The most awkward conversation

Jack's room was hot. We were sprawled perpendicular on his bed with our faces in front of his open window. Jack was naked and exposed, enjoying the fresh air, and I tucked the blankets around me; it was the perfect analogy for our personalities. Jack stared out the window while I watched him.

"You like to overlap girls."

"What?"

"You like to overlap girls. Always have another one lined up before you get rid of the last one."

"You have no basis for that. You may have a feeling, but you have no basis."

"Well there was the new girl to your ex-girlfriend that you just told me about, and then there's... You know what I'm going to say."

"What?"

"You know."

"What?"

"New Orleans."

"Oh." Jack paused, presumably searching for an answer, "I don't stop talking to other girls after one date with someone. I'll date around until I decide to concentrate on one girl." He laid his head sideways in his arms and looked at me, "Do you date only one person at a time?"

"Oh God no." My eyes widened at the fervor of my response, "I mean, I haven't, though, with you."

Jack corrected his chin in his arms and stared out the window again. "You don't have to say that to me. If you want to go out with someone, you will." He paused, "If you don't want to, you won't."

I hated his response; it seemed too nonchalant. Too apathetic. I made the fish face, opening my mouth to say something, then closing it again while debating if I really wanted to be that girl.

"I've bothered you."

"No." Open mouth. Closed mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing." Open mouth. Closed mouth.

"Tell me."

"It's just." Open mouth. Closed mouth. "Are you concentrating?"

Jack chuckled, probably at our ability to have this conversation without the real words. Relationship. Commitment. Doom. He stopped staring out the window to look at me again, "Do you want me to?"

I nodded, wide-eyed. He has a way of always getting my feelings before announcing his own.

"I believe we are single until we talk about it otherwise."

"I completely agree."

Jack paused again, "I haven't been seeing anyone else. I'm pretty happy here."

"Good answer," and I kissed his forehead.

"Is it?" he genuinely asked.

I rolled from my side facing him to my back. "I wish I was wearing a clown nose."

"I have no idea what that means."

"To lighten the mood."

"Oh. It's not needed." Pause. "I get pretty slow moving from this point forward."

"What point?"

"Whatever point we're at. I dunno."

"I'm so confused."

"I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Are we," long, drawn-out pause, "dating?"

He chuckled, "I thought that was obvious."

"Can you just explain it to me like a two-year-old? I'm not pushing, I'm just trying to clarify."

"I don't want things to get too much more serious."

I. Fucking. Hate. Men.

"We have to have some pretty serious talks before anything else can happen," he continued.

It was too late. I already heard it: I don't want to get serious. I know how hard this has been for you with the panic attacks and the crying the first time we had sex (I failed to mention that, but yes, I got overwhelmed and cried while he was inside of me. Nicely done.) I know how vulnerable you are, but I just want to have a good time, which probably makes you feel like a cheap conquest.

"There's so much about you that I don't know," said Jack.

The second part of his answer clicked in my mind: serious talks. I have so much fun with Jack. We laugh and kiss and play video games. We tease and hold hands and drink gin and tonics. He says things like, "I'm making room in my life for you." But these serious talks, like what is my attitude towards marriage, are absolutely painful for me. My beliefs are rather personal and I have a hard time expelling them to others; I'm a fairly secretive person. But I also understand that in order to have a meaningful relationship, one has to talk about these things. And now he's conveying that it's my beliefs that will make or break us. It's too much pressure on something I already don't feel comfortable with. Perhaps I should at least give him the credit of taking things seriously.

"There isn't a label for us that I like right now." he finished. When I didn't respond because my head was filled with the above, he said, "You're upset with me."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you're upset with me."

"Really, I'm not. I wanted an answer and I got one."

"You know, if you want something, you can just ask."

"I wish I was wearing a clown nose."

"Yeah."