Page 6 of Wild Thing
“Death by a thousand cuts.”
“Exactly. These past two months he's been trying to convince me that I should want the same things as him. And because I don't agree… somehow that makes me the worst person alive.”
The woman remained silent, giving me space to unload while looking at me with knowing, sad eyes.
“In the last argument, hismothergot involved,” I told her, as she winced.
Zack's mother, Jennifer, was so fucking nosy, always poking around where she shouldn’t. Apparently the sun shines out of her sons ass and I should be thankful to bask in the glow of it.
“She brought up our ages, stating that we should ‘at the very least’ be living together, and that it was ‘time to consider the future,’ because my biological clock was ticking.”
At the time, I'd made a passive aggressive joke about my ovaries shrivelling and drying up like dried raisins now that I was thirty. The joke went down about as well as this plane… rough.
“Then all hell broke loose as the argument went from my supposed lack of commitment, to my utter lack of respect.”
Something that is not sexy? A man who allows his mother to get involved in his relationship. I swore to myself then and there if I ever had a son, I would not be the type of mother Jennifer was.
“Zack would never tell me this, but I get the sense he wants a woman just like his Mom.”
Someone content to play Suzy Homemaker and raise the kids like it’s 19-fucking-50. I guess to some, that’s a happy life.
But not for me. That’s a living hell.
And right now, my skin felt scorched from being too close to the flames.
“That’s a shame, honey. But good for you for standing your ground. It’s not easy.”
“I guess. But, according to the world, Ishouldbe settling down, embracing the possibility of getting married and having kids. But the truth is, I can’t summon a flicker of enthusiasm for any of those things,” I said, picking at my fingernails. “Not with him anyway.”
The flight attendant swept the cabin for rubbish, tidying up after the in-flight service. I faked a smile as I handed her my empty plastic cup, before stowing away my tray table.
Unblinking, I resumed my blank stare out of the window. Below, the approaching city unfolded into controlled chaos. Tiny cars darted across the overlapping highways. I wondered where they were all going.
How many of them were living their lives on autopilot? How many were stuck in shitty relationships? How many of them were like me?
Turning towards the woman seated in 6F, I quietly asked, “You said if you had your time again, you wouldn’t have married your husband. Can I be nosy and ask why?”
Giggling to herself, she tucked her book into the pouch on the back of the seat.
“Don’t tell my kids this,” she smiled, knowing perfectly well that we'd never cross paths again. “Now my Jim, he is a great husband. He has provided a wonderful life for me and the boys, and I love him dearly,” she stated as she glanced down at left hand. She twirled her gigantic diamonds around. “But, he wasn’t the one.”
Wasn't the one?
I studied her closely, aware this could be a valuable life lesson for me. “You love him, but he wasn’t the one?”
Make it make sense.
“Honey, you can learn to love anyone if you spend enough time with them,” she placed her hand across her heart. “But you can’t force connection or desire if it’s not there.”
The plane continued its turbulent descent, banking to the left, causing the loved-up couple to squeal, before going back to making out.
“That,” the stranger nodded towards them. “That is what you can’t force. That undeniable attraction. That insatiable need for one another.”
I knew what that felt like. I'd had it once before. Years ago. It had been a long time since I'd felt anything remotely close to that.
Reaching into my bag for some chewing gum, I wondered if true romance was just the stuff of fairytales, taught to us when we’re young and impressionable so we embrace domesticated life with less resistance.
Or maybe true romance did exist and I was just a cynical brat.
