“Right, world’s greatest dad,” he muttered. “See, we could’ve had this little debate in the store. I could have been a real professional and recommended something better. It’s a flirting tactic.”
“Actually, that’s called ‘negging’ and it’s extremely toxic.”
“Well, I didn’t get many opportunities to communicate with women at that place so I’m extremely rusty.” He looked me in the eye. I’d forgotten what that felt like.
“I’m Hal.”
“Sam.”
“Nice to meet you, Samantha.”
I wasn’t lookingfor a boyfriend. Columbus was a temporary pit stop on my way back to grad school and I intended to keep it that way.
“Don’t ask me out,” I said. “I don’t want any reasons to stay here.”
He never did.
Instead, I asked to go back to his apartment later that night.
It wasn’t because I thought we were about to embark on a magical romance. But with lockdowns and maintaining a six-foot bubble, it’d been so long since another person touched me. I was horny for something more than a few seconds of gratification courtesy of my own hand.
The first time was competent, from a mechanical standpoint. I think I was too nervous to really enjoy myself. But after I spenta second night on his floor futon, it felt like something genuinely clicked between us. I didn’t even have to fake orgasms and we’d stay up late having great conversations. The whole vibe was intimate—more than just a hookup.
But we never could have sustained a three-year relationship from just sex.
The more we got to know each other outside of the confines of Hal’s room, the more I craved all the intangibles of a relationship that seemed 90 percentthere.The other 10 percent didn’t matter. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend; I’d been looking for Hal.
With my empty mornings and his habitual underemployment, we spent a lot of time together. We’d meet at a coffee shop because he’s the rare specimen who says he’s “writing his manuscript” and proceeds to actuallywriteit, rather than browse websites, place expensive items into his cart, and then never check out. Which is a thing I definitely don’tdo.
If you want to level up, you’re supposed to practice with someone who’s just above your rank. Since I spent so much of my life feeling like the smartest kid in the room, being with Hal felt like the best kind of challenge. The excitement of being around him elevated my days. I had something to look forward to all the time.
On good days it’s a benevolent elixir concocted by a Wiccan herbalist. Sometimes it’s a hex: a dangerous love potion that I gulped down without leaving a drop for the would-be object of my affection.
We never revised the status of our relationship after that first day. Even after I eased up on doing a full face of makeup before hanging out. Even after I received my final rejection email and Columbus became even less temporary.
Spending time with Hal took the edge off that disappointment.
We’ve followed the sexual trajectory of an official relationship: there are times when I sleep over and we just cuddle and fall asleep.
Then I helped Hal get a job at Lokahi. I couldn’t escape him if I tried.
And I have tried.
It doesn’t take.
Hal and Iwatch blue-shirt-and-khakis take a long sip of his blueberry schnapps-infused Zombie. He puts the glass down. Frowns. Contemplates. His brow creases as he lets his date’s half of the conversation float through one ear and out the other. Hal and I watch his thought process like he’s loading animation on an app. Will he say something? Will he choke it down?
It’s the dumbest kind of mischief. And Hal only does it to people who are clearly being obnoxious to their dates. Maybe we’re bored and feel a little wronged by our circumstances. In a fair world, I wouldn’t have soul-crushing student loan debt, I’d just have the normal amount that I could reasonably pay off in, like, fifteen years. I’d be a teaching assistant for a contemporary art course. I’d be staying up until 3a.m.working on my dissertation. Maybe Hal would’ve gotten a literary agent and a modest book deal. I guess we handle it by meting out tiny misfortunes to people who seem to deserve them. Together.
Hal’s hand brushes the back of my hand very lightly. I stifle a laugh.
Then blue-shirt-and-khakis takes a smaller sip. A look of resignation. Surrender.
We exchange a little smile and I continue to replenish the garnishes.
After work, Hal drives me to his place. We don’t discuss it, we don’t plan it. It’s just what happens.
He has the advantage of living in an apartment where his mother isn’t reading a Kristin Hannah book in the next room. I’ve never brought anyone back to the office to have noisy sex on the daybed. I can’t risk the ultimate mortification: a strange man walking in on Perry as they use their Waterpik in the apartment’s sole bathroom.
