One evening a couple of weeks ago, a group of us hung out at the pool, then we met back up at the pub later and played pool. (Speaking of games, that's one I'd like to get better at.) Among the group was a very nice man who needed a friend. He needed someone to listen, and maybe even to share a little life wisdom to remind him of his options.
He's married.
While we were playing pool, he started talking. His marriage was troubled. He wasn't happy, and he told me his wife had cheated. More than once. The worst part, she was in the hospital at the time, and he just couldn't leave her now. That evening, he was taking a break from being at her bedside.
Then he walked me home. He talked some more and I listened. Then he kissed me and wanted more. He wanted a break from being married.
"I can't. You're married," I said. "You have some choices to make, and I won't be the one to make things even more complicated."
He nodded and kissed me again. I told him I would be his friend but that's all. Then he left.
This is hard to say, but he wasn't looking for a friend. Something must go through men's minds.
"Well, if she listens so easily, she'll fuck that easily, too."
No, I didn't mean that! This is a really screwed up form of intimacy. And where does it leave a single girl?
What's difficult is that I do care. I empathize too easily and want people to be happy. I want him to be happy. But it's not an open invitation into my pants. If a married or a single man needs a therapist, then I'll treat them like a patient.
"Time's up," is what I'll say next time.
In hindsight, it was the right decision because I haven't heard from him since. I would have been a one-night solution to his life-long problem.
Time's up.
Love to the single girls,
Addison
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