The Girlfriend Game by Sierra Hill

Eight

Kendall

There have been moments in the past ten years of my practice when I’ve felt like I made the right career choice. When I’ve made a substantial breakthrough with some of the toughest clients which sometimes took months or even years to diagnose and treat. It’s like the act of peeling an onion. With each layer that’s stripped away, more and more of that individual’s psyche and psychological trauma is exposed until you finally reach a point where you can see the whole picture clearly. When that happens, it’s reason to celebrate.

Today was one of those days.

As a psychologist, I’ve studied and treated patients whose repressed past traumas and life experience will manifest itself in sometimes the ugliest of ways. Some in the form of addictions, negative behaviors, impulse control, and inability to manage simple daily life tasks.

Case in point, Zeke’s angry and uncontrolled outburst earlier and the anxiety levels that have affected his life and performance on the court.

The breakthrough session I had with Zeke was not only enlightening, but reminded me why I love my job as a therapist. Based on the triggers that set him off, we peeled back that layer and identified the basis, or at least one of the factors, that contributed to his outburst and maybe even his long-term anxiety.

I smile to myself as I open my apartment door, carrying a bag of groceries and my laptop bag into the kitchen. To celebrate, I bought my favorite wine, cheese and prosciutto for dinner, along with a decadent chocolate and caramel dessert from the deli. Celebrating a success like I had today is top of my list.

Not to mention getting back to the conversation thread on Heart and Soul. I hadn’t gotten a chance to check back in with Mountain Man. My tummy flutters with anticipation.

Stripping out of my work clothes, I pull on my silk robe and pad barefoot back into the kitchen to pour myself that well-deserved glass of wine. I grab a plate from the cupboard, a knife and cutting board, and all the snack items I purchased and head to the couch.

There, dinner is served.

The beauty of being single and childless most days is that I have no responsibility to anyone else but myself when it comes to things like dinner. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, and enjoy my solitude.

The downside to this attribute—the solitude.

I don’t often feel lonely because I have my sister and her family, my parents, and friends and colleagues. But I’m not overly close with anyone besides my immediate family. On a night like this, it might have been a lot more fun to call up a girlfriend and invite her to celebrate with me.

Instead, I’m here alone on my couch.

Taking a fortifying sip of my wine, I push away my self-pitying thoughts, willing myself not to wallow in misery when I know I live a very blessed life. I grew up in a good home with parents who fed my ambitions. I have a twin sister I adore and consider my best friend. A niece and two nephews I dote on. And I’ve accomplished all my goals when it comes to my educational and career pursuits.

It should be enough.

But I’m still human. Finding someone to spend my life with hasn’t been top priority, but I’m finally ready now. Even though, at thirty-four going on thirty-five, I swear I can feel my eggs begin to shrink and wither in a slow death. How depressing.

I need to refocus my thoughts on something positive. Like the unread messages waiting for me from Mountain Man. Nibbling on some Gouda cheese, I tap in my passcode to the app and peruse through the messages. The first one is in response to my embarrassing moment up on stage playing the violin.

Mountain Man: I can totally envision you up on stage playing the violin. Is that weird since I haven’t ever met you? But in my head, I do imagine what you look like, of course. I bet you were cute dressed up in your formal wear.

His message ends and there’s a gap of several hours until the timestamp of his next message comes in after four P.M. I look at the clock on my microwave and see it’s after seven now.

Mountain Man: Sorry, I had a very weird day today. Have you ever had one of those days where nothing seems to go right, but then you talk to someone, and it feels like they’ve grounded you and helped you turn the ship around?

That happened for me today. I don’t want to get into it, but it really shed some light on some things in my life. Anyway, I wanted to get back to learning more about you. What do you look like?

Kidding! I know I’m not supposed to ask that question. But you have to admit, there’s a lot of curiosity, right? I’m not alone in that, am I? I mean, I get the purpose of this and how it’s supposed to work. The objective is to see if we connect on an emotional level first. And that we aren’t hindered or swayed by the physical attraction based on profile pictures.

But… I have been thinking about what you look like. Are you tall? Curvy? Do you have a beautiful smile that lights up a room? I’ll admit I am very attracted to women who smile because it exudes confidence. It’s such a turn on.

And since I’m on that topic…turn-ons. I’m an ass man. Sorry, that might be too forward, but I’m being honest. I like a woman with a nice round, firm butt. And not the kind that are plumped up unnaturally.

Oh, shit. I hope I’m not overstepping and sharing my inner dialogue that shouldn’t be shared. I’m probably ruining my chances with you right now, aren’t I?

