Me: Everything okay, Jacob?
No response. I sit on the couch and wait for what feels like forever.
It’s getting dark and I’m frustrated, but I’m also getting worried about Jacob. I can’t help it; I open up Instagram and look at his profile. There’s a picture fromtwentyminutes ago.
It’s a beach. It looks different than here. It looks tropical. The caption says:Nosara, Costa Rica, never lets us down. This perfection all day.
He went to Costa Rica and didn’t even tell me?He obviously has cell service and he’s not responding to my texts. I text again…
Me: Now I’m getting really worried, Jacob. Why aren’t you responding?
Three profiles are tagged in his beachscape photo. I click on the first one; it looks like a surf buddy. I thoroughly sleuth and put together that the guy is married. The second profile is another guy, same thing, married with kids. The third profile is a woman. She’s younger, very athletic looking. Most of her first photos are of what I’m assuming is Costa Rica. Then I come across one where she’s sitting on Jacob’s lap. It’s from a year ago. My stomach drops. They look like they’re sitting at a beach bar in some exotic location. There are other people sitting at thetable with them. She and Jacob are both laughing, seemingly unaware that a picture is being taken. He’s shirtless, she’s in a bikini, and his hand is on her thigh. One minute later, I get a text…
Jacob: Hey, sorry, just saw this. Let’s catch up sometime.
What?
Me: Catch up? Sometime?
Jacob: I’ll be in town next weekend. Drinks Friday?
Me: You know I can’t. I have my kids on Fridays.
No response. I wait. I know I told him which days I would be at the apartment. I’m so confused. I hesitate over Alicia’s number but I don’t call her; instead, I drag my feet into the kitchen, feeling bewildered and a bit unhinged.
Is this what being single is like?You go out with someone multiple times, think you have a connection, spend several consecutives Sundays with that person playing house, and then they disappear and behave as though you don’t exist? In this moment I feel expendable…easily replaced. Casual dating is only a temporary reprieve from our feelings of low self-worth. When reality sets in and the commitment is nowhere to be found, our self-worth plumets to an even darker depth of misery than before.
I fish a full bottle of chardonnay out of the refrigerator, then reach for a glass and an opener. After popping the cork, I fill the glass only halfway, as if I’m holding on to some attempt at decorum.
Who am I kidding?I take the dignified glass in one hand andthe bottle in the other and head for the bedroom…alone. This feels sort of like being married to Alex, but worse.
—
It’s been a week. Thankfully, I was busy with the kids and work. I actually didn’t see Alex at all. We were ships passing in the night…as it should be. Alicia has been hassling me about getting together. I know she’s going to grill me about Jacob, who did finally text on Tuesday, like it was no big deal. I asked him to meet me for dinner tonight, told him that I needed to talk to him. I fully plan to give him a little piece of my mind for what the kids call “ghosting” me last weekend. But first…I needed to deal with Alicia.
I’m headed to meet her for brunch at a little rooftop restaurant in Santa Monica. She was irritated that I asked her to drive across town, but I had packed a bag and figured I’d end up staying at Jacob’s, so I headed out to the Westside early. I’m sitting at a table waiting, sipping a mimosa, when I see her come in and chat with the hostess. Alicia is usually all business, but today her blonde hair is down in soft curls on her shoulders and she’s wearing a Boho-chic, light floral jumper. She looks relaxed and I’m relieved. I’m also dressed casually, beachy in a sundress and hat.
“Hi,” I say. I stand and reach out to hug her.
“I love driving one hour to go twelve miles on a Sunday morning.”
“It’s noon,” I say matter-of-factly.
“It was the morning when I left,” she says as she sits.
The waiter comes over and Alicia orders a mimosa. We’re looking at the brunch menu in silence and it’s making me uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry it’s LA. What was Mark doing today?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
She looks up and shrugs. “I don’t know, like going mountain biking or something.” She squints. “Why?”
“I’m just wondering. Making conversation. Are you mad at me, Alicia?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize how childish I sound.
“Mad? No. But I know why we’re down here. I know why I just drove an hour and paid forty dollars to park. I know it wasn’t for the view.” She gestures toward the semi-obstructed ocean view we have across the totally concrete parking lot below. “I know where Jacob’s apartment is, we employ him occasionally.”
“All right, let’s talk about the elephant.”
“This is like a woolly mammoth, Dani…tusks…extinct…the whole bit.”
