Leti #2
“Fair point. We’ll say they ‘settle early.’ Maybe too early,” Julian says, and I can’t quite fault him for believing that.
It’s the same way I think about people from high school, when nothing but engagement photos and baby pictures flood my timeline.
It’s inconceivable that I’ve arrived at an age where these steps are normal, even commonplace, when the most I have to show for myself at twenty-six is my first full-time job, over fifty hours a week playing video games on the internet, and the shittiest healthcare plan known to man.
Does it feel too early because I’m nowhere near that put together, or are they all just as lost as I am behind their glossy social media pages?
“Maybe,” I say, because my thoughts are too complicated for first date conversation. They’re too…exposing. Shine a light on all the insecurities I’d much rather hide. “It does sound kind of nice, though.”
“What does?” he asks. “Settling?”
“Settling down.” I shrug. “Having the life everyone else has. At least then I’d be able to relate to them more.”
“Huh.” I don’t know what that sound from him means, or the inexplicable look in his deep-set brown eyes. “Funny. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less.”
I bristle at his words. I knew I should’ve left it alone. Now that I’ve opened up the conversation like this, I’ve given him leeway to pick and probe at my insides.
“Oh, great. Another commitment-phobe in the dating pool. What else is new?” I scoff to myself, praying for our food to come faster.
“I’m not a commitment-phobe.” He’s the one bristling now, and it sends a wave of pleasure down my spine to have turned the tables on him. “I— That came out wrong. That’s not how I meant it at all.”
“Oh, so you didn’t mean to say that getting married and having kids is akin to throwing your life away?”
“Look, maybe it’s great for some people.
I’m not discounting that. Maybe it really does fill them with joy to marry their high school sweetheart and have two-point-five kids by the ripe old age of twenty-five.
But is it really for everyone? I can’t scroll through any form of social media without being bombarded by baby pictures and wedding announcements.
” His voice lowers to a commiserating whisper.
“This is a safe space. You can be honest. Don’t you get sick of it? ”
He’s not wrong. That’s half the reason I don’t use social media anymore, except for my gaming accounts. It only reminds me of how far behind I am compared to the people I grew up with. How envious I can be for a life I don’t even want.
“You have a point.” I give a begrudging nod. “My Instagram feed is a special kind of hell these days. Enough time on it will make me believe I’m doing this whole adult thing wrong.”
“Exactly.” He nods, looking relieved. “When we hit our thirties, we’re gonna see an emergence of post-divorce, midlife crisis posts and feel much better about ourselves.”
“I’m sure that’s a comforting thought for you.” I force a smile. “If also extremely petty.”
“Hey, it’s my only defense at this point.” He laughs.
The waiter arrives with our food, and for a moment we lapse into silence.
I’m not tempted to flee anymore, but I’m also a hundred percent sure this date is a dud.
As much as I agree with him, I can’t let myself fall into the trap of petty, bitter sentiment.
All the people I care about fit this traditional mold of life in one way or another.
Maybe I can’t relate to them, but the best I can do is be happy for them.
Even if that means bottling up the loneliness I can never quite seem to shake when I’m around them.
“What is it you’re looking for, then, if not to settle down anytime soon?” If he’s looking for a hookup or casual relationship, this night is a bust. Well, more of a bust than it is already. But maybe he’s like me—searching for something real, even if it’s unconventional.
“I never said I’m opposed to settling down,” he says. “There are different ways to grow roots, don’t you think? You don’t need to get married and have kids to do that.”
“Yeah, I guess there are.”
“When most people get married, their world narrows. It becomes all about the spouse and kids, with little room for anyone or anything else. Maybe it’s not intentional, at least at first. But it happens.
And then one day you realize you gave up on all the dreams you once had for yourself, left all your friends behind, and barely recognize yourself in the mirror. That’s the last thing I want.”
That’s the last thing I want either, but I’m still not sure what to make of him.
For all his criticism of conventional adulthood, he still hasn’t told me what he is looking for.
I might be on the fence about ever having kids, but I still want a partner who’s committed to me.
Someone to come home to at the end of the day, to travel the world with, to grow old and gray with.
Ultimately it’s on me for jumping the gun yet again, but for a second there I thought I could see myself doing that with Julian.
I should know better than to go from zero to a hundred before we’ve been on one singular date.
He interrupts my contemplation with a deep groan that, unfortunately, goes straight to my core. Good fucking lord, of all people to be sexually attracted to—
“Sorry,” he says after his throat works on a swallow that doesn’t help matters downstairs either.
“I didn’t realize I was starving till I started eating.
” He pops another sushi roll into his mouth.
“Want one?” he asks around a mouthful of raw fish I really wish I hadn’t seen.
At least I can be grateful it does the trick in calming down my hijacked hormones.
I glance over at his spicy tuna roll with a frown. Then I shake my head, wondering at these inexplicable, physical feelings I’m having for a man I just met.
I haven’t been sexually attracted to someone since my last year of college.
That was over four years ago, back when I found my body’s seemingly random response to arousal endlessly frustrating.
How could I spend months wanting desperately to desire my almost-boyfriend the same way he desired me, only to feel the most intense bout of sexual attraction of my life for the guy I went on one date with immediately after him?
A date that didn’t even go well, much like…
Wait a damn minute.
Much like this one.
It all clicks into place when, with no regard for sense of decency, Julian reaches across the table with his chopsticks and plucks a sushi roll off my plate.
Four years ago, I was talked into a blind date by a girl in my Gothic Literature class.
Despite insisting I was done with dating after my awful situationship imploded, she told me she knew the guy to help me get back out there.
I hadn’t realized I was graysexual yet but was more than a little wary of her “best way to get over someone is to get under someone” logic.
I took the bait anyway, but instead of a rebound, I came out with yet another key example of my terrible dating history.
“Oh. My. God.”
“What?” he asks mid-chew. Then, as if only just now realizing what he did, he backtracks. “Leti, I’m so sorry. I’m used to sharing food with all my friends, and I— It was instinct…”
Just like it was instinct for him to pick off a few fries from my plate four years ago until they were gone.
I even told him beforehand that I don’t like to share food.
Besides, those truffle fries were nine dollars and he only paid for his portion of the bill.
I quit dating altogether after that night.
My dating history ended with this man. Now, years later, it’s starting back up with him.
“God, I knew you looked familiar.” He was lankier in build back then, his curls shaggier, but his smile is the same. Those deep dimples should’ve given him away sooner, but I was too dumbstruck by his crooked grin. Even his explanation, I’m used to sharing food, calls that night back to me.
“We’ve been on this date before.”