Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“Sounds noble.”
“But the more time and effort I put into my workouts and myself … I started to grow this resentment in my heart for every nice guy I saw. It was like they had become the part of me I hated. When I looked at them, I saw my past. I saw niceness as weakness. I saw what I was running away from with every bicep curl, with every protein shake, with every burning fire in my legs as I did my squats … with every drop of sweat that ran down my back.” My jaw tightens. “And I hated them.”
Tim reaches across the table and pats my hand. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I wrinkle up my face. “Huh?”
“I bet you feel loads better, too.”
“Not really.”
“You know what a profile pic actually represents?”
I shrug. “A lie we visually tell in order to get a date who ultimately won’t be into us? That’s what my best friend Prisha sorta used to say.” I feel a pang of hurt when I realize what I just said. “My … ex-best friend, that is.”
“Hmm, maybe. Here’s another theory.” He takes my hand. “It’s who we want to become. Our friends may mean well, but they tend to hold us back. They want to keep us exactly the way we are, because it’s comfortable for them. Family, too. But how else are we supposed to free the spirits of our secret wishes, other than through expression of such things as a different picture of ourselves, or clever words in a dating profile? Maybe the pic I swiped right on isn’t so far from a truth that’s buried inside you.”
“What truth? That I secretly wanted to be a dominant gym-rat asshole?”
“No. That you desired confidence.”
I stare at our hands, taken by that thought.
“So the question isn’t whether you’ve become something you hate,” says Tim. “You really haven’t. You’re still you. It’s whether, after this rather insane and slightly destructive journey you’ve apparently taken, you finally have acquired the confidence you always wanted … the confidence you might have unknowingly been admiring in people such as Danny’s ex.”
I eye him. “You really were listening to everything I was saying, huh?”
“Yes. It’s a character flaw, my interest in others.” He clears his throat. “I recommend contacting Danny again sometime soon, but not before taking a good look in the mirror—just as he advised. But don’t do it with hate or regret. Do it with hope and inspiration. It’s sexier, and Danny would like it that way, I truly believe.” He lets go of my hand and rises from the table. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go check out a sex store we passed a few blocks ago. I’m in the mood to wear a ball-gag tonight, even if it’s just me alone in my apartment jerking off. What’s a single, dateless guy left with anyway, except his hand, his mind, and the freedom to jerk?” Tim gives me a pleasant smile, then turns and disappears into the rain.
I sit at that table awhile, staring at the hand he let go of. Thoughts dance around my mind, torturing me, taunting me. I feel like I’ve ruined everything. I’ve gone about all of this wrong. I’ve thought about all of this wrong. I have made a total, selfish mess out of my life.
And it all started with that kiss I should never have stolen a year ago. A kiss I didn’t deserve.
Maybe Joey was right. I had no right to kiss Danny. That was wrong. I see that wholeheartedly now.
Am I feeling sympathy even for Joey? For some shallow, meathead jerk like Joey?
Perhaps that was the point all along.
My mind was just as closed as his.
A sudden buzz in my pocket startles me. I pull out my phone to find a text from my dear partner-in-crime Jonathan asking whether I’m banging Danny yet.
I decide to call him back. “Hey, man. I’ve got a question for you. Do you ever miss Jonty?”
He sputters like a gasping water faucet before answering. “Say what? Huh? I haven’t been called that in … I don’t even know how long. Why the hell are you asking that? Is this … Is this your post-sex euphoria when you get all thoughtful and philosophic?”
“This is me wondering what the hell I’ve been doing with the last year of my life—and what for.” I hug myself as I sit at this empty table, the rain bringing in the cold, too. “I think I miss Rome.”
“You’ve never been to Rome.”
“You know what I mean.”
He snorts into the phone. “Look, I dunno what’s up with you right now, but I’m about to bang the hottest chick I’ve met in months, and you’re … kinda totally killing the mood.” He lowers his voice. “And to answer your question, I don’t miss that Jonty loser one fucking bit.”