Читать книгу The Dating Resolution - Hannah Bernard - Страница 8

BREATHING in the familiar scent of chalk, Hailey squirmed into the small seat behind the dwarfish desk and faced her friend from the perspective of a nine-year-old. “I’d like to make a statement,” she announced.

“I’m holding my breath,” Ellen managed to say around the pen between her teeth. She pulled a thermos out of her briefcase and filled the yellow plastic cup. “Why can’t thermoses ever keep coffee warm more than a couple of hours?” she complained with a grimace after spitting out the pen and taking a sip. “Someone should do something about that.”

“This is an important announcement. Put down your coffee and pay attention.”

“Sounds serious. Is it about your New Year’s resolutions?”

“Of course. What else would it be this time of year?”

Ellen made a show of pushing her coffee away and leaning back in her seat. “Well, let me hear it.”

Hailey sat up straight, preparing for her dramatic declaration. “No more men!” she called out, emphasizing it with a sweeping hand gesture.

“Uh-huh,” Ellen said, returning her attention to the pile of paper in front of her. “Right. And you’re going cold turkey on chocolate too, aren’t you?”

“Well—”

“…and doing daily sit-ups?”

“Well—”

“And getting up earlier on weekends?”

Hailey frowned. This was the annoying thing about friends. They knew you too well. “This time, I mean it. Seriously. And for more than two weeks.”

“I see. Why? Must be pretty urgent since you invaded my classroom to tell me.”

Hailey glanced around the third grade classroom, empty of children, but not of children’s presence. Classrooms never were. “At least I waited until the kids were gone. Although,” she added darkly, “if someone had told me the truth about men at an early age, I could have joined a convent straight out of high school and saved myself a lot of misery.”

“You mean you hadn’t already figured boys out by third grade?”

“Nope, stars in my eyes until I was nineteen or so. I guess I was a late developer. Hence all the scars on my heart.”

“Aw, Hailey.” Ellen made a sympathetic sound, but her pen did not pause on the paper she was scribbling on. “Why are you really here?”

“No other reason! I just wanted you to be the first to know. Especially as you’re always dragging guys in my direction.”

“No more men, huh?”

“No more men. As in, you’re not allowed to set me up, introduce me to guys, or in other ways work against my resolution.”

“I see. And are you—in principle—swearing off men for good?”

“Well, no,” Hailey admitted. “I haven’t entirely lost my faith in half of the human race. Not yet.”

“Phew.”

“It’s me. I’ve been making so many mistakes when it comes to guys. So, I’m taking a year out.”

“A year?”

“Yep.”

“A whole year?”

“Yes.”

Ellen put down her pen and leaned forward. “Hailey, do you have any idea how long a year is?”

“Three hundred and sixty-five days. And don’t make me calculate the hours. I’m lousy at multiplication.”

“An entire year?”

“Yep. One year. No men. No dates. Nothing. I’m going to pretend the other sex doesn’t exist.”

Ellen tossed a finished sheet to the side and grabbed the next one. “And—assuming that there is a problem in the first place—how’s a year out going to solve anything? You’ll be in exactly the same situation after a year has passed.”

Hailey tried to get comfortable, but in a chair that size, it was close to impossible. Someone had scribbled a swearword in crayon on the desk, and she rubbed at it with a finger, although she could well echo the sentiment. Maybe third-graders got their hearts trampled on too. “No, I won’t. That’s the whole point. Think, Ellen. What do our lives revolve around?”

Ellen pushed her glasses up above her forehead, displaying the tiny wrinkles between her eyes as she pondered the question. “Do you mean practically or philosophically?”

“It’s not a trick question.”

“I don’t trust you. With you, everything’s a trick question.”

“It’s simple. What is the one thing we’re always thinking about, always talking about?”

“Is this one of your veiled ‘What’s the meaning of life?’ questions?”

“Guys! That’s what our life revolves around. Even most of our conversations revolve around guys.” Hailey banged her fist on the table in emphasis. “I am sick of spending my life sifting through men in search for an elusive—perhaps even mythological—nugget of gold.”

Ellen grinned, gesturing with a pencil. “Well, you’ve got to admit, sifting can be fun even if you don’t always strike gold.”

Hailey stared over Ellen’s shoulder at the chalk-board behind her. “Imagine—all those gold prospectors back then. Spending years, decades, their entire lives, hoping to strike a treasure, sacrificing everything else—home, family. All most of them ever got was disappointment, pain, sweat and tears. Even those few who thought they’d been lucky—so often it turned out to be fool’s gold.”

