“So how are things with Byron?” mom asks, her eyes lighting up. How ironic that as soon as I lose him, she actually starts to like him.

The truth is I’ve been crying all week. I didn’t expect it to hurt this much. I always knew, at the back of my mind that Byron would probably get bored of me. I braced myself for it. I knew it was coming. But it still hit me like a ton of bricks when he sent that letter.

Why would he want me, anyway? I’m old. I’m nothing special. He’s on top of the world and I’m halfway buried in the ground.

I can’t even tell my mother the news or else I’ll start crying again.

“It’s uh…good. I guess we’re slowing things down a little, to be honest.”

“Why? You seemed so happy!” mom says, a bit worried.

“No, no, nothing bad,” I lie poorly. “We just want to take things slow and not jump into a relationship too soon.”

“Well, that makes sense. I would hate for you two to burn out before you even get started. You seem like such a cute couple. I really love how close he is to his family.”

“Yeah…he is.” I’m sure they’re silently relieved. I never really did feel welcomed into their house or their lifestyle.

“And of course, the sex is good!” mother says. “You know how difficult it is to find a lover, a friend, and a soul mate these days? I’m just saying don’t throw it away!”

“Eeew mother! You are so weird.”

I miss him. I think maybe I was too hard on him, too cold. Maybe he got tired of me playing games with him. I didn’t think I was playing, but I just didn’t think I could handle it. And I guess this proves that I can’t. God, what’s wrong with me! I can’t even think about my fuck buddy leaving without tearing up.

He wanted honesty and I gave him honesty. Did he want me to lie? To pretend to be the perfect girlfriend and just let him spoil me, pamper me and tell him I love him like some stupid teenager?

I was right. I’m just too jaded to be in any relationship. Especially with a younger guy. Maybe everyone is right about that. They’re too volatile when they’re young. They don’t know what they want. And that’s bad chemistry when you’re thirty-five and you NEED to feel loved. You need to feel wanted.

Oh God! He did make me feel wanted.

But he never made me feel loved. All I wanted was for him to just lose it, just for a second, and tell me that he loved me. By accident, just blurt it out. Let me know, I’m not crazy. Or even if he said he COULD love me, or he really liked me, something! Feel something, anything for me! Anything besides just sex. I don’t need sex. I need love. I want to love. You promised too much in the way you looked at me, shared with me. Made me feel like a part of your life.

I guess it’s just better that we end things now. Before I let you gouge my heart any deeper.

“Awww, my poor girl,” mom says studying my face. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

I blink the tears away. “I’m just keeping my options open, that’s all. I can’t afford to make a mistake. Not anymore.”

I’ve been self-analyzing lately, trying to put my years of field-training to good use. Trying to fix my own goddamn personal life. I always knew going into that relationship would be sexual, and confusing, and of little or no real value.

But why then, did I get the impression that Byron was falling for me? Is he that good of a charming narcissist? So much so that he has to believe he loves me, just for his own ego?

It’s possible. But it didn’t feel that way at the time. Then again, narcissists usually don’t understand what they are. They just know what they feel.

Maybe it only feels REAL to him if he’s hurting me or if he’s seducing me in some way. I don’t know. But I’ve wasted too many tears, too much time, worrying about HIM. What about me? What about meeting someone who actually respects me?

I find myself asking too many “What if?” questions on my second date with Bill, whom I’ve always respected. And frankly, I never gave the poor guy a fighting chance. I was so caught up in my passion with Byron, I never really stopped to listen to Bill. A man who knows what relationships feel like. A man who loved and lost, not just a man who speaks of love so freely.

“Is everything all right?” Bill asks me. “You’ve hardly touched your soup.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just distracted tonight. I’m sorry!”

“No problem.”

“I’ve been a mess lately, Bill.”

“Well, you certainly look beautiful despite being a mess.”

“Thank you. I’ve made a lot of mistakes…”

“With Byron?”

“Yeah. I’m starting to realize those mistakes.”

Bill takes a sip of the wine and nods calmly. His equanimity is quite charming. I start to wonder if I could love Bill. Maybe I could love anybody. Maybe I was shut down for so many years and Byron merely awoke the passion inside me. The passion that I could give to anyone if they just let me love them. If I just opened myself up to someone who understood the risks and precautions.

“Wasn’t it, Anais Nin who said, ‘Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age?’”

“I guess. Never read much by her.”

“I don’t hold it against you that you have a thing for Byron,” he says with a charming smile. “He’s a young man. Attractive. Wealthy. Exciting.”

I laugh softly. “Sounds like you like him too.”

“I’m merely pontificating that it is human to desire youth. Like the quote says, we stay young by dating young.”

“Oh really? You sound like you speak from experience.”

“Perhaps. You know when I worked in Paris briefly, I met a young girl there. Legal age of course, but she was very young and naïve. I tried everything I could to bore her. To show her that I was just this crotchety forty-year-old fool and that she ought to be fooling around with young cubs.”

