“A journal. Make a note of anything and everything you notice, even if you think it’s not important. You never know. It might help.”
He rolls his eyes, and I glare at him until he throws up his hands. “OK, fine. I’ll journal. Geez, you’re still a hard ass.”
Ugh. I have not missed his whining. Right now it’s pretty hard to remember what I ever saw in him.
The line at the coffee shop near my flat is so long by the time I get there, I have to skip takeout coffee and opt for the awful instant shit at work in the breakroom. I’m in a bad mood by the time my shift starts, and my temples throb with an impending headache. I’m lifting the notes from the base of the first patient’s bed to check them when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Adam: do you have moisturizer?
Oh my god. I thought it was impossible for him to get more annoying. I was wrong.
Jen: I’m at work
Adam: yeah but can u just tell me if you have any? My skin feels so dry
I shove my phone back in my pocket and try to concentrate, but it’s constant. I try answering, I try not answering. It doesn’t matter. The relentless texting continues throughout the day.
Next there’s a snapshot of my bathroom counter with the caption:which one of these is foundation?
I avoid the temptation to ask him why he wants to know. There’s no possible good answer.
On my lunchbreak I actually call him, but he doesn’t answer. That’s even worse! Why did I think it would be a good idea to leave him alone in my flat?
When he finally calls me back part way through the afternoon, I break the rules to slip out and answer. “Adam, what are you doing and how much is it going to cost me?”
“Jen, never mind that. Jen you’ve gotta come home.”
Fuck. “Why?”
“Don’t laugh, OK?”
“Trust me. I’m not laughing.”
“There’s definitely something wrong with me. I’m not kidding.”
“Adam, I don’t have time for this.”
The phone buzzes.
“I just sent you a picture. Please promise me you won’t laugh.”
Curious despite myself, I pull it away from my ear and look. I almost choke on my own spit and drop my phone. Then I have to look behind me to check no one is there.
I know very well what it is. I would recognize that dick anywhere. Unfortunately it has now become my yardstick for what I hope to find the first time I’m with someone new. There are lots of things I don’t like about Adam.
So many things.
His dick is not one of them. I wish it was.
His dick is what made me weak enough to keep answering his calls after we first hooked up, and I have nothing but regrets about that.
I blink. Because Adam’s dick in the picture is flaccid. Not his normal MO.
“Jen? Jen, are you there? Please say something.”
I pull the phone back to my ear in a hurry, covering my mouth with a cupped hand and lowering my voice. “OK, so you have a dick. I know. I’ve seen it.”
“It won’t get hard.”
