Beautiful Disaster

"So I think I should probably start by saying that I’m sorry. For what I did, back in spring, not that I think it’s hard to guess anyway what I’m talking about. And I really am, but honestly, I think it would just sound phony and fake if I said it right now. Guess I should instead start with how I got to actually really be sorry for my actions."

I have to admit, he sounds both more sincere than I expect, and is more honest than I’ve ever thought possible.

"Start with whatever you want. I’m not going to interrupt you." And I really don’t intend to, unless he gives me a real reason to punch him beyond those I already have. He seems to take my words for the shaky truce they are, and nods.

"Fair enough."

His eyes briefly snag away as if to resume the doubtlessly fascinating study of the tiles, but then he forces himself to catch my gaze again while he starts talking.

"Alice made me go to therapy."

He leaves the words hanging between us for a moment, and when I don’t add anything, he goes on.

"One day in early summer she handed me this business card of this

‘fabulous shrink’," he adds the air quotes with his fingers, "and pretty much told me to go see her. Sheila Cooper, sex educator and family therapist. I had a pretty hard time not laughing at first, then asked her if she thought that we needed counseling already, but Alice replied that it wasn’t for us, just for me. She thought I needed to talk to someone about my promiscuous habits, and that if I really loved her, I would just do it. So I did it, ignoring the usual emotional blackmail, called and made an appointment, trying very hard not to sound as amused as I was.

"First time I went there, Alice came with me, then kissed me good-bye outside the building and told me she would be waiting for me in the café downstairs. I have to admit, if she hadn’t been there I might never have gone inside. But I did, telling myself to just do this, tell that stuck up shrew I expected this Dr. Cooper to be whatever she wanted to hear, and be done with it."

He pauses here, but I don’t add the comment that shrinks are qualified personnel, too that he clearly thinks I need to offer.

"Anyway, Sheila turned out to be very different from my expectations.

Younger, more attractive, a very keen eye for bullshit and no tolerance whatsoever for the same. I tried to work my charm on her for maybe five minutes, after which she shot me down hard. Then she asked me why I was here for real, and I bluntly told her that my girlfriend wanted me to see a shrink, but I didn’t think that there were any issues to work on. Then I nearly fell over myself explaining that the no issues comment wasn’t just avoidance or defensiveness or something, and she let me talk myself into deeper shit still for another five minutes. All without uttering a single word, and by then I was ready to tell her my life story.

"But all she finally said was, ‘Okay, be that as it may, you don’t have to convince me, just pay cash up front and we’re done here.’ I was so surprised that I didn’t know what to say, clearly her ploy, and then she went on offering that maybe I might like to use this one time opportunity to just talk to a professional who wouldn’t judge anything I said if I was already here.

"At first I really didn’t want to, but she kept looking at me, so finally I explained again that I didn’t think I needed to talk about anything. She asked why exactly my girlfriend wanted me to see her, so I replied that she thought I had been a little too easy with the ladies, which I didn’t even deny, but she didn’t know all the reasons, which if she did would have made this visit obsolete.

"’Shouldn’t you tell her those reasons then? Honesty is important in a relationship, particularly if one partner feels insecure about something,’ she asked, to what I replied, ‘Well, the real reason why I f**ked every available nice piece of ass is because I was waiting for her to realize she only wanted me after getting to see more of the world, or more cocks, whichever comes first.’

"I got a raised brow for that, then a succinct, ‘There’s a circle in hell reserved for people who feel cocky about lying to their therapists, you know?’ which made me laugh. I told her it was still true, and the fact that I felt like I had something to prove to myself for a while after the accident that left me incapable of jerking off for half a year alone, and after that it just kind of got a habit, being the rebound guy. To which she, ‘Rebound guy?’, and I, ‘Yes, you know, the guy women pick up in a bar when they’re still all torn up about the ass**le who just left them, then have great sex with for one night, a week, or maybe even a month, and after that they move on because it was just sex. No harm done, fun for everyone involved, don’t see that there’s a problem.’

"I kind of expected her to at least be appalled, you know, the kind of most women get at that, but she just shrugged and said, all cool, ‘So how does that make you feel, no longer being a manwhore?’ I was really surprised at that, although I already started to wonder why, and asked her if she was like that to all of her clients. She shrugged and explained that it was her job to be what her clients needed – lending calm comfort and understanding for a nervous mother who just found out her child was g*y and was simply too confused herself how to handle the situation well as a supportive parent; a strong sounding board for the cheated upon wife who was trying to get on with her life – but as she didn’t get the sense that I required either, why should she keep up that pretense?

"She obviously had a point, so I told her that I didn’t mind not sleeping with three different women in a week, and I was very happy with Alice. And added that I found it rather funny that she called me a manwhore as my best friend used to do that all the time.

"’So he did?’ she wanted to know, in that typical way shrinks do. Had to correct her there – ‘She, actually, my best friend’s a girl.’ I clarified. She nodded sagely at that and gave me one of those condescending looks, of course I had to set things straight. ‘She’s not a booty call. I mean, yeah, we had sex, but not like that. And it wasn’t just her and me, but her, me, and her boyfriend. Who’s been my roomie since college.’

"Of course then she wanted to know if my girlfriend knew you both. To which I, ‘He’s her best friend.’ You should have seen that smirk she then put on. ‘How long ago was that? The last time you had sex with them,’ she wanted to know. Calculating quickly, I, ‘Maybe three months ago?’

"’Might be a lucky guess, but could it be that this is the real reason you’re here?’ was her succinct retort. And not much I could say about that, right? I kind of gave her credit for weaseling that out of me as she did, so I figured, what the heck, before I ramble on about some random girls I don’t even know the names of anymore, why not talk about that? It’s not like I could say anything to Alice after she called the topic discussed enough.

"The weird thing, or guess professional side about her was that she didn’t seem curious. Just someone who would listen. It was a bit unnerving at first, but then she started asking a few questions, so I told her how I met Bella when I moved with my family up North. How I met you in college.

More like random stuff then, really, until she asked how we got to have sex."

He pauses there, and I can tell that my utter lack of reaction is unnerving him, but not much to say about that. It feels strange listening to him recount our past like that with a nearly clinical detachment, then again I have no idea how often he has told the same tale already.

"So I told her the whole story about that weekend. How I’d met Jessica Stanley at the liquor store and she asked me how Bella was doing, and I was all, ‘Why shouldn’t she be doing great?’, and that skank told me that Bells had walked in on her and that other hussy with Mike. That clearly surprised the good doc.