Two Condoms

What does one do when they fall in love with someone like Mr. P?

“I’ve struggled with fidelity as an issue for 20-years,” he says. He says this to me because I asked him yesterday if he was being honest about any encounters he may have had since we started dating. He assured me that there had been none. Then he asked why I was asking.

I count the condoms.

Yes. I know it sounds crazy. But I count them. When I left for Wichita, there were 11 in the bedside stand. Yesterday, there were 9. We don’t use them. About a million red flags and fire alarms went off in my head. My heart started to pound. My intestines made a run for the hills. I felt weak in the knees.

He knew something was wrong almost as soon as he emerged from the shower. I tried to brush it off and collect my thoughts before asking. I didn’t want to come across as accusatory because I knew nothing had happened. We talked for a while. We agreed that he would keep trying.

“But I know trying not to will make me unhappy,” he said. I teared up.

“Are you unhappy now, with me? Trying not to see other women?” My voice sounded pitiful and weak. I felt a rush of guilt over my weakness. My vulnerability.

“No. You make me very happy. I’m very happy.”

So where was this purported unhappiness he was concerned about exactly? I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. I don’t know how to draw the fine line between me wanting to be forgiving when this first act of infidelity occurs and giving him the notion that I don’t care and will always forgive him. I may not.

The condoms hadn’t been used. They are tucked away in his jacket and his back pack.

“In case.”

I texted my baby brother.

“I don’t want to break up with him for something he hasn’t done yet,” I wrote.

“Girl, you’re not breaking up with him for something he hasn’t done. It’s the idea. It’s like not buying food that has high fructose corn syrup. It’s a policy. You’re sitting there saying ‘Well, said food hasn’t given me diabetes yet’ instead of being proactive. It’s not what you want, J.”

 

I left to go visit my Paki best friend. We played dress up before leaving for the Diwali party we’d been invited to. I had a couple glasses of wine. We talked. Her sister arrived.

The party came and went. I looked amazing and I was charming. I put on a great face. I’m so good at that, it’s almost pathological.

Mr. P was there. I largely ignored him. Or I tried to, and failed for the most part. I had more whiskey then I should’ve. We went home together, as usual, and I ignored him more.

This morning I realized I realized that I didn’t want a boyfriend who carried condoms around “just in case”. I didn’t. At all. Mr. P had gone from something I wanted to something I didn’t overnight.

It was very simple and quite clear all of a sudden, though less easy to put into practice.

Tonight I will summon the strength to tell him that I love him but that I need time to sort through if I can date someone I don’t want. It may sound like an easy choice but when you love someone the way I love Mr. P, it’s not. It’s just not that easy.