dyslexic heart (part 2)

A few days later, Patty invites me over to her place and what seemed like a normal evening turns awkward at the end, when I try to kiss her goodnight. She says something about things going a bit fast for her. I’m confused but act supportive.

We continue to hang out and have sex over the next few weeks, until one night we meet for drinks and I feel a strange vibe coming from Patty. It feels funny and leaves me a bit ill at ease. Two nights later she calls, clearly upset, and tells me we need to talk. She won’t tell me over the phone, but asks to come over the next day and discuss what’s bothering her. I accept. Patty also—with much hesitation—informs me she’s in the company of Alessandra at some bar. Ugh. Dreading some upcoming bullshit, I head to my corner bar to have a few drinks and not think too much about the next evening’s conversation, which I assume will only be bad news for me.

A few drinks into my visit, Patty and Alessandra pass in front of the bar, seemingly drunk, arm in arm, on their way to Patty’s place, I assume. I’m enraged and think of yelling at them or calling Patty on the phone and cursing her out, but I calm down and decide to wait for the next day’s uncomfortable conversation, instead.

So, the next evening, she comes over and we talk. I listen to everything she has to say and then hit her right back with questions and statements of my own. I pretty much left no stone unturned. The gist of it was, we could not be a couple because she didn’t feel the same way about me and wanted this to be reciprocal. I make it crystal clear that she could not expect the same attention from me if we were platonic. She says she wouldn’t expect it to be. Patty then says she needed to bring all of this out in the open because what was making her so upset was our ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement, largely due to my feelings for her. She was feeling guilty that I made her feel beautiful, adored and loved and she couldn’t reciprocate. I told her that was my dilemma, not hers. Patty disagreed and said she felt she was hurting me by not being able to give back in the same way.

She then tells me nothing happened with the ex. Patty was a bit drunk, Alessandra walked her home and crashed at her place. I mention I saw them the night before, and she says the three of us would’ve probably had a drink together. (My friend Mark says they should’ve taken ME home. Heh, heh.) According to Patty, in the past, Alessandra has wanted to get intimate with her in similar situations but she’s declined. I believe her. And even if I don’t, or she’s not telling the truth, it doesn’t matter: she isn’t—and won’t be—my girlfriend, so, why even think about it? (I later find out they actually did have sex that night, which would explain her hesitation about telling me she was meeting with her ex the previous night, but we’ll get to that later.)

So, in the end, what did Patty and I decide that evening?


Um, to be…


…‘friends with benefits.’


Yeah, I screwed up. I had the opportunity to walk away from this nonsense—and was prepared to do so, thinking she was going to ask for us not to see each other anymore—but instead let my dick and my heart overwhelm and drown out the cries for rationality from my head. This is my fault and I’ll have no one but myself to blame when the shit eventually hits the fan. (Well, not exclusively; later on she’ll carry some of that weight, too.)

I told Patty that some 10 years prior, in my late 20s—when I was her age, actually—I was in a similar situation and the girl would not be my girlfriend but was willing to be FWB. I wanted all or nothing, so I walked. But what I’ve learned from life—and the Rolling Stones—is that you can’t always get what you want; things happen for a reason; and that you should appreciate what you have, whichever way it comes to you. And that I wanted her to feel as comfortable and as free with me whether we’re having a drink in a bar or having passionate sex in my bed, not wondering if I’m thinking she’ll change her mind and be my girlfriend. And that proof of that was I’d been on a date a week prior and planned on going on some more to see if I can find what she won’t give me. (Yeah, I know, I know. But hey, the night before Mark introduced me to a girl that I wanted to pursue, and was definitely going to ask out.) So, citing my experience in these matters, Patty accepts.

Bad move. But at the time, hanging out with a very pretty girl whose company I enjoyed and was willing to sleep with me was not the worst thing in the world. Or so I thought. I’d also been in a ‘pink moped’ phase when it came to women (unattractive women = pink moped: it’s fun until your friends see you) and my ego needed/wanted Patty. My head has its own theories but it can’t come to the phone right now.

As Patty prepares to leave we make plans to go to a bar for my friend Edie’s birthday, that Saturday. That day Alessandra cockblocks me by tagging along with her all afternoon and night, to the point of showing up with Patty at the bar. I’m INSANELY pissed off but keep my composure. Patty promises to come over and make up for it the next day. She does and profusely apologizes for the previous night. We then have some amazing sex. We’re back on track it seems, and the pattern continues for a bit. One evening after sex at her place, Patty even serenades me on the piano afterwards and I’m both flattered and blown away by her talent. Still, it feels weird. Especially when Patty uncomfortably lets on she’s got a date the next day. Hey, I don’t care: I just got laid. But I suspect who it might be with.

A few days later Patty comes over to my place and after a few drinks denies my request for sex, citing once again her discomfort with the ‘friends with benefits’ situation. We argue intensely for about 90 minutes, and decide to go our separate ways. We leave together: she’s going home; I’m heading off to another friend’s birthday party. I assume it’s over between Patty and I. And with the exception of bumping into her on the subway 6 months later, it is.


Not quite.