Last weekend, when I was catching up with E, I told her about the guy I’ve been seeing. (You remember, the one I’m not blogging about.)
I mentioned something, it must have been a little hesitant, about the pattern of our correspondence.
“Huh,” she responded. “How long do you think that’s gonna last?”
“You know, the whole game-playing thing.”
Now might be a good time to note that in a few weeks E and her boyfriend will celebrate four years of being together.
I wasn’t sure how to respond to this for two reasons:
1) I hadn’t really considered whatever anxiety I expressed to be part of any sort of “game.” To me it just felt a natural aspect of the regular early courtship routine. You know, my life.
2) Assuming that it could be construed as “game-playing”–whatever that means–I have no idea when, or even whether, it does end.
The feeling that it might not probably comes from something I recently read: specifically, a nonfiction essay by Brian Doyle that is one of the best pieces I’ve come across in a while. (Not surprisingly, I read it in this year’s Best American Essays.) It’s called, “Irreconcilable Dissonance,” it’s about divorce, it’s about 1000 words, and each sentence is around 100.