“So I’m not broken,” I say.
“No,” she replies. “You’re adjusting to a life that asks something different of you.”
I lean back again, slower this time.
Which feels like progress. Or exhaustion. Hard to tell.
Pee-Pee watches me for a moment, then speaks carefully, like she’s lining something up rather than dropping it on my head.
“What I’m hearing,” she says, “is that when you talk about relationships, you don’t actually talk about sex very much.”
I blink. “That’s because we’ve spent the last hour talking about my spectacular lack of it.”
She smiles. “And yet.”
I frown, considering that. I don’t like it when she’s right without effort.
“You light up when you talk about your brothers,” she continues. “Not their milestones. Their relationships. The way they exist alongside someone.”
I open my mouth to disagree. Close it again.
“Do you want what they have?” she asks.
The question is simple. That’s what makes it dangerous.
“I think so,” I say. “Yes.”
“And do you know how to build that?” she asks.
I wait for an answer to arrive.
Nothing does.
My mouth opens. Closes. I huff out a breath. I’m starting to resemble a goldfish.
“No,” I admit. “I’m very good at the beginning. The easy bit. The chemistry. The attraction. I’m less good once it gets… real.”
She nods, looking not the least bit surprised by my revelation.
“For a long time,” she says, “your life rewarded movement and novelty. Short connections made sense. They were enjoyable. Low risk.”
“And now they’re not,” I say.
“And now they’re not,” she agrees. “Because what you’re craving isn’t novelty. It’s familiarity. Safety. Being known.”
That word makes something twist in my chest.
“Being known is… uncomfortable,” I say.
“Intimacy often is if you are not used to it. She leans forward slightly. “So let me ask you something,” she says. “When you date, how quickly does it become sexual?”
I hesitate. “First date… maybe the second if I’m extra patient.”
“Because that’s what you want,” she says, not unkindly.
“Because that’s what I know how to do,” I correct.
She nods. “Exactly.”
