The Smoking Gun

I actually don't mind Scott smoking as much as I thought I would. His fingers stink and his mouth always has the faint taste of tobacco, but when he smokes we go outside on my balcony and talk--really talk--without the distractions of TV or music.

I stuck my foot between the rails and looked down, "What are we?" I was comfortable asking him this, perhaps because I already knew where he stood.

He took a drag of his cigarette, "Well I've always been in relationships ever since I was young--"

I cringed. This was not the response I wanted to hear. I am the available girl when he wants a girlfriend. I am not special.

"My family actually suggested to me that I needed to take a year off of relationships," he continued, "And I decided to do it. At first I was really lonely, but then I began to enjoy not having to always worry about someone else. I actually didn't go out much at all. I was working at the restaurants and I was too tired to do anything. I learned so much about myself, Sarah. I really got to know me. And I think I'm ready to get back in that stuff."

I felt a little sorry for Scott. He only just got to know himself. This was my second time living alone, and that's when I learned my strengths and weaknesses. Being the exact opposite of Scott in that I rarely have relationships, I had plenty of time to learn me. I was comfortable with myself by the time I was 25, not 30 like Scott.

"And how long have you been single?" I wanted to know if he followed through on the year-long pledge or not.

"14 months."

I smiled. A year and then some. It wasn't as dire as I originally thought. He sounded perfectly primed for a relationship. He's had his act together for two years and has been single for a year. He says he knows who he is and is comfortable with himself. He has a firm foundation for the way he's going to live the rest of his life and I know I won't have to worry about him slipping into his old habits.

"I've been single for close to two years," I admitted. "But then again I'll date someone for months and not be committed."

"Not me," he thoughtfully took another drag of his cigarette, "If you want to do this, Sarah, and be together, I'm willing. It's up to you. You tell me."

And in that moment I hated Scott. I hated him for making the decision mine because I knew I would never ask for it. I couldn't. I am too scared of what a relationship brings to have it be my idea. My fault. I wanted him to say, "This is what I want" to absolve me of all responsibility. No, this couldn't be my idea.

"So what are the ground rules, Sarah?" he prodded.

My heart thumped and I didn't like myself very much at the moment either because I knew I was about to give the wrong answer.

"How about you tell me when you start sleeping with someone else."