I really should stop typing now. (Zipping lips.) Mouth shut. Done. Your turn.

I laugh out loud as I finish reading his message, picturing Mountain Man making the gesture of zipping up his lips with his fingers, the tips brushing over the firm curves of his mouth, over the bristle of his beard.

There’s a sizzle of heat that runs down my spine, my belly fluttering with a whoosh of excitement as I, too, have envisioned what he might look like in my fantasies. An image of Zeke pops in my head unbidden. Handsomely groomed, his dark beard cropped short, running the length of his strong jaw. The expressively deep wells of his brown eyes, framed by his dark lashes, that twinkle when he smiles.

And that smile. Mountain Man is right about the influence a smile can have on a person’s attractiveness.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts of Zeke. I try my best to avoid any conflict by ignoring a patient’s attractiveness, but it’s hard not to find Zeke handsome. And charming. And downright hot.

But I shouldn’t think of him when I’m conversing with another man.

As for Mountain Man, it’s completely natural for both of us to fantasize about the other. We all carry around an image of the ideal man or woman in our minds and create them based on our physical and emotional needs. It’s an image of our perfect other half.

I finish off the remaining crackers and wipe my hands on a napkin before typing out my response.

The Other Sister: You made me laugh with that last bit and I appreciate that. I’ve had a long and strange day, too. Reading your note reminded me that if we can’t laugh at the end of the day, then it wasn’t a good day, after all.

And as for wanting to know what I look like, I think it’s completely natural for us to imagine what the other looks like. Right now, we are the perfect fantasy for each other.

You want to know how I imagine you?

His reply is immediate and gives me a jolt of excitement.

Mountain Man: Yes.

I wiggle back into the couch and grin a lame school-girl crush smile.

The Other Sister: Well, because I’m 5’6”, I imagine you would be taller than me. At least six feet or taller. Amended to say: that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t find you attractive if you’re not. I’m just talking my fantasy.

Because I’m not a waif-thin woman and I do like to eat, I guess you could say I have a full booty, which hopefully scores me points based on what you said earlier. When it comes to physicality, I want someone who isn’t afraid to grab my ass, pick me up, and use his strength to show his affection. No need to treat me like a fine piece of breakable china. I am a very physical woman when it comes to sex.

I swallow in surprise as I realize what I just typed out. I consider deleting it, but hit send anyway. The wine I’ve had has loosened my inhibitions more than usual. And I want to be open about my sexuality and needs upfront. I’m not going to second-guess myself. If I scare him off, so be it.

But it doesn’t seem I have.

Mountain Man: Oh, fuck. You went ahead and did it, didn’t you? My hands are twitching now with an uncontrollable need to feel your ass. Can you give some more definition? On a scale of celebrity butts, would you say your ass is a Jessica Biel, Jennifer Lopez, or the leading contender for booty prizes of the world, Kim Kardashian?

The Other Sister: Hmm…let me see…hold on…looking at my butt in the mirror…I’d have to say between Jessica and Jennifer. But all natural, of course.

Mountain Man: Dead. Call the medics. They’ll have to revive me.

The Other Sister: You crack me up. I like that about you.

Mountain Man: Woman, you do a helluva lot more than that to me. In fact, I need to go take a cold shower and handle some business.

The Other Sister: Really? Just from discussing my best asset? Did that turn you on?

Mountain Man: I’m a guy. So yeah, pretty much the images of your ass have got me hard. The next best thing to seeing it is talking about it.

The Other Sister: Do you need me to let you go then, so you can *ahem* take care of things?

I don’t know what’s happening to me right now, but I can’t believe I’ve allowed this conversation to take the course that it has. I’ve never been squeamish talking about sex because, let’s face it, it’s all about psychology. The physical need is only one component. The rest is emotional and mental.

But right now, with this man I barely know, my inhibitions have simply vanished. I’m freely asking dirty questions and sharing fantasies with him just as easily as if I was talking about the weather.

A few minutes pass and when his reply comes in, I know we’ve just moved to the next step in our online dating progress. We’ve officially moved into sexual flirtation.

And I like it.

Mountain Man:I’m not a dick pic kind of guy and am happy to report I’ve never sent one. Well, that’s not exactly true. I once sent a buddy of mine a picture of Dick Vitale as a joke. Probably doesn’t count, though, right? It was a Dick pic. Get it?

Anyway, if I was that type of guy and I did do that sort of thing, you’d get a good depiction of how hard you made me in your inbox.But I guess you’ll just have to imagine it for now. Goodnight. Sweet and dirty dreams.

Oh. My. God. I won’t sleep a wink tonight.