She allowed herself to miss him whenever she left his flat.
Simone imagined her mind as a dandelion and shook herself free of these thoughts. “I understand,” she said.
Jonah, now reassured that he would leave unscathed, softened. “It isn’t personal.”
“I’m aware,” Simone said. “It’s purely business.”
But as she watched Jonah walk away, some intangible seeds of wishful thinking remained.