Millennial's Monologue: Secret Dramas in Our Hearts & Souls

9

My cell phone rings.  It’s Brian.  I tell April I really need to take this call.  “It’s a guy that broke my heart.”  Her face says it all, she is about to tease me, but I hurriedly go outside.  Clearing my throat and saying in the cutest possible voice, “Hello Brian.”   

“Hi, is this a good time to talk?”

I mean, not really but I always drop everything I’m doing to listen to your stories.  He is slurring his words and he sounds really drunk.  April and I are in the middle of a very emotional conversation and maybe for once I should ditch a drunk dick for a sweeter chick.  I tell him I will call him back when he sobers up tomorrow morning.  

“Sorry about that.” 

April doesn’t say anything.  Just a sly smile and sparkling, inquiring eyes.  

Waving both my hands, I respond, “Nah, unfortunately, he is neither my ex nor current boyfriend.”

“Who is he then?” 

I first met him at my friend’s housewarming party in Midtown, NYC.  I was invited by my upperclassmen friends from college, who decided to live together in the high-rise apartment called Epic, after getting job offers from investment banking and management firms.  It was on the rooftop of that apartment by the pool table that I first set my eyes on Brian and developed an instant crush on him.  I still vividly remember everything about that moment—the nervous jitter, the heat and the humidity of the summer night, the starless black sky, and the panoramic view of the city that never sleeps.  The whole building was full of ambitious, up-and-coming yuppies looking for like-minded yuppies to date and network with, but I was only interested in Brian.  

It makes for a beautiful movie scene when a guy falls in love at the first sight of his future wife, but it’s quite sad when a girl falls for a guy first and has to deal with unrequited love for a long time.  In my case, almost two years.  That night, another guy asked me out and I’d been using a dinner date with him as an excuse to make a trip to the city every weekend and try to get lunch with Brian.  Shame on me, I know I’m not as saintly as I want to be. I feel bad for the other guy, but he works at a hedge fund and I’m sure I didn’t break his bank.

“Just a jerk that refuses to love me,” I tell April.

“C’mon…” 

“Fine. I love that guy.  In fact, I want to marry him.” 

“What?  How long have you known him?”

“Two years.  We spent over a thousand hours on the phone sharing our thoughts on every topic imaginable, but he is refusing to man up and ask me out.” 

“You know why?”

“He's a religious guy that doesn’t believe in premarital sex nor dating. He said he is saving everything for someone truly special but I'm not the one.  He thinks I’m hot but I lack inner beauty.”

“Ouch!  Are you a virgin?”

"No. . . far from."  I feel my face getting all pink and flushed.  "Anyway, despite that explanation, he is not the holy man he professes to be.  Like most yuppie guys with a six figure salary, he's been spending most of his free time drinking and drooling over girls in some swanky, hot clubs and bars in Manhattan.”

“Oh . . .”

“Yea, he’s been claiming he is an ‘all or nothing’ guy but he keeps calling me whenever he feels insecure, whenever he feels lonely, and whenever he feels horny.”

“He does sound like a jerk.  There are so many guys out there, why do you love him?”