The Non-Dad Stuff

This is part one of a three part series.

I met Sarah almost exactly six years ago. I lived in an apartment in Kalamazoo, Michigan. I would like to say that I was (airquote) single (/airquote) at the time, but the truth is that I was kinda/sorta dating a married woman who was kinda/sorta staying with me. I was also on some pretty hardcore antidepressant meds. So, obviously, this was a healthy situation. The care that I felt towards the married woman quickly turned to something more sinister. She couldn’t decide what she wanted, where she wanted to be, or who she wanted to be with. Yet, she always ended up back at my apartment. And I always let her in. The nice guy in me refused to leave her without a place to sleep.

I met Sarah because she was manager of the apartment complex (I paid my rent to her). She worked at a different property and had recently transferred to the one I was living at. I went to the office one day to drop off the rent check, and that’s when I saw Sarah. I remember thinking, "DAY-UMMMMMM," but didn’t say anything aloud, aside from telling her that I didn’t need a receipt.

Around that time, I started the next of many anti-depressants because the previous drug wasn’t working. This new one they put me on turned me into a thoughtless, feelingless zombie. I would literally sit on my patio and stare at the sky for hours at a time. It was eerily similar to the guy from Office Space, after he got hypnotized. After a few weeks, the drugs equalized in my system. I could feel again, but my emotions had the volume turned way down. Sarah would walk by from time to time, and I found myself thinking about her more often.

One day, I decided to go talk to her. I did what most men do, I started everything on a lie. I lived in a two-bedroom apartment and told Sarah that I was thinking about downgrading to a single bedroom. You know, because I was single and didn’t need the extra space. The lie was telling her that I needed or wanted a one bedroom. I was, in fact, quite happy with the space I had. I didn’t lie about my status though. I told the married woman that I just couldn’t do the back-and-forth thing with her anymore and that she needed to either make things right with her husband, or find other arrangements. This innocent lie led to a bit of small talk. I asked Sarah about her weekend and she said something about having gone skydiving because it was her birthday, so I then shared my skydiving story as well.

When I figured it was a good time to take my exit (and leave her wanting more), I said "Well, it’s too bad I missed your birthday. I’ll have to take you out and buy you a drink sometime."

Shortly after, the married woman came over. I was sitting on the patio when she walked up. The meds I was on left me with little inhibition, so I started the conversation as she neared me.

"I don’t care," I said.

"What? I wanted to tell you-".

I continued, "You’re like a virus."

"What?!"

"A virus. You’re like a virus, and I’m tired of being sick."

"What does that even mean? I came here to tell you that I wanted to be with you."

I spread my hands in front of me and shrugged my shoulders.

After staring at me for a couple moments and seeing the complete absence of emotion on my face she yelled, "You’re an asshole!"

She stormed off in a fashion that reminded me of those people that speedwalk through the shopping mall in the mornings before all the stores open. Moments later, the sound of her tires screaming on the pavement marked her exit from my life.

By this point, Sarah and I had done nothing more than hang out, with maybe a little kissing here and there. We went on more dates and had a few more making out sessions as the weeks passed. She refused to refer to me as her boyfriend because she (airquote) hated titles (/airquote). Anytime I even hinted at anything more between us, she would shoot me down with a single sentence.

"Not while you’re married."

[to be continued]

NOTE: I did not hit on Sarah the same day that I broke it off with the married woman. I told her previously that I was done with her crap. It was later that I finally decided to talk to Sarah. The married woman stopped back over at some point (I assume because her husband told her to screw off as well) to talk to me. That was the day I called her a virus. Thanks for asking me to clarify that, Sarah.