“Like I said.”
“So, why don’t you just reach out to her again?” Leo asks. “Maybe she’s changed her mind?”
I scoff and shake my head. “She certainly hadn’t changed her mind when I saw her earlier today.”
Leo starts coughing and choking on his soda. “Back the fuck up. What? You saw her today? Why didn’t you say that already?”
“I hadn’t gotten to that part of my story yet.”
He waves his hand at me again. “Go on.”
“I saw her today. In my office. Dr. Matthews introduced her as my new grader.”
Leo stops mid-chew, eyes practically bulging out of his head.
“Yeah. At first I didn’t know what to think. She was introduced by a different name, making me think she lied the other night. Then I mentally chastised myself for hitting on some young twenty-something. Turns out she didn’t lie about her name, she usually goes by a nickname, and she’s thirty.”
“Thirty? And she’s your grader?”
“Yeah. Apparently she started grad school, quit, and now she’s moved here to finish.”
“At thirty.” Leo looks skeptical. “Don’t thirty-somethings typically do online school or some shit? She picked up and moved to a different location for school? That’s odd.”
“I had the same reaction. She looked at me like I was being a dick, but I was just caught off guard. Anyway, I brought up taking her out and she shut me down, fast.” I shrug. “Something about crossing the professor/student boundary. I mean, I know typically that stuff is frowned upon by the administration, but isn’t that just for profs trying to hook up with the undergrads? Like the young twenty-somethings looking for extra credit or something?”
Leo shakes his head and laughs. “Or something. I don’t think there’s any official policy about it, but you should check. And I’m with you — the rules are different when you’re the same age. It’s not like this is some powerplay or whatever. You’re thirty-six, not fifty. And she’s thirty, not twenty-one.”
“Yeah. She also gave me the generic ‘now isn’t a good time for me’ speech. Since she just moved to the area says she doesn’t want to get involved with anyone.”
“Involved? That’s presumptuous.”
I chuckle. “Well, it’s not like I was asking her out just for a hookup. I mean, I’m not saying I want to marry the woman but I would actually like to get to know her. Spend time with her. Talk with her some more.”
“Shit, man. I’ve never seen you actually interested in anyone. I know you’ve hooked up with chicks every once in a while, but you’ve never gone past casual. Not in the three years I’ve known you.”
Leo and I are friends, but he doesn’t know my history. We’ve never delved into the past — there’s really no need.
“Yeah. I haven’t been really interested in anyone since my ex, and we split … six years ago? Seven? I don’t know, it’s been a long time though.” If I brush off Laura like she wasn’t a big deal, maybe Leo will leave this topic alone.
“You’re divorced? How did I not know this? Why didn’t you say anything when I walked through that shit? Misery loves company and all.”
Leo and his ex-wife, Stephanie, split two years ago after she reconnected with her high school boyfriend through social media and decided he was the love of her life. She acted like it was some romance novel kismet shit, when really she just drove a knife through Leo’s heart and abandoned her marriage.
“I’m not divorced,” I explain. “I met Laura in grad school and a few years later we got engaged, lived together for a few years, then split. There’s no big story to tell — we just wanted different things and went our separate ways.”
“How many years are we talking?”
“Shit. I don’t know. I haven’t thought about her in a long time. I guess I was, what, twenty-three when we got together? So, seven years?”
Leo looks shocked by my revelation. “That’s a long fucking time to be with someone and not marry them. And to just all of a sudden ‘go your separate ways’.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I dunno. We were in school, then I was working on my PhD and she was building her career. It’s a good thing we didn’t get married otherwise the split would have been messy. We didn’t have to go through lawyers and split assets or anything. She just packed her stuff and moved out, started her new life somewhere else, and I kept the apartment and continued working on my doctorate. She wasn’t crazy or anything. Like I said, we just wanted different things.”
Nevermind the fact that I didn’t have a say in whether or not our relationship ended. She informed me of her decision before work one morning, and when I got home that evening she was gone — left her keys on the entryway table. No note. No phone call. No text. Nada.
It’s not like the end of that relationship ruined my life, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t affect me. She never explained exactly what she wanted that was different from the life we had. I would have been willing to compromise and adjust our lives to accommodate herwants and needs, but up until that very morning I honestly believed that she was happy — that we were happy. Obviously, I was wrong.
Leo sees straight through my feigned nonchalance. “Just wanted different things. No biggie. And the end of that relationship has nothing to do with your decision to not get serious about another woman for the last six years.”
