Fix: A Two-Part Story

Fall, age 19

A whole year.

An entire year of falling into each other.

Utter perfection that makes everything feel unreal. The uncertainty that kept me restrained for so long before disappeared.

It's an all-consuming enamoring obsession that makes me use word like fucking enamoring.

Josephine's got me hooked plain and simple. I can't keep myself away. I crave her physical touch. It's not even about the sex. It's the contact; it almost seems necessary for me to get through the day. Keeping my hands off of her is a challenge. If she's within reach, I am touching her. Pulling her close in the middle of the night. Holding her on the couch as we watch movies. Holding hands in public. Stealing her away to tangle together in a dark corner. PDA is constant and borderline cringe but I'm not the only one initiating it. She does it just as much as I do, constantly reminding me that I am wanted and needed. It's all brought the intimacy between us to another level.

Yet, while caught up in the falling something was pushed to the back burner.

Now, I'm not complaining. Mostly because there aren't any problems worth complaining about. And complaining about a lack of problems is a bigger fucking problem.

No.

This is just something that's been brought to my attention. Something that we sped by without notice. Of course, it was brought up by none other than Gerry. For all the simple questions he asks with no intent of harm he ends up causing a lot of fucking harm. The mind fuckery that his questions cause and the havoc it wreaks on my subconscious is unparalleled.

"So, like what are you two doing, exactly?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, 'what do I mean'? I mean, what exactly are you two doing?"

"Same question, different word order."

"Fine. I'll say it plainly."

"Please, do."

"Are you two just fucking or what?"

That.

That kind of fucking question.

What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?

Like I GET that his question likely came from a place of concern. Not just for Josephine but for me, too. But. For. Fuck's. Sake.

Now, I'm aware of it and constantly questioning the stupidest shit and asking myself questions that never crossed my mind before. Especially because thinking back, there hasn't been a peep, insinuation or mention of what it all meant or what it was leading to.

Does she see me as her boyfriend? Is she telling other people that she has a boyfriend? Are other guys approaching her at school? Should I be worried about that? Does that make me possessive? Is she, my girlfriend? Aren't we doing all of the things that fall into the relationship category already? Is this going to last? Does she want to get married? Do I want to get married? Like what about kids? How do I feel about kids? What if this all just stops? What if we don't want the same things? What happens then? Do I leave because she has been around longer and I'm the outsider? Will we still talk?

Boiling down what we have to 'fucking' doesn't sit right. Friends with benefits seems like an insult. Dating and being in a relationship felt trite and stale yet it best described it.

All the questions made my gut hurt in ways that it hadn't since my father died. The uncertainty that there might be an expiration date for the two of us was strong. I don't want that.