My work at the shelter didn't leave me a lot of free time during the day, so I didn't think much about Tristan or Andrew on Friday. That was good, because when I
did
think about it, I was nervous. I didn't really
want
to sleep with Tristan, but it was a means to an end. And I was worried how it would affect Andrew. I hoped it would disillusion him about the kind of girl he thought I was and the kind of girl he hoped I could be.
During the afternoon, Dottie and I were debriefing about a few cases we had processed that morning. I made some passing comment about how I didn't understand how these women could believe they really loved these men.
Dottie stopped looking through papers and stared intently at me across her desk. She pulled off her glasses and said in a surprised voice, "Love? Who said it has anything to do with
love
?"
"Well, in a lot of cases, they married these guys, they loved them, but when that love is gone, I don't know why they stick around."
"Honey, marriage isn't about love...not at first. Love comes later."
I thought she was joking.
Love comes later?
"Oh, what am I thinking," she said dismissively. "You're a product of the past century, when we started confusing romance and marriage. Don't they teach you these things at college?"
"I...don't know," I admitted. Dottie loved it when people were willing to admit their ignorance. She respected it.
"For centuries, millenia, as far back as we can tell, marriage was a social institution. There was an economic aspect, a social stability aspect. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, each party brought unique things into the arrangement and hoped to get something out of it as well."
At the word 'arrangement' I shivered. And I could picture the old lady from the restaurant talking about "give and get, honey, give
and
get."
"What mattered was the
commitment
. You committed to give according to what you had to offer, and you were promised to receive what you needed from your spouse. Women usually brought child-bearing and taking care of the home economy."
"And a vagina," I added snidely.
"True," she said, then lowered her voice and smiled, "but men brought a penis, so everyone evened out on that score." She giggled. "You'll have to pardon me, honey. I used to be a professor, and this is a bit of a hobby horse of mine."
I kindly said, "It's fine, please go on."
"Anyway, you weren't expected to
love
the person in order to marry them. A lot of times you barely even
knew
them. Can you imagine a honeymoon with a total stranger? It was all about getting to know each other, in bed and out."
"Sounds like rape, if you don't like the guy."
"And what about if the guy didn't like the girl?" she pushed back. "But nobody thought of it like that, not even the women. Sex was a social obligation, something that grew the clan, built a family. It was only recently that we started talking like our lives were strictly our own. Humans have usually held the more sensible notion that we belong to the people around us, and they belong to us.
Enjoying
sex was a luxury, though I dare say most people experienced that luxury, eventually."
This was quite a lecture. I couldn't help but draw the parallels between what Dottie was describing and what Andrew and I had.
"Love, dearie, love usually followed all that. And not the romantic love we make movies about now, that's just silliness. I'm talking about love that gives and gives and gives. And you feel free to give because they're loving you right back- you're getting what they give. That kind of love
binds
you to a person, even when you can't stand them sometimes."
I closed my eyes and held back a tear.
"So no, honey, it's not some twisted romantic idea of love that keeps these women coming back. It's the fear of losing everything- they've invested their identities, their futures, their emotions, and yes, their bodies in this relationship, and it's hard to turn your back on that kind of investment. Becoming 'one flesh' isn't just a carnal thing- it's your whole identity that merges with the other person."
"Sounds like you're justifying the abuse they get."
"Oh, no. There's a lot more I could say, but we've got some donors to meet downstairs in a minute. Let's just say that society was responsible to make sure each party upheld their end of the commitment. Make sure a husband provided for his family and treated them right. Make sure the wife kept the home responsibly and didn't deny her husband. What we see now is a breakdown of society's role. When we make marriage an individual thing, a private thing, a strictly
romantic
thing, well, we untie the ropes that hold the whole thing together. Now you
think
about that. I want to talk more about this when you're ready. I expect you to push back."
She got up to leave. I sat, wanting to process it and find ways to disagree. Societies change, cultures change, right? But what if our system wasn't working? What if we had lost something important when we demanded our independence?
"You comin', Gina?"
I shook my head to clear it, then followed Dottie down the stairs. As we walked, she gave a last parting thought on the matter, "My problem with so many people in our day is that they won't commit if they don't love. And to that, I say, 'You can't love if you won't commit!'"
*******
I saw Andrew for a few minutes after I got home. He was finishing dinner and putting his shoes on. I didn't tell him about my 'date' with Tristan, lest he avoid the house that night, probably to go star gazing. Let him come home, let him hear me enjoying a meaningless fuck, and let's see what he thinks.
As I cleaned up my room for the evening, it occurred to me that I didn't have any condoms. And I sure didn't think I could trust Tristan to be prepared. He seemed like the type who would try to talk me into going bareback on a one-night stand. I ran to the drug store down the road and picked up a few other random things, just so condoms weren't the only thing in my basket. Funny, I could have sex with a virtual stranger, but I felt self-conscious about the check-out lady knowing that, as a grown woman, I had sex.
At 11pm, I started walking. I knew I would be late, but hey, make the guy wait. I got there at 11:20 and couldn't find Tristan. He texted me saying,
Almost there
. I was miffed-
he
was making
me
wait. He showed up and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. We sat at the bar, tried a few house brews, and talked about Tristan. He did ask about my new job, but any little thing I said just sparked a new Tristan-centric narrative.
A few other girls sat near us during the night, so I felt the need to stake my claim. Putting my hand on his arm as we talked, and rubbing my foot along his calf, I made it clear that he was with me. And I think I made it clear to him that the night wouldn't end here.
A local band was playing jazz-funk in the corner, so it was easier to prolong our stay. Conversation became staggered, and eventually we just listened to the band.
Around 1:45am, I said, "Hey, I'm pretty buzzed, how about you?"
His eyes were glassy; he had been drinking almost two drinks for every one I had. "Yeah, I'm..."
