“That’s a valid point,” Carl said. “But it’s rooted in fear and projection. Has he been with anyone else since the two of you got together?”
“Not that I know of.”
“But you fear that he might discard you like he did this previous secretary after he’s gotten tired of you.”
“Something like that.”
“That’s totally normal,” Carl said. “Whether you’re twenty-five or forty-five. That part of your problem isn’t so much unique to the quarter-life crisis as it is to simply being human.”
“Oh, okay,” I said. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore then; my mom said that you just wanted to talk about the quarter-life stuff.”
Carl waved his hand dismissively. “Nonsense,” he said. “You’re here now, and I think talking about this is helping you to work through it.”
“I just feel like nothing is in my control. You know, when you’re growing up, you’re fed this idea that if you do the right things—if you get good grades in school, if you go to college—that life is going to work out, that you’ll have some clear direction and know what to do. But that seems like it’s one big lie, because I did all that and I don’t have any clue what I’m doing, and I’m even more confused than when I was younger. So for maybe a small percentage of the population, when it comes to people my age, maybe for them, it has worked out just how we’re led to believe it’s supposed to, but for the rest of us, we’re just kind of floundering around, feeling like we were duped.”
“You are certainly not alone in feeling that way.”
“And that’s what makes it even harder—when you feel like you can’t trust your feelings.”
“When you think you can’t trust your feelings,” he corrected me. “It is true that sometimes our initial feelings toward something might simply be a reaction, and that after we’ve had time to process it, we can see that there is a better choice to be made.”
“What do you think I should do?”
He smiled gently. “I can’t tell you what to do, Daisy.”
“You’re the professional, though, aren’t you? Isn’t that what people pay you for? Isn’t that why you’re writing this book?”
“I’m writing this book because this is a phenomenon that interests me. This is the first time this sort of thing is happening, in this magnitude, and I admit, I find it fascinating. But so far as telling people what to do—I think the best I can do is to say keep a clear head, listen to your thoughts and feelings, and don’t lose hope.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“I can tell you’re a smart girl. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. That doesn’t mean you’re not going to make mistakes, or things won’t be difficult for you sometimes, but I think you will ultimately find what it is that you’re looking for, even if you yourself don’t know exactly what it is at this moment.”
“Well, I appreciate that,” I said. “Thank you for letting me talk about all of this.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll leave my address,” I continued. “Or do you just want to use my email?”
“For what?” he asked, tilting his head.
“Um, for the bill. You know, for talking to me.”
“Daisy,” he said, smiling. “I’m not going to bill you. If this helped you, then I’m thrilled to hear it. You also helped me. I’d very much like to include significant portions of what we’ve talked about in the section of my book that goes over feelings, and how learning to trust our feelings is a crucial part of overcoming the quarter-life crisis. Any crisis, really.”
“Of course,” I said, feeling silly. “And . . . thank you. For talking to me. It really did help.”
I left his office, went home to change, and then headed down to the gym to meet Jonathan, feeling as though maybe I should just trust my feelings after all.
Jonathan had a big smile on his face when I showed up at the gym. I felt a little intimidated, as most of the people there were guys and they were all in stunningly good physical shape. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “Glad you could make it.”
I tried to ignore the looks of the other guys as I followed him through the gym, which was located in a converted warehouse, with an exposed ceiling. We went into a room near the back, which had a mirrored wall and a floor covered in green mats.
“I think it’s great that you’re interested in learning some self-defense techniques,” he said. “I think it’s a good thing for any woman to learn. But are you interested in it because of that guy? Is he bothering you?”
“He’s . . . been around. He hasn’t done anything yet, but it’s getting pretty creepy. I mean, I would’ve thought that he’d get it through his head by now that nothing was going to happen, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. So I was thinking that it wouldn’t be a bad idea if I learned how to protect myself.”
“Absolutely,” Jonathan said. “And you’re right—it has been a pretty long time for him to be dogging you like that. You know, I’m thinking . . . maybe we should have a few guys watch out for you.”