“And?” I ask with a smile.

“Well,” he laughed. “She was very intent on dating me. She was very much in love with my mind, with my experience and my appreciation of the arts. She loved to hear me talk. And I was…well, certainly not made of stone.”

“Did you ‘date her back’?” I ask with a grin as he laughs at the memory.

“I did. And it was magnificent. I knew, of course, that the relationship would be short-lived. It would always be centered on her and her needs. If she outgrew me, which of course she did, the only logical thing to do would be to let her go. And to be thankful that she chose me for an experience.”

“Yeah. I guess that sounds like me, where I’m at.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, dear,” he says, touching my hand. “Like I said, it is human nature to believe we are still young. To desire youth. And I say, if youth comes chasing you, don’t throw it away. As long as the relationship is ethical, you’ve done nothing wrong. Except open your heart to a new experience.”

“I can see why your ‘French student’ was so smitten with you, Bill,” I say with a smile. “You are very articulate.”

“Well thank you!” he says in a peppy voice. “And you may think I’m quite mad for suggesting this, especially since Byron is my competition, but have you really tried talking to him about what’s bothering him?”

“Why would I? He doesn’t want me. The conversation is over.”

“Is that what he said?”

“No. He rambled on about being a narcissist, about not being capable of love. I don’t know. Seems like he had a mental breakdown or something.”

“Well, that is concerning. But I feel obliged to tell you this, if he is, in fact, having a ‘mental moment’, then nothing he says is rational. It’s hard to take a young man seriously if he’s not speaking in his right mind.”

“You think he was just venting? And wanted me to talk to him?”

“It’s very probable he needed time alone. But just because that’s how things ended, doesn’t mean that’s how he wanted them to end.”

“Bill!” I said, laughing at the thought. “You are too good to me. Why aren’t you calling him a loser and saying he should be grateful just to be with me?”

“I have no reason to manipulate a response out of you, dear. If your attraction is truly for Byron, what do I have to gain by persuading you otherwise? I think it’s silly that you’re a grown woman and yet you can’t just sit down and talk to him like two lovers should do.”

“You’re right. I do owe him at least one more conversation. He did do a lot of things right.”

“I’m sure he did!” Bill laughs. “Plenty of times too!”

“You’re so bad!” I tease Bill, slapping him on his hand. I almost feel like rebounding with Bill, giving him a pity-fuck for his time. I could easily fall for someone like Bill, even though he lacks the animal magnetism that Byron has. He’s smart and stable. Mature in his way of thinking. That’s what I should be looking for.

But I can’t do it. I’ve learned by now that sex is a loaded weapon. I can’t just fuck and run. I can’t forget the experience, it stays with me. It becomes a part of me. And my heart lies with Byron. At least, for the moment.

“Well, frankly,” Bill adds. “I think it’s strange that Byron said his therapist told him he had NPD. That’s not something a therapist would diagnose so early on, especially for the first session. Who recommended this therapist?”

“I don’t know. Someone he trusted.”

“Hmm,” Bill said with a suspicious nod. “Perhaps a friend or the family recommended?”

“Well, I assume.”

“And do you think his family would have any special reason to disqualify you as a prospect for their son?”

“I don’t know,” I say, holding my hand over my mouth. “You think they hated me that much? I thought they were very friendly.”

“Who was it that said, ‘Be kind to your friends, but kinder to your enemies?’”

“Would his father really pay-off a therapist just to badmouth me and brainwash him like that? Do you think…Byron was really in love with me?”

“I have no idea. What I will tell you though, is that I’ve read so many strange things about Alfred Gallows. Some good, but plenty bad, plenty of it is dark and disturbing. How he’s a misogynist. A corrupt man who bribes his way through life. He disposes of his enemies. He has a Machiavellian way of dealing with people, using them for whatever worth he can get out of them. Of course, no one can prove that’s what he is. But I do believe the more ‘lies’ that we hear about a person, the more likely there is at least a grain of truth to consider.”

“I probably would be the last person they would want Byron to marry. I’m not rich, not young, not famous. They probably would be horrified to learn we were getting married.”

“From what I’ve read though, and I admit from only a few dubious sources, is that Alfred is actually a Satanist and part of some billionaire-elite club. Now I don’t know if that’s true. I can’t prove it. But let’s just assume, for a minute, that Alfred is a terrible human being and a manipulative narcissistic personality. What do you think he would say to Byron about you?”

“He would hate me, wouldn’t he?”

“He fears intelligence in a woman. That’s my guess.”

“Thank you, Bill. You’ve been so kind hearing me out.”

“Sometimes friendship is more important than getting one’s kicks. Maybe that’s something we should all hear every so often.”

Bill’s words ring true in my mind. How often do we neglect friendship in pursuit of selfish passion? Maybe I’m the one seeing this relationship with just a two-dimensional view. Maybe I need to put love and sex second and put Byron and my friendship first, for a change.