Burgers with a Side of Truth

I will tell anyone anything. I can’t help it. I probably should get counseling for it. Like yesterday on the bus, I told a woman I’d never met before that I need a man in my life because I eat a whole large pizza by myself when no one is there to share it. And, on a date two months ago, I told Bob, this incredibly in-shape guy, that I go to the gym daily, I just haven’t exercised in two years. I’ll tell you the story of my life if you give me a minute (and by the end of this, I probably will); but I will not tell anyone how I finally found love. That’s just not a story I want to repeat out loud.

Of course, that doesn’t mean I won’t write about it.

It started three months ago. I’d like to say it was a momentous day, but it wasn’t. Like usual, I was running late. After wrestling with clothes that didn’t fit anymore, stubbing a toe on the floor (don’t ask!), and ignoring the usual grumblings from my donut-craving stomach, I finally got to my car. There I was, ready to hit speeds heretofore unseen by my old Ford (at least not since the day before), when I couldn’t. The spot beside mine was empty. He was gone. It was like my world was in a hay field at harvest time. It was hacked to pieces. John was gone.

Now, before I keep going with my story, I just want to mention that even though my stomach growls with donut cravings most mornings, I only actually eat them when I’m on time, which is almost never; so you can’t blame all of the extra pounds on them, maybe just one or two.

So, John was gone. I could say he was my downstairs neighbor, but he was a million times more than that. He was the muffled door slamming that meant I wasn’t alone. He was the garbled voice talking that kept me company at dinner. He was the bad music pulsing on a lonely Saturday night. And, even more importantly, he was my safety net. He was the only other single person in my town, and now he was gone and I was it. The Only Single One.

Now, don’t get me wrong. There are still single people in the rural, 3,000-person town that I lived in; but they’re not the marrying kind. No, they’re either still in high school, single for many really good reasons, or living out their retirement years in the nursing home. So, without John, I was it.

So what happened? Why didn’t we hook up? I really don’t know. I do know that I had been looking forward to it—anticipating it even, like you might a delicious chocolate brownie sundae after a not-so-great meal. I mean I lived on top of him, how suggestive could you get? But, that fact must have been completely lost on him. It just never happened.

I needed help.

“Jill, are you there? Jill, please answer,” I begged her voicemail. There was still no answer. Cell phones! 

Jill lived in Boston with her husband, two kids, two cats, and dog, and somehow found time to be my best friend.

When mom wasn’t there either, I knew it was a sign: I needed to get to work before I got fired. But, then again, on second thought, maybe I wasn’t in such a rush. I mean, if I hadn’t been working so much, maybe I would have been plotting out a way to seduce John. I mean, I might even have a lawsuit on my hands: Employee sues company over loss of love life. It sounded good; but in the back of my mind, I knew I couldn’t really prove there was a loss of love life. On second thought, it would all be pretty embarrassing.