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I also curse the inconvenient way my brain is hard-wired to always have strange, unnecessary thoughts and commentary on literally everything happening around me.
We danced the entire night before he said those cliche words: “Do you want to come home with me?” And I did. And it turned out he couldn’t even find my clit. No way was I losing my virginity to a guy who couldn’t even find the clit.
I usually just smile and say that my book boyfriends more than fulfill me. And, I mean, I’m not wrong.
Being a doctor was chosen for me, but an ER doctor? I chose that. The chaos is strangely soothing to me. Not knowing what or who I’ll see on any given day is a blessing. Can it be stressful? Of course. Can it be heartbreaking? Without a doubt.
“I thought once you were out of residency, it would be easier. You’d have more time for yourself and your family.” I do. I just choose not to spend my precious time in my childhood home being dogged about how I’m 34 and unmarried, with no prospects in my future. I don’t want to hear my mother go on about how her children haven’t made her a grandmother yet. How in her day, women were having children when they were 19 and I’m going to miss all the “good ones” if I don’t stop messing around.
Do parents not realize this rhetoric is not only incredibly annoying and dated but doesn’t help to get their children to enjoy being around them?
My mom loves me. She just comes from a different generation with a much different focus.
“The only rule I have is if I’m giving it up to some random guy, he better know how to make me come, you know? Because I waited too long for it to suck.”
If I could choose a wedding, I’d elope. A tropical island. Bare feet.
When he came into the room both times, I felt strangely safe. Like some part of me knew he would take care of me, and not because it’s his job, but because he’s a good guy.
When I started reading, I found I could transport myself somewhere else, somewhere my mind couldn’t touch. It was magic.
But all I wanted to do was live in a fictional world and let my mind run away from me. There are only two times when my brain quiets down. Two times when the questions stop, the ideas pause, and my mind is blissfully silent. One is when the music is loud and all-consuming. The second is when I’m reading.
Each of them let me get lost and turn off my brain. Live in happily ever afters and watch the drama unfold and then wrap up neatly, unlike the real world.
It’s also probably what made me so picky that I’m a single virgin at 28. No one lives up to the fictional men who live rent-free in my mind.
“Are you an asshole?” “Never to you, kitten.”
“You’re not broken, kitten. You’ve just never found a man willing to work for it. Telling you right now, that man is me.”
“Consider this lesson one, kitten. If a man is going to make you come, you expect at the very least a meal from him.
Unknown: I don’t follow rules written by men. I accept your proposal. When are you free next?
When I sat with my own thoughts after dropping her off, I realized that the matchmaking was just my way in. To get to know her.
“Stop, Gabi. Stop now. One thing to know about me is I will never lie to you. I like your brain. Like how it runs off and the places it takes you. If I find out you’re hiding that from me, hiding that part that’s so you it drives me wild, I’ll get mad.”
“You two are little shits.” “Aunt Gabi said a bad word!” Nicky shouts. “You are little shits,”
“You’re going home with me or I’m going home with you. Either way, we’re leaving this hospital together, and you’re staying by my side all night so I can keep an eye on you.”
The fury running through me takes me off guard too. Not fury at Gabi. Not really. Fury at whatever man thought to even look at her. Because she is mine. For however long this thing lasts, Gabrielle Mancini is mine.
“So right here, right now, I want to make this crystal fucking clear, Gabrielle. You’re mine. That’s it. Mine. You don’t go out with other men; you don’t dress up for other men. You. Are. Mine. Do you hear me?”
I smile then take it, unlocking the door and pushing it open as she almost falls through. But I catch her. I will always catch Gabi.
“Gabi doesn’t need anyone making her feel like she’s different or annoying. She might be your little sister and annoying to you by nature—” He looks around at my brothers. “—and I get it. I have a little sister. But I’ll tell you now that I won’t stand for that shit as long as I’m around.”
I need this woman more than I need to breathe.
I’m Gabi’s first—and I’ll be damned if I’m not her last—but
Sure, we could have gone to one of our apartments. But sometimes you want a change in scenery for your mental breakdowns, you know?
Men are simple, stupid creatures.”
I’m crazy in love with this crazy woman.
Now, sitting in the apartment we spent so much time in—an apartment I’ve never taken another woman besides my sister back to, I realize I should have told her that. That she was the only one here. The only woman I’ve made dinner for. The only woman I bought expensive art for. The only woman to show me what life was missing and crave it.
“Why did you talk with Cassie?” “Because if I found out you were going on a date with any man other than myself, I would have gone fucking feral, Gabrielle.” My eyes widen. “Oh.” It’s the only thing that comes to my lips. A million words come to my mind, but all I can say is “oh.” Why am I like this? “Yeah, oh.”
But even so, his words remind me of what it’s like to be with him, of him being understanding of my quirks and always trying to help in any way he can. His constant efforts to make me comfortable. He works to make the world fit me instead of asking me to fit into the world.
“I want you to be mine. And I want to be yours. Not temporarily to teach you things or to get my mom off my ass, which was a bullshit excuse, by the way. But because I’ve fallen head over heels for you.”
“I want you clingy.” “What?” “I want you clingy,” he repeats, slower this time. “I—” “I want you to expect too much.” “I don’t—” “I want you to expect everything.” “Vic, I—” “I’m your match, Gabi.”
I am so confused. More confused than normal, which says a lot because I’m pretty much always in some state of confusion.
“Are you proposing?” Panic floods me. “No, Gabi,” he says with a laugh. “For one, I want to date you for real for a while. Date and fuck around with you and have time to introduce you to everyone I’ve ever met as my girlfriend. Have them feel jealous but also let those fuckers think on some far-off planet, there’s a chance if I fuck it up. Then I want to put a ring on your finger and take away that hope.”
“We can. We have passports. We can leave and run to Mexico. I’m sure they need doctors there. I took Spanish in high school. I could manage.” I don’t mention that I barely scraped by with a C minus because I cheated and wrote vocab words on my hand. My brain can barely function in English. “We’re not running away to Mexico.” “Fine. Let’s go to Florida. Get lost there. Change our names, become cast members at Disney World. I’m short. Maybe I could be Minnie Mouse.” My head tips from left to right, contemplating. “That sounds like fun.” “You don’t like confined spaces.”
