An Inhuman Condition

V: Don’t Tell

She’s avoiding me. I can’t bear the thought of it, but that’s exactly what she’s doing. It’s so hard to communicate with other people that I don’t know why I give a damn half the time. This seems pretty serious; it’s not the usual doghouse, I-fucked-up, kiss-and-make-up kind of problem. I know her well enough to see that some serious shit is going on in those pretty, green eyes. It scares the hell out of me because I want this to work out. The way she looks at me has changed. There’s this deadness in her eyes where there used to be bounding excitement. They were bright, moist and magnificent before and now they’re dry and heavy and pale.

I don’t know what to do. I ask her if everything is alright knowing that it isn’t. I do it again and again because it’s the only thing I can think of. Nothing ever changes. I guess I keep hoping that this time she’ll finally tell me what it is and let me fix it. Where I’m at tonight, growing old doesn’t scare me because I’m already limp and impotent with her.

Why won’t she just talk to me about it? Is it some sort of terrible secret? Maybe she doesn’t love me anymore and doesn’t know how to tell me. Every time I say it, she’s always quick to respond – maybe too quick. It’s not like there’s any feeling in it anyway. Maybe she’s fucking someone else now, and I’ll just have to get over that, move along, and be a decent chap about it.

What is wrong with women? It’s like everything has to be a goddamn puzzle just for the sake of being mysterious. Magicians don’t even guard secrets like women, but I don’t know any female magicians. Maybe they keep their secrets so well that I’m not supposed to know they exist. Either way I’m sick of the tricks.

I used to play a lot of computer chess when I was younger, but I was never very good. I grew tired and impulsive quickly – never thought moves through after the first ten or so. I remember I could never find a balance in the game difficulty. On the easy setting, I would win every time and it wasn’t a challenge. But when I bumped it up two notches, I was obliterated. I could never play at this soul-crushing, dignity-bruising level so I would just quit. I remember playing a whole lot of chess at that intermediate level though. I don’t really remember winning. I think the computer was still much better than me, but it felt like I could win. I lost so much time trying to win against the thing that it seems foolish now.

There are days when I think that’s what relationships are. The easy ones aren’t gratifying, the hard ones make you give up, and in the middle are the challenging ones that keep you playing every day even if you never win. That no-mans land is where love lives, and if you stray away from the warm center, love fades.

It would all be easier if she would just talk to me. It’s difficult now, and I’m struggling so much that I’m losing hope. I feel my faith in this game fading, and I’ll never figure out how to put us together once she saws us apart.

Just tell me already.