Obsession

I know that comment is an allude to some of the drawings I’ve done in the past, a kind of common theme in my personality if you will, but as much as I like to let my mind wander and imagine otherwise, ever since I found out the truth, this world has turned me into a cold hard realist, with perfectly socially acceptable and easily managed obsessions.

“There’s a difference between fantasy and reality”, I say.

“You tell that to your mother.”

“I think this one might be for real”, I add. “Of all the things I thought she’d bring back home, a boyfriend would have been last on the list.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know. What I do know is that he flies first class, he has a house in Manhattan and he’s definitely not married.”

I push the straws out of the way and sip the second glass of water down to the level of the first.

Alice lets the bourbon wet her lips while she pauses for thought. “Does he have any kids?”

“That would be way too weird”, I say. “Even for me.”

“I wasn’t thinking about you”, Alice jokes.

“Not that I know of.”

“How does she know he’s not married?”

“Mom’s been an air hostess for almost thirty years, which means she’s met almost every kind of person there is at points where they show their vulnerabilities the most. The moment you set foot in her cabin she knows pretty much everything about you. Believe me, she’s like the Sherlock Holmes of the 747. I spent an embarrassingly long time thinking she was some kind of special agent, but with the way she can pick someone apart in seconds, she could easily have been if her career as a trolly dolly didn’t work out. It made lying growing up a practical impossibility and it makes me sad to think she was so in love with my dad for such a long time she just couldn’t see he was lying to her. Either that or she just tried to ignore it. Anyway, if mom says he’s not married, he’s definitely not married.”

“That’s good”, Alice says.

“Is it? Just because he’s not married, doesn’t mean he’s serious.”

“I think you’re just jealous your mom’s found someone before you have.”

“That as well”, I say.

“Anyway, it could be the break you’ve been looking for. You know, if he’s rich, he might want to kickstart or crowdfund you, or whatever it’s called now. You could finally get your artwork in front of a massive crowd.”

“I don’t want to get my artwork in front of a massive crowd”, I say.

“Can you imagine the looks on people’s faces if those images from your sketchbook were blown up and displayed at one of those street art galleries in Williamsburg?”

The idea fills me with horror.

“There are a million and one things I’d prefer”, I say. “A new job for a start.”

“Everyone wants a new job, I thought you were more creative than that”, Alice says.

“The real world has beaten it out of me”, I say cynically.

“No wonder you’re single with that attitude”, Alice says.

“I said a new job, not a new man, you know Casper left a horrible taste in my mouth.”

Alice giggles at the image, and I can’t help join her, sniggering over the puerility of the double entendre.

“Anyway, it’s the weekend, you can forget all about that. If your mom can meet the man of her dreams thirty thousand feet in the air, there’s nothing to say you can’t five feet off the ground.” She swills what’s left of the bourbon round the glass and drains it back. “Are you going to have a real drink now?”

“I’ve got the car”, I say.

“I know that. Just leave it here and get an uber home or better still, stay at mine. We can make a night of it. Find ourselves a distraction.”

“Alice.”

“Come on.”

“I’m on shift tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I’m still on shift”, I say.

“Call in sick.”

Alice belongs to the group of people for whom sick days are interchangeable with days in which you just don’t want to work. I try a different tack because this could go on for a while. I don’t get paid for sick days, my asshole boss wouldn’t believe me anyway, and I need the money.

“I thought we were going to get food”, I say, realigning the glasses again, and then evening up the water levels with sharp sips from each straw in turn until perfectly equal.

“We can do that first”, Alice says amicably, side swiping through my attempt at a guilt trip.

I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you looking for a hook up, Alice?”

I think I already know the answer to this.

“I’m not looking for anything per se-.”

“I just wanted a quiet night to complain about the fact my life is going nowhere, some good food, a prime number of double rounds of water and a door I can close and check repeatedly is locked, and here you are, dragging me out on another one of your love missions again.”

“You complain about your life every Friday night, nothing’s going to change unless you decide to change it yourself, obsessions or not.”

I narrow my eyes at her again. “And I’m really really horny”, she adds, almost pleadingly, pulling a face like a lost puppy dog.

“Me too”, I agree reluctantly, stabbing what remains of the water in both glasses with morse code patterns. “It’s been ages, and Casper wasn’t exactly a lion in the bedroom.”

“There you go then.”

I sigh, louder than I want to and loud enough for two people on different sides of the bar to look over at me to see where the noise has come from. It’s a sigh of acceptance. This represents the two sides of my personality completely. One side wants nothing more than to drink my water, eat my food and drive myself home like a virgin waiting patiently for her wedding night, while the other side wants to enjoy Friday night like I should be able to without having to worry about the consequences, nor think too much about work. I’m too old to be working on Saturdays anyway, even if there aren’t any other options right now to change it. It takes a huge effort for me to let myself go sometimes, especially when both plans have their potential benefits. Although unlikely, I might meet someone tonight that changes my life for the better and I can see the merit in rolling the dice. But then equally, I might do nothing more than make myself feel worse about who I am, if I meet someone and they make fun of my somewhat obscure personality. Really it boils down to a very simple decision. Either I go home and feel safe but lonely, or I roll the dice and risk either shame or reward.

“Your water’s running out”, Alice reminds me.

She can see I’m mulling it over. She knows me too well to know this is anything but an easy decision for me. I know her well enough too to know that this was coming. It’s the reason I packed an overnight bag, the reason I left extra food out for the cat. It’s the push-pull dance we constantly find ourselves in and it wouldn’t be the same if I didn’t give some token resistance, however much I know what I’ll really end up doing.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone tonight”, I say.

Alice beams excitedly.

“I’m not getting drunk either.”

“You really have a very low opinion of me, you know that?” Alice says, eyes sparkling mischievously and hand in the air to signal the bartender back over. “And besides which, you can never say never.”

Chapter Two

I’m sure dating has got way harder than it used to be. I wouldn’t exactly consider myself the latest generation and most of the people I know of my age have met their significant others via some kind of internet app. Approaching someone, engaging in a conversation and then asking them out seems so outdated now it’s almost creepy. If you haven’t got a cell phone in your hand to give away your location and arranged your meet-up in advance (even if that’s only a minute in advance), you run the risk of being accused of harassment. God knows how the human race is going to survive if a whole generation of millennials only know how to hold a conversation if they do it via an internet messenger.