Your Friend, Alex

Your Friend, Alex: Part 1

March 5th, 2025. Who the fuck is that? This is my only thought as I watch the black SUV pull down Julia's driveway, my palms sweating and heart racing. Leaving my girlfriend's house is always hard. Don't get me wrong, we make the long distance work but leaving almost gives me withdrawals. The pattern usually goes like this: I arrive at Julia's house in a euphoric state, ready for 3 days of domestic bliss. 3 days where we cosplay as a, "normal", couple. We start the evening with a bottle of wine and a recap of what we've been up to since our last visit. Yes, we text and have regular phone calls but something about a face to face conversation makes me feel heard, seen, and truly cared for. That's why I usually save the details for our face to face chats. Often we have these talks over dinner, usually at Julia's favorite restaurant, Gourmet Gusto. It's a beautiful Italian restaurant on the other side of town, about 15 minutes from Julia's house. I always order the Linguini. She always says things like, "Alex, don't be so boring!", or, "Alex, just try the lasagna.", but this is a hill worth dying on. Over dinner we have our chat, and Julia always dresses up. This particular weekend, she wore a beautiful red dress that just about made it impossible for me to take my eyes off of her. After a drive home to some classic rock on the radio, a taste we both share, it's time for movie night. I love a good comedy myself, often picking things like The Hangover or This Is The End when it's my turn to pick. Julia on the other hand loves horror movies. It's a bit odd too. When you look at Julia, you'd expect choices like Pretty in Pink or The Breakfast Club to be her main movie choices. She always dresses very girly, and proper manners are very important to her. But on movie night, she always picks disturbing movies like The Excorcist or The House That Jack Built. This past weekend was my pick so we watched the Truman Show. I really do love Jim Carey. After movie night, we usually retire to bed, her taking her bedroom, and I the couch. Like I said, Julia is very proper. She wants to save herself for marriage, and as much as it pains me, I respect her decision. Although sometimes it feels like she just enjoys getting me hot and bothered, then leaving me to squirm. Then day 2 hits. I'm ecstatic, over the moon even. another full 24 hours with the love of my life. Julia cooks breakfast while I make our morning coffees. Julia always takes 3 creams and two sugars, while I opt for a straight up black coffee. It's the only thing that really jolts my system into waking up for the day, though I have to be careful as too much caffeine usually results in a panic attack that debilitates me for the entire day. Then, the day's scheduled activities. Julia is classy. Much classier than I. I would be satisfied frequenting arcades, sporting events, or concerts, but Julia finds book stores and art galleries more her speed. I don't mind. In fact, one of the reasons I fell in love with her is because she really opens my mind and expands my cultural palette. I feel smarter for knowing her. It always seems that Julia knows something I don't, and that's one of the things I appreciate most about her. After our activity, we find comfort in cuddling up on the couch and watching whatever TV show we are currently in the midst of. Right now we're watching Mindhunter, a show about serial killers. Often I find the subject matter a bit morbid but highly fascinating. Julia absolutely adores true crime and is enthralled with it. Finally, I woke up on day 3 in a state of panic. I just got back to her and now she's being ripped away from me again? I usually stay until lunch time before I make the inevitable 2 hour drive back to New York. If only I didn't have to work. Sure, I like my job, but I love Julia, and being separated from her almost feels like I'm losing my right arm. And now we hit the depression stage. A stage where I will remain until our next meet up date is set, and I again have something to look forward to. I go to work, go home, text Julia, and bedrot with a comedy playing in the dark of my bedroom. I watch all the funniest movies I can find, but it seems I can never laugh, as the only thing that brings me any joy anymore is the comfort of Julia's presence. A year may not be long, but I feel as though I've known Julia my entire life. However, this time, leaving is different. This sigh as I turn the key in my ignition isn't a sigh of sadness and resignation, but a sigh of relief. After 1 year together, Julia finally asked me to move in with her. No more are the days of long drives back and forth, only to be ripped away from one another. Now she will only be a second away. A moment away. A breath away. I look down at my "J" wrist tattoo. A symbol of my dedication to her. I smile. She had surprised me with an, "A", tattoo for Alex about a week earlier and I was so touched that I had to get my own for her. Apart from the, "A" Julia has no other tattoos. She says she doesn't believe in them and couldn't possibly think of any picture or design that she would have inscribed on her body forever. I guess you could imagine my shock and emotion when I saw her tattoo for the first time. I was honored. Who knew a person could be loved so much? I certainly didn't. My mother says this was all a rush but when you know, you know right? They haven't met yet but I know that my mother would absolutely fall in love with her. She was proper, career driven, polite, and knew a thing or two about cooking. My mother also said I always lacked culture so I know she would appreciate her artistic side as well. I plan on introducing them after I move