Ellen returned her attention to third-grade spelling problems. “It takes an IQ higher than mine to follow your analogies, Hailey, but I’m pretty sure you’re being depressing again.”

Hailey shook her head. “My point is, why are we doing this?”

Ellen got that annoying dreamy look on her face. “I know the answer to this one. Because true love is somewhere out there waiting for us—only it’s a bit hard to find.”

“No. True love is society’s myth. Don’t you see? We’re being sucked into a global lie.”

“I see.” Ellen sounded rather unconvinced. “Love is a worldwide conspiracy. Are aliens involved?”

“Whether true love exists or not, the truth is that the real reason we subject ourselves to this is because it’s expected of us. Because we’re considered inferior if we’re not part of a couple. We’re caving in to social pressure, and for what?”

Ellen opened her mouth, but Hailey barged on, not allowing her to interrupt. She was on a roll. She’d spent her entire miserable, lonely—even in a crowd—New Year’s Eve composing this manifesto in her head and Ellen would hear it whether she liked it or not. “Broken hearts, that’s what we get for trying! Lousy dates, broken hearts and plummeting self-esteem each time one of the many idiots in the world displays his true colors.” She leaned toward Ellen and the tiny table creaked alarmingly. “Don’t you see? We’re not doing this because we want to, but to fulfill the role society expects of us. It all comes back down to biology. Despite all our technological advances, modern man—modern woman—is still very much a slave of biology when it comes to happiness. When women aren’t mothers, they aren’t happy unless they are actively engaged in the pursuit of someone to father their child. It’s that simple.”

Ellen gave her a wry glance. “I knew it. You’ve been reading those feminist pseudoscience books again.”

“In a nutshell, my discovery is this…” She paused for dramatic emphasis. “There’s nothing wrong with being single.”

Ellen failed to look impressed. All she did was shrug. “As that seems to be our ongoing state, I should hope not.”

“But we feel there’s something wrong with it. It’s an instinctive feeling, almost like it’s a biological force programmed in our genes. And that’s exactly what it is. It is biological.”

“Good Lord, Hailey! You’re overcomplicating things. What’s wrong with wanting a partner in life? It’s just human.”

“Exactly. That’s my problem.”

“Your problem is being human? Well, welcome to the club.”

Hailey looked down and mumbled her next words. “You see, I’ve discovered something about myself, and I don’t like it.”

“What is it?”

Hailey took a deep breath before making her confession. “I’m a relationship addict.”

“Oh, God, more psychobabble.”

“I am!”

“Is that a terminal condition?”

Hailey glared at her friend. “Why do I always confide in you? Zero sympathy. Zero understanding. Worst of all, zero co-dependence. Aren’t you supposed to be my best friend?”

“Okay.” Ellen started piling stuff into her briefcase. “I’ll be good. Tell me about your relationship addiction.”

Hailey bit her lip. She probably sounded like she was being flippant about this, but the pain and humiliation of her self-discovery cut deep. “I am not happy unless I am in a relationship.”

“Come on! That’s not true!”

“It is! This is why I hurry into a relationship before I’m ready, before the guy is ready, before either one of us is sure this is what we want—before we even know each other. Then when we break up—for whatever reason that is—I rush to the next relationship, anxious to do it right this time. It’s a vicious cycle.”

Despite her promise, Ellen was rolling her eyes again. “Come on, Hailey, it’s not that dramatic.”

“Case in point. Dan. You never trusted him, did you?”

“Well…”

“You knew he was a rat long before I did. Long before I wanted to know. But I was so desperate to have it work out that I ignored all the hints, all the lies and deceit…”

“Love is blind—”

“No! Love is not blind. I’m blind. And I was on the rebound when I met him, remember? Things weren’t much better that time around, either. It’s a vicious cycle and I’ve been stuck in it.”

“Hailey, fess up, you’ve been watching those daytime psychobabble shows, haven’t you?”

Hailey crossed her arms on her chest and scowled at her friend. “Fine, fine, make fun of my brilliant theory. But it comes down to this. Will you support me in my decision?”

“A year with no dates?” Ellen shrugged. “Sure. Can’t hurt. A year is nothing. I’ve had longer dry spells than one year. Just make sure you always have plenty of chocolate on hand.”

“I’ve given up chocolate too.”

“You can’t give up chocolate and men, Hailey! That’s not a resolution, it’s self-torture!”

A good point. “You’re right. I’ll give up chocolate next year.”

Ellen snickered. “So, what happens after the year has passed? How is this going to help?”

Hailey shrugged. “After a year my mind will be clearer. I will have broken free of the cycle. I will be better able to sift through the mud.”

