As I got out of the car at the airport to give Jay a big welcome hug, he was all smiles.
But, before I got all the way to him, he froze in his tracks. He just stood there staring at me as though I were a complete stranger.
"What are you wearing?" he asked cautiously.
"What? This old thing?" I answered, glancing down at the brand new designer dress and strappy, high-heeled sandals I'd bought just for the party we were going to. I was going to give Stacy a run for her money. "You look so ... so ... different," he said, looking confused.
"It's just a dress. Lots of women wear them, what's the big deal?" I asked nervously—I had been self-conscious ever since I put the damn thing on. Without my usual get-up of jeans and a T-shirt, I felt like a fish out of water. "Yeah, lots of women who aren't you. I've never seen you wear a dress before. You just caught me off guard. Anyway, great to see you. Really great. Wow, so ... I, uh, yeah, well," he was stuttering. And was I mistaken, or was he blushing?
As we drove to Stacy's party, conversation was sparse and my head was spinning. He looked so good. Better than ever. He was dressed to kiss, I mean kill, and he smelled good enough to lick, I mean eat. My heart was beating out of my chest and I was sure he could sense the vibe I was sending out that said, "Stacy who? Don't hook up with her, she's all wrong for you. She'll never get you the way I do. Pick me! Love me! Because I certainly could see myself loving you ... All. Night. Long."
Just the thought took me by surprise. I hadn't felt like that for a very long time. Hadn't wanted to even think about sex let alone sit so close to a man and be overwhelmed by the desire for it. What a relief. After the horrible experience of being date raped months ago, I was beginning to think I'd never have a normal sex drive again.
"So, should we drop your bags off at my place before we go to Stacy's?" I prayed that he would agree and then I could change into my jeans. But more importantly, if he dropped his bags at my house, maybe he'd be less likely to want to stay over night with that sexy, seductress Stacy. Maybe.
"No. Don't bother, let's just head over there," he answered, not looking at me. Great. He was planning on staying with her.
My heart was beating out of my chest. I had to say something. I had to let him know how I was feeling before it was too late. Pull the car over, face him, say what you have been dying to say. Tell him that you can't stop thinking about him, about how much fun you have and how alive you feel when you are with him. Tell him that you cherish his friendship, but that lately you've been thinking that you want more; that you think you are falling head over heels in love with him.
My foot covered the brake as I glanced into my rearview mirror, getting ready to make my move.
"So," he said, breaking the silence, "this Stacy ... She's single?"
Foiled again. I put my foot back on the accelerator and concentrated on just getting him to his precious Stacy. The sooner I got him there, the sooner he'd be able to see for himself what a liposuctioned tart she really is. That she's all fluff and probably hasn't picked up a book since the 12th grade. Good for him. Good for all of us. If that's the kind of woman he's into then I'm better off. Whew! What a relief!
I was suddenly racked with guilt. I like Stacy. She's my friend. I don't need to compete with her or put her down—my God, how insecure am I? She may be a little flaky, but she does have a wonderful heart and has always been there for me. I'm a jerk! All she wants is the same thing I want: to love and be loved. Who was I to stand in her way? She was interested in Jay; he was obviously interested in her.
What made me think that I even stood a chance? That he wouldn't just laugh in my face and tell me to get a grip because all we are ever going to be is friends— good old-fashioned, platonic, bike riding, ice-cream-eating friends? My heart sank. The thoughts I'd been having about Jay had renewed me. It was such a wonderful feeling while it lasted. I'd felt young, alive and hopeful. But all of those feelings were dashed now as I remembered that I had agreed to set Stacy up with Jay. And that's exactly what I intended to do.
As we entered her palatial estate, I wondered again why I hadn't at least tried to divorce better. She spotted us immediately.
"Sonja!" she screamed from across the party. As she made her way toward us I took note of Jay. His eyes never left her and he was wearing that easy boyish grin that I'd come to love. She gave me a fake kiss on each cheek before turning all of her attention to Jay. Within minutes they were absorbed in conversation and in the middle of a room full of people, I suddenly felt very alone.
I slipped out of the party, and as I drove home on my giant pity pot, tears streaming down my cheeks, I said a little prayer. "Please, God, let it be my turn. Soon."
Sonja is a writer who covers the ins and outs of relationships. Or is it the ups and downs?