This is a fictional piece. Any similarity to actual persons or occurrences is purely coincidental.
“Hey, how’s everything going?” “Good. Why?” “Well, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately and … well, I’m worried about you.”
Jason came to me after I finally turned up in the office for a client meeting.
“You know, you missed a few fun office lunches. Larry did his dad jokes again.”
“Oh, really? He’s hilarious.”
“It’s alright. Hey, was your family around?” “No.”
“How about any friends?” “Yes, I’ve a few friends.”
“I think I can imagine some of the things you’ve been going through.” “You do?” “The loneliness. You must have felt lonely sometimes.”
“I’m good. Really. I have plenty of things going on.”
“Okay, For what it’s worth, you can always come talk to me about anything. Anyways, about that case …”
Should I be moved by the offer and the kindness? I know he meant well, but I can’t stomach the pitifulness lurking behind his caring tone, or the subtle and almost undetectable “I’ve been there and know what’s going on” attitude.
Should I be worried about me? Should I be worried that I’m physically unable to get up, that I’ve been procrastinating whenever I can , that my cynicism is over the chart, that I’ve been completely burnt out, that I am a borderline alcoholic… ? Or should I be worried if actually talked to colleagues or even superiors about all this? Thanks for caring but no thanks. It’s good enough Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now.
* * * * *
“Dude, something gotta give, you can’t live like this.”
Simon looked at me with his googly eyes when we were having dinner at a nice French restaurant downtown. Whenever we hang out, we do three things: complaining about work, talking about music, and sharing all the desserts on the menus. He couldn’t understand why I was willing to stay miserable while seemingly have plenty other options. I don’t. As a good looking straight white male coming from a first world country he has not the foggiest what keeps me awake at night even if he tried. I knew he tried. For him, things are always straightforward. He flakes when things do not work out for him. He moves on when he feels like it. He enjoys occasional indulgence, and indulgence is never an emotion outlet for him, well, except for buying expensive sweatshirts and hoodies and glasses. He moves all over the city for cheap sublets though he can probably afford renting any penthouse for the reason that he needs to save and invest in real estate back home. Most importantly, he never overthinks. Everything makes sense in his world.
“Just quit or do something else. You know, marketing, PR, business consultant, whatever.” He is the kind of mate who would not stop offering his unsolicited advice until you say “that’s a good idea; I’ll try it.” “Good. Let me know how it goes. I’m worried about you. Do you want the last scoop of the panna cotta?”
* * * * *
“Why are you still hanging out with this guy, JJ? He’s an egomaniac and that makes you a … masochist!” I’m sure JJ can hear me shouting in my texts.
She used to be the second pessimistic person I know, but she is all Miss Sunshine these days. She’s been seeing this finance bro who doesn’t give a damn about anything other than himself for a while. He asked JJ to find a contractor for his newly bought house, to get building materials, to drive him to work while complaining about her car, and other things I find too despicable to mention. How could she ever tolerate a guy like this? According to her, he made her laugh occasionally because he did something so idiotic that she would be struck speechless and then burst into laughters. She explained, “I already gave up on love. There is no such thing. I learn to know my self-worth, and don’t need any guy to tell me that by treating me like a queen. If I can tolerate him, I can tolerate anything. Isn’t that kind of zen? You are still a romantic. You are still trying to find that perfect one. That’s why you always looked so frustrated and pissed.”
“Your frustration comes from disappointments, not hopelessness. I’m worried about you; you won’t be able to find that person because he doesn’t exist.”
She kept writing me in a million short texts, “you are trying to find love in all the wrong places. Don’t you remember waking up in strange places and promising yourself that you would never put yourself in those situations again? Like the time that guy drove you to his Long Island house and his mom barged into his room at 3 am and shouted ‘you are supposed to go to work! Get your friends out, now!’ And you told me then you felt someone just hit you on the head with a baseball bat. For god’s sake, the guy was living with his mom and he’s too young for you! You are not in high school any more and you always act like you are. You have a good job and people around you are wonderful young professionals, can’t you just stop this nonsense of being self-destructive and start dating someone decent?”
“But,” she paused, “I will always be on your side no matter what choice you make. You know that right?”
* * * * *
Derek is one of the most pragmatic and non-nonsense person I know. He has the flair of flattering you and making you feel bad at the same time. He has everything he wants except a woman of his dream. He can switch from being the most caring person in the world to the biggest asshole in a second, and he would tell you he did not know what he did wrong. Then you would feel bad about not getting your messages cross. He would ask to grab a drink with you and suddenly all he did that has inflicted emotion harm on you would be water under the bridge. He empathizes with you 100 percent while does not understand you at all. He keeps you around and you somehow want him around but his presence and remarks make you doubt your choices constantly. He thinks all problems have solutions and you are only miserable because you have not tried enough.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, “just keep applying for jobs.”
* * * * *
My mom is smiling on the screen. We are 8000 miles apart and I haven’t visited her for years. She sent me text messages regularly and we occasionally FaceTime. She spent decades with a guy whom I tried to persuade her to divorce when I was a kid. She now takes very good care of him because he’s not well. I have no idea how she manages to always keep a smile on her face. I saw her cry, many times, and she would tell me I am the person she cares about the most on the surface of the earth while wiping the tears off her face. She always tells me she is proud of me, and tells me don’t forget to look back and see how far I’ve come.
“I’m glad to hear all’s well with you. I always know you will do great things.” She smiled at me, such that her tight and worried eyes would not stand out amidst the radiance of her smile.