my childhood. I’ve always been bubbly and gotten along well enough with others, but I’ve never had my own tribe. I’m what you call a floater. A drifter in life and friendships. I’ve never found that stable friendship or relationship.
I’ve always felt like there were certain expectations of me, even when I was a child. My parents, being the way they are, didn’t help any in that area. My entire life I’ve been searching for that place, that group, that person I can fit in with. That I can fall into and be myself with. I think we’re all just searching for someone to accept us the way we are, love us the way we are.
Being in a relationship makes me feel less lonely, even if it isn’t necessarily a happy one. At first, it’s always unicorns and rainbows, all happiness and hot sex, but that always seems to change at some point.
I know for sure I’m not in any kind of head space to date anyone, but it is becoming painfully obvious, I may need to find a man I can let off steam with. Anything to help me stop thinking about my neighbor.
Since the incident, I’ve been having a hard time looking Roman in the eye. I’ve avoided him altogether, practically running out the front door and to my car, with my gaze glued to the ground. In my haste, I’m not even worried about another potential prank. I just want to be as far away from him as I can get.
Now, more than ever, I feel like I need to get him back. I need all that stuff to come in the mail, so I can prank him—push him away. I need to make him angry. I need to feel angry with him. Because right now? I’m not feeling that way. I’m feeling something else entirely for my neighbor, and I’m not having it. Whatever it is, it can’t happen. I won’t let it.
I spend the whole day at work, replaying the way his body moved, the muscles jumping and cording, and the expression on his face. I hate myself and the fact that I’m still feeling the effects of what I saw a day later.
I’m a disgusting, horrible, horrible human.
I need help. Serious psychiatric help. I should probably be talking to a professional about this, but there’s no way I’m going to talk to my father.
As if sensing I’m thinking about him, my phone vibrates from the passenger seat, and my dad’s face flashes across the screen. I connect the call with Bluetooth, so I can talk and drive.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Just getting off work?” he asks, in a gentle probe. Even retired, my dad still has a habit of speaking like a therapist.
“Yeah, I had an early shift this morning. What are you up to? Looking to do some psychoanalyzing?”
He chuckles. “No, not at all. We just wanted to check in on you, see how you’re doing. You know how your mother worries.”
I smirk. “Oh, so it’s just my mother who worries now, is it?”
“Okay, fine. Me too.”
That draws a laugh out of me. “I’m fine, Dad. I promise. The second I feel like something isn’t right, I’ll give you guys a call.”
“That’s all we can ask for, Oliv—” He’s cut off by voices in the background, and the harder I strain to listen, I realize it’s my mother. “I gotta go, babe. Your mother wants to talk to you and your brother can’t seem to keep his hands off my car keys. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Dad. I’ll—”
Before I can even finish, I imagine my mom takes the phone from my dad. Her jubilant voice erupts down the line. “Olivia, sweetie, how are you?”
“Doing fine, Mom. Just like I told Dad.”
“Make any new friends yet? What about potential boyfriends?”
A scowl settles on my face. “No friends and definitely no boyfriends.”
She tsks. “Well, are you at least remaining active? Have you tried Tinder?”
“Mom!” I yell. “Please don’t ask me questions like this, while you’re in the same room as Dad, it’s just weird. And how do you even know what Tinder is?”
I can practically envision her eye roll. “Oh, stop. He’s not even here. And you never answered my question.”
My lips thin. “You never answered mine either.”
“Everyone knows about Tinder, Olivia. I’m a sex therapist, not a born-again virgin. Now, tell me, are you taking care of yourself sexually? Remember, if you’re feeling stressed or overwhelmed, just head to your room, dim the lights, and get intimate