“The thing is,” he whispered, “I’ve found your weakness.”
“What’s that?” I whispered back, smiling.
“You fall in love.”
I stilled, and a chill ran down my spine.
His voice sounded strangely sinister, and I caught my breath. That was the moment; the moment I realized that agreeing to a date after the incident might not have been the best idea.
“You must have misunderstood my text!” he said earlier. “I’ve been thinking of you.” And because I wanted to THINK I had made a mistake, I allowed myself to take the rap.
“But it SOUNDED like a dump,” I insisted. Of course it didn’t matter, because apparently I was wrong. And because I am always willing to admit when I’m wrong, or at least bite the bullet if it smoothes things over, I swept it under the rug.
And then after a strange week of being manipulated, I realized this: I’m going to try very, very hard never to fall in love again. I don’t want to be controlled, pressured, or made to feel inadequate, weak or crazy.
Sweet Jesus in heaven isn’t there anyone out there who is slightly normal?
Sure, I’ve got weaknesses; Bar-b-que chips, cheap shoes, vodka, the ocean, laughter, Stephen King and my kids. But I never thought that my ability to love would be my greatest weakness of all.
Well, I’m going to try very hard to never, ever make that particular mistake again.