[Trigger warning - symptoms of OCD described]
(Present time)
Two weeks passed since my conversation with Lea. She asked me dozens of questions. We talked for three full hours, her enthusiasm never weakening and her friendly, nice attitude never changing, somehow making me share even the tiniest details about me and what I wanted. I was waiting impatiently for her to call me again and hoping that she would never do it at the same time.
I am too much to handle. There is no way she didn't realize it. Maybe, she overrated her matchmaker's abilities and underrated my condition. Who the hell would pay a small fortune to have sex with a thirty years old virgin? Is there a person, crazy enough to be willing to spend time with a man, full of mental health issues, who will probably run away the second someone tries to touch him?
Lea was convinced that I and my partner should wear masks at our first get-together, mainly because the anonymity would help me relax. She said that it was good to differentiate from your usual self sometimes, to be someone else for a while. I agreed, although, I wasn't sure it would make any difference.
As unbelievable as it is, she called this morning to let me know that a limo would pick me at eight p.m. and drive me to the place where I was supposed to meet him. I was terrified, mortified and even scolded her for giving me too little time to prepare. She only laughed and wished me good luck. I am sure she did it on purpose. If she had given me more time, I would have been overthinking for days and given up at the end.
Some kind of change draws my attention to the window again. The city lights are gone. The car has left the central area and is advancing into an industrial quarter with big factory buildings on both sides.
"Excuse me, Sir!" I hear the chauffeur's voice through the intercom. "We will arrive at our destination in ten minutes."
I nod, although, she can't see me. The tall, blond woman in a navy blue, single-coloured suit was totally professional when she picked me, opening and closing the door for me, no unnecessary conversations, no touching, as if she had read my requirements list.
The car slows down and takes a turn into a dark alley, winding through an enormous, deserted machinery yard towards a huge, silent manufacturing plant which has probably stopped functioning decades ago.
I am not worried by the questionable location, against all logic, but rather that my ninety-thousand-dollars William Westmancott suit is not perfect. The underside of my trousers is surely wrinkled. I spot a hair on my shoe. It almost throws me into a nervous fit. I grab a silk napkin from the bar and start polishing it frantically. There must be others, stuck somewhere else. Oh, my God! I need a full-length mirror and a lint roller. The suspicion is unbearable. I start hyperventilating. I might be murdered in this God forgotten place, but this won't send me off balance like the slightest imperfection in my appearance. This is how my crazy brain works.
My hands start shaking at the thought that my hair might not be perfectly smoothed. I am feverishly looking around for a surface that can serve as a mirror. The familiar pulsations in my temples precede the unstoppable flood of compulsive thoughts, threatening to invade my mind in seconds. I didn't take my pill. Did I take it before leaving the house? No! I can't remember. I can't. I can't. I watered Anthony. Then I switched off the lights. I recall activating the security system, but not the moment of taking the medicine. Maybe, I did it when I was in the bathroom. Did I? The panic is rising. I grab a bottle of water and start struggling with the cap. What if whoever placed it here, didn't wash their hands? I throw it back on the tray.
My phone rings a second before I press the intercom button to ask the chauffeur to take me back home.
"Sarah," I barely rasp. "I don't know if I..."
"You watered Anthony, Dave," she interrupts me. "Have you ever left the house without doing it?"
"Yes, I remember that," I confirm shakily, "but I am not sure..."
"David," she raises her voice. "Listen to me! You switched off the lights. The damn cactus is perfectly fine. You don't have a single hair on your body or on your clothes. Your hairstyle is flawless. You worked out precisely two hours. The security system is on... Oh, and you took your pill."
"I don't think I..."
"Hush!" She doesn't let me finish. "Count with me! One, inhale! Two, exhale! ... Dave, I can't hear you. Come on! ... Three, inhale! ..."
Having no other option, I start doing what she says. I am relatively calm on ten. The limousine pulls off in the middle of a brightly lit parking area.
"Are you alright?" Sarah asks insistently.
"Mhm," I mumble.
"Now get out of the car, meet that gorgeous man and don't even think of chickening out," she commands. "Say you will do it!"
"Sarah, what... what if he's hairy and didn't wash his hands properly, and wears some unbearable perfume or..."
"Stop it!" she puts an end to my chatter nonchalantly. "He will be perfect. Do you doubt Lea? Say another nonsense and I am calling her. I will quote what you said. I'm not joking. Now, say you will do it!"
I am squirming in my seat. She knows that this is another manifestation of my obsession. If I say I will do something, I never quit. I would rather die than give up. I just can't. My brain won't allow me. This is why I rarely give promises.
"Sarah, I..."
"David, say you will do it!" she repeats adamantly.
"Fine, I'll do it," I growl. "Bye!"
"Have fun! You'll thank me tomorrow," she giggles.
"I doubt it," I grumble, but she has already hung up.
Dearest God!
__________________________
A/N
Hello everyone at the end of chapter 3.
Thank you for the amazing support!
David is panicking.
Do you think Sarah was right to use his weakness and force him to promise he won't give up?
❤I would like to say also OCD is a very torturous condition and people having it greatly suffer, although, most of the times it is undetectable from outside. If any of my readers has this problem, I am giving you all of my support. I also assure you that it is controllable and can be overcome completely. Ask for professional help.❤
Share your thoughts, ask questions and criticize, if you feel like.
And don't forget to vote, if you liked the chapter.
Thank you! ❤❤❤
Love: Anny
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