I should be enjoying the shopping summer fundraiser I’m attending. It’s in a fantastic two bedroom, two bath RENT STABILIZED Central Park West apartment in the mid-80s. Instead I am melancholy, wondering why Town and Country has not texted me about our date.
Being ignored has given me time to think about last night’s conversation with Meera and Lucy. Logically my head understood what they said. I agree there is a strong possibility that Town and Country wants a casual relationship on his terms. By no means do I discount Meera and Lucy’s words urging me to resist making a regrettable mistake. However, they both have found really nice, decent men to love them. Of course, I know what Meera and Lucy endured during their search for THE ONE. We girls belabor discussions of Love, the Battlefield. But I can’t stop feeling entitled to thoughts of, “sure you went through this, but I’m still a foot soldier stuck in the trenches and I think my gun stopped working a long time ago.”
My tendency to submit to hope is making a muck out of things. Not only does it have me desiring someone who ignored me for months, I have also convinced myself that Town and Country and I could be more than a time pass. I mean, this is New York. He could go out with one of a million women, no strings attached, right? Yet, he contacted me, a love-seeking prude. See how rational I can make something irrational sound? I have become public enemy number one against the State of Desi Girl.
The fact that I no longer feel good about myself is not helping. It has been a long time since I was that potent and plucky woman who packed up her Midwestern life and landed in Manhattan. The pain and sadness seem to become stronger and more powerful everyday. Loneliness makes me vulnerable to the electric chemistry I feel towards him. It renders me helpless, a moth drawn to a Town and Country flame that will burn me. And I can do nothing to stop it, because my heart is more willful than my head.