My eyes moved from the box to catch his gaze. His hair was graying on the sides and he really did look the twelve years older than me that he was. His eyes were a grayish blue. Very kind-looking. I felt like I was sitting across from my father. And I started to cry. Tears of confusion, tears of appreciation, I’m not sure which. I had never had anyone other than my father tell me I deserved anything. God knows I had never heard those words from my ex-husband, or any other boyfriend. They all seemed to feel that they as men were the ones entitled to things.
“Jennie, if I were twenty years younger, I’d be chasing you all over town. But I’m too old for that and just want to have the joy of giving you a very special summer,” he told me. “You have gotten the short end of the stick in lots of ways, but you get up every morning and work every day to improve the lives of not only your kids, but all the kids you teach. You are a beautiful person and have the opportunity to get back a little of what you have given.”
I think I’ve been haunted by When Harry Met Sally. It’s not the scary early 1990s fashion that has bothered me over the years, nor has it been the the famous orgasm scene. What has been underneath my skin since seeing that movie was the theory put forth by Billy Crystal stating that men and women couldn’t just be friends, because the sex thing was always there. I really didn’t want to believe that. But then wondered if it was true. And I still find myself questioning.
I know that the various authors didn’t write the books on it to shame anyone, and they do have helpful guidance in how to establish a better relationship than the anxious-avoidant one I had been trapped in- but it really did make feel like a dented can in the discount section. I was damaged, and only could make the most of my situation.