I nodded slowly, like I was taking it all in. “OK, define excessive. Like, if I do this…” I took her wine glass and set it on the table before grabbing her in a huge bear hug, leaning over, and smothering her face with my chest. “Is this excessive?”
“Stop it!” She tried to get out of my arms, but I was much bigger and stronger. “I can’t even breathe!”
“So this is excessive? That’s what you’re saying?” I released her. “OK, good to know.”
“God, you’re such an asshole.” She moved away from me on the couch and smoothed her hair.
“Just want to be clear.” I picked up my wine glass. “That one seemed a little vague. The rest I think I’ve got—you want to sleep alone, you don’t want to talk all the time, and you especially don’t want to talk about feelings.”
“Right.”
“So those are all the things we can’t do. What’s on the yes list?”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Sex. With a condom. For a limited time.”
I nodded. “Got it. Sex with a condom but without feelings for a limited time. And what do you have against feelings exactly?”
“Not all feelings,” she said defensively. “I like the guys I’ve been with. I just don’t get all gaga over them because it doesn’t last, and someone always gets hurt if they think it does.”
“‘Always’ seems unduly harsh.”
“I’ve never seen a truly happy marriage. Someone is always faking it or lying, or they’ve just settled into a comfortable pattern and don’t have any motivation to change things.”
“What about your parents’ marriage?”
She made a face. “Please. I love my parents, but my dad has affairs and my mother looks the other way because she’s too obsessed with her job to care. I think she’s glad she doesn’t have to pay that kind of attention to him anymore. That’s not love.”
I shrugged. “Love is different things to different people. Who are you to judge?”
She sat up straighter. “I’m not passing judgment on anybody, nor would I want anyone to pass judgment on me. I’m just saying that the notion of true, everlasting love is a crock of shit, and people who believe otherwise are temporarily deluding themselves, blinded by desire, or just plain foolish.”
“You’re right, you’re not at all judgy.”
She pinned me with her favorite dirty look before taking a big swallow of wine.
“What about Alex?” I challenged. “He’s in love. Which one is he?”
She sighed, slumping against the back of the couch and staring into her glass. “Alex. I don’t know.”
“He and Nolan seem pretty in love and have been for a long time. Is that a crock of shit?”
“I will admit that Alex and Nolan have been together for years and seem genuinely passionate about each other. But I’ve never seen it last forever, OK? And everyone expects it to. I’m just being truthful.”
“Being truthful,” I repeated. It’s being scared, is what it is. But I couldn’t say that to her. Not yet.
“Yes,” she said stubbornly. “And no one can blame me for that.”
“I’m curious.” I put my arm on the back of the couch behind her. “How does it usually go when you give the rules to guys who are interested in you?”
She shrugged. “It goes fine. Some of them love it, actually. I think they’re relieved to meet a woman who’s not looking for a ring, just a good time and good manners. And if they don’t love it, well then… They can move on.”
“And what happens if you actually fall in love with one of these well-mannered commitment-phobes?”
She shook her head. “That will never happen. I’m smarter than that.”
“But what if it did?” I pressed. “You can’t control your feelings. Even smart people fall in love.”
“Then I’d break up with him.”
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s gonna end sooner or later, and I might as well be the one to do it,” she answered, as if it were obvious. “At least then I’d know when it was coming.”
I shook my head. “Did you not get enough love as a child or something?”
“Oh, God.” She gulped down the rest of her wine and set the glass down. “Look, I’m not saying love doesn’t exist in some forms. I got plenty of love as a child. I love my family. I love my friends. I even love my life,” she said, throwing a hand in the air.
“So it’s just romantic love you think is doomed. Relationships.”
“Eventually, yes.”
“Don’t you ever worry that you’re closing yourself off from something a lot of people find joy in?”
“Nope. I have plenty of joy in my life. And I’m never hurt or disappointed.”
“Are you happy?”
A look of surprise flitted across her face. “Happy?” she repeated, as if she’d never considered the question. “Sure, I guess so. Happy for now, anyway. But what else is there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Happiness is always a ‘for now’ thing, isn’t it? People think, ‘What do I want right now? Oh, this candy bar. Those shoes. That purse. Another piece of cake. Another piece of ass.’” She spanked her hip and gave me a coy smile. “But what we want changes over time, so what makes us happy changes over time.”