The 24 Hour Relationship

The first guy I “dated” was nicknamed Opus. He was the best friend of one of my closest friends, Joe, from high school. I called Opus one day for some advice about Joe, whose father was going to jail. Over the course of a week, we began talking every day. “Talking to you is addictive,” he said to me. I was aware that Opus was a diagnosed bi-polar on meds because Joe told me so, but I didn’t see any fluctuation in his behavior. He was always in a good mood when we chatted, and we spoke everyday with regularity. No withdrawing suddenly for days. No rages.No incoherent talking jags. After a few weeks, he asked me to go with him to Boston to see They Might Be Giants. We had a wonderful day-the concert, shopping, chatting. On the bus ride back, he kissed me. “I didn’t realize how much I wanted you until this moment,” he said after we kissed. He walked me to my car and kissed me again. “ I don’t want this night to end,” he told me. I felt the same way. I was ecstatic. I hadn’t had a date all through high school. Boys had crushes on me, but they would never do anything about it because I was “intimidating.” Because, you know, I actually had a brain and used it. So by my senior year, I had barely been kissed once. The next day at eleven or so, my phone rang. It was Opus. His tone was distant. “I can’t do this” he said. “Do what?” “I can’t handle a relationship right now.” “What are you talking about? We haven’t even been on a date.” “It’s all too much. I can’t take the pressure.” “What pressure? I don’t know what you are talking about.” After twenty minutes of trying to explain to him there was no pressure, we could just hang out and have fun like we had the day before, I finally gave up and said good-bye.

A month later, he was committed.