“Mud?”

“Men.”

“Mud equals men—and you still want one? Something isn’t adding up here.”

“When I get some distance, I will gain a new perspective. I might be able to tell real gold from fool’s gold. Or—” She shrugged. “This is also a possibility—I might have accepted the fact that Mr. Right is nothing but a romantic myth and that I’ll be a lot happier if I stop trying to create reality out of a pathetic girlish fantasy.”

Ellen grimaced as she pushed the stack of papers away and reached for her coffee cup again. “Ouch. I’d like to stick with fantasy, thank you.”

“Why build castles in the air if they’re just going to come crashing down on your head? I mean—why would we need a man to the level of being almost desperate for a relationship? We’re modern women. We can do anything we want. Right? Right?” It was a battle cry, but not surprisingly, it had little effect on Ellen.

“Uh…right.”

“Damn right! We can have companionship, friendship, a social life, a career, even children—whatever we want without bringing ‘love’ into it. We don’t need men!”

“Uh…Hailey…remember, that thing men are good for?”

“What?” Hailey stared at her friend, frowning. “Oh, that. Well, I’ll just have to pay for it, I guess.”

Ellen sputtered coffee. “Pay for it?”

Hailey raised an eyebrow. “Fixing roofs and leaking sinks and such, that’s what you meant, wasn’t it?”

“No.” Ellen shook her head for emphasis. “No. That’s not what I meant. You know very well that’s not what I meant.”

“Maybe I’ll just buy myself some tools.”

“Tools?”

Ellen looked intrigued now. When Hailey figured out why, she tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling with an exaggerated expression of disgust. “You have such a dirty mind. I mean tools tools. You know, for fixing the roof and such.”

“Oh,” Ellen muttered. “Okay. Never mind, then.”

“Well, you’re right, there are things a woman can use a man for if you want to be old-fashioned and dependent and stick to traditional roles—but he is definitely not necessary. I’ll just go forth and purchase a cute little toolbox of my very own. I mean, it’s not like there’s any good reason why I shouldn’t be able to fix the roof myself.”

Ellen was looking confused now. “Which roof are we talking about, anyway?”

“A rhetorical roof.”

Ellen nodded. “Right. I think I had one of those once. It did leak. But you know, a toolbox isn’t going to whisper sweet nothings and cuddle you while you sleep.”

Hailey shook her head. “The cuddles come at too great a price. This will be great. I’ll make new friends, I’ll start taking classes and find myself new hobbies, and I can stop worrying about my love life, stop dreading every weekend—whether I have a date or not.” She leaned on the small desk, gesturing earnestly. “Over the holidays I started thinking—why am I doing this? Dating makes me miserable. I’m happiest when I take a break from all that. Unfortunately I never get away with it long, before someone has set me up, and I always agree to go, thinking this time it might be different. Why do we do that? Why are we so hung up on this ridiculous idea that there is a perfect guy for us somewhere out there? Where does this true love myth come from?”

“Don’t. You’re making me depressed.”

“Exactly. Just the thought of there being no Mr. Right has us depressed. So we get desperate and take all kinds of crap, just to avoid the horrible, terrible, paralyzing thought of being still single at thirty. I’ve had it. I’ve trusted too many liars, wasted too much time on losers. It stops here.”

“Hailey, you’re being ridiculous. Okay, so you’ve been unlucky with some of your boyfriends…”

Hailey sent her a look.

“Okay, all of your recent boyfriends,” Ellen amended with a grimace. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a decent guy for you out there. Somewhere.”

“Ah, the elusive someone somewhere sometime. Maybe mine is in Alpha Centauri, born approximately in the twenty-fifth century?”

Ellen pointed at Hailey with a pencil. “I’m serious. There’s someone out there for everyone. More importantly, your bad luck with guys does not mean there’s something wrong with you.”

That was the point, wasn’t it? There was something wrong with her. Simply a dysfunctional pattern, she hoped, not a personality flaw. Something she could work through, habits she could break. That was what this year was all about. If there was a gold nugget out there, she’d never find it if she kept her nose in the mud simply out of desperation. “I just need some time to myself,” she said, her tone low now. “Away from the dating scene. I need a chance to break free from this evil cycle—then I can start afresh.”

“Hailey…”

“Don’t you see? It’s necessary for me to get out of my current dysfunctional pattern. Embrace possibilities. Can-bes instead of must-bes.”

Ellen rolled her eyes, but Hailey could nevertheless detect a glow of sympathy and understanding. “I will support you in this, but Hailey, you’re definitely watching too many talk shows.”