in. I want to show Mom that this is real and I'm serious about this woman. I back out of Julia's long driveway, through the trees surrounding her property and start down the road. It's about a two hour drive and I'm making great time leaving as early as I have. This way I'll be able to arrive home, have dinner, prepare my lesson plans for the week, and still have time to catch up on an episode of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, my favorite show. As a film professor at NYU, I need to consume as much film and TV as I can, the best and my favorite part of my job. Long ago I dreamed of being a writer or a director, and I even made a short film back in college. However, agents are hard to find, expensive to pay, and I find much more enjoyment in deriving meaning out of film than in creating my own. I often teach about many films and genres that aren't my cup of tea, but when you love cinema, you have to make sacrifices. This week's lesson plan is all about Wes Anderson as I've assigned the students my favorite movie of his to analyze, The Grand Budapest Hotel. Something about the drama juxtaposed with the odd comedy that Anderson brings to the film makes it an all time favorite of mine, even though I don't much care for the genre. I haven't completed this week's homework worksheet, and I'll be arriving home with just enough time to complete it before my show comes on. However as I check my rearview mirror, I see a black SUV pull into Julia's drive. This is odd. Julia doesn't live with her family or have any roommates. She cut off all of her highschool friends and last I checked her friend Sandra is on vacation at the moment. Punta Cana or Dominican Republic? I can't remember. Her circle is small and I would know if someone was meant to come over. Julia and I often discussed upcoming plans at our Friday night dinners so that we could plan when and when not to Facetime each other. I've met her friend Sandra and to my knowledge, this is the only person that Julia truly considers a friend. Growing up Julia was socially awkward, always accosted and bullied by the other kids, so friends from middle and highschool were almost non-existent, as she said that she would rather leave that part of her life behind her. As for college, Julia did much of her degree online, missing out on the campus experience except for one or two classes in which she met Sandra. I asked her if she ever got lonely, only speaking to me, Sandra, and her family, but she just replied, "You are all the only company I'll ever need Alex. A girl couldn't ask for much more." I trust her with everything I have but who could that be? If she had any other friends, especially male friends, I feel like I would know about it. We tell each other everything. I've been cheated on before, and I'll be damned if I waste my time, but Julia isn't like that. She's not secretive, she isn't vindictive, and she's always honest. At least I think she is, right? I stop the car. I have a really bad feeling about this. I know I have no reason to worry, but something just isn't sitting right. It's almost as if the energy in the air has changed, I suddenly feel uneasy, sweaty, and sick. I reach into my glove box for an Ativan. As I swallow it I try to relax. My therapist told me that in these moments of panic I really should try my mindfulness exercises. I always feel really stupid doing them, even when alone, but I guess I'll make an exception. Okay. Breathe in for 3 seconds, breathe out for 5. In for 3, out for 5. I repeat my mantra in my head. "You are enough, you are loved." Sounds sad I know, but I've been struggling with self worth for most of my life. My father left our family when I was 4, and my mother never really had the time for me. Most of her attention went to the revolving door of potential suitors that constantly spent nights at our house as I was growing up. I desperately looked for a father in these men, a male role model to design my life after, but sadly, none were around long enough to impart any kind of knowledge on me. In a way, movies really raised me. I loved that no matter what issue was being faced, everything was wrapped up and resolved in an hour and thirty minutes. My therapist told me that that's not how real life works but I still hold out hope. These exercises aren't working. I still want to find out who that man is. Is he better looking than me? Funnier? Are they having sex? She's never even tried to have sex with me? Am I ugly? I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cigarettes. Leaf Lines. My go-to brand. I know that smoking actually induces anxiety but for some reason I feel calmer when smoking. Julia doesn't know I smoke yet but I have to keep something secret right? I don't want to spoil her image of me. Whatever the case I light up and debate my next move. I really shouldn't do this. This is insecure. My therapist and I have talked about this. God me and Julia have talked about this. We've built this unspoken bond for a year, one that feels unbreakable, one that feels solid in honesty, compassion, and love. I can't even imagine Julia stooping so low as to cheat on me, the man who hopefully she one day decides to marry. I'm being ridiculous. I need to keep driving. I need to take my exit, get on the highway, and drive back to my apartment. Don't even bring it up. Put absolute trust into her. I've worked so hard on myself and my anxiety. I can't let myself slip back into old habits. This is going to come off as jealous and creepy. I can't possibly go back. I toss the cigarette out the window, exhaling my last puff of thick, white smoke and pull the keys from the ignition.. Fuck that. I have the right to know. Who the fuck is that?