February 1999
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Angry Dan's Column

Alone With You

by Daniel Strohl

He sat on the edge of the bed, next to her feet, eyeing the floor as if it had something to say. If it had, he would've let it.

"The antihero in Notes From Underground said people like me--people like us, I guess, cant love. I didn't believe him the last six months. Now I do."

She gathered the covers around her and sat up in bed.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and head beneath his shoulders. The aftercum gently oozed from his limp penis.

He turned his head.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked.

She nodded and relaxed her grip on the covers.

I've always believed partly in Descartes' Method of Doubt. What you can't doubt, you can then believe in. But believe you me, it doesn't make one happy doubting everything. Doubting government, doubting the intentions of random people, that's easy. But then ya turn it inward.

When you meet people you tend to think of them in sexual terms. Or am I just overgeneralizing my experiences? Anyway, most of the time when you meet someone, you judge them: hot, sexy, dogfaced, homely, single, taken, too young, too old, whatever. We aren't that far from animals in that respect.

I thought when I met you it was different. We started off as friends, but now that I look back, I'm always remembering thinking how long before we'd be in bed. And when I look over the highlights of our relationship, they tend to be in bed. And you know, I hate admitting to those things because it makes me seem like some sex-crazed fratboy who doesn't respect you and that's not the case at all.

And then I started to fall in love with you, which was fine before I started to doubt that as just being a rationalization for sleeping with you. So now I know why they call it "true" love, because the opposite is false love.

And throughout all of this, there's still school eating up a lot of my time, work eating up a lot of your time and the fact that we don't get to see each other all that often anymore.

So I'm left wondering if I'm holding on to our relationship just because I have something to hold on to, because it beats being single, or if there's still that spark of illogical love I was doubting before.

He sighed.

"It's just plain hell doubting the fact that I love you."

She said nothing, rather watched him find his boxers and put them on, then lay beside her.

"I'm sorry for going off half-cocked like that," he said. "No pun intended."

He rolled over on his stomach, far away from her on the other side of the bed, and she smiled.

"You don't have to let me sleep here tonight," he said to the pillow.

But she did.

Places to go, things to see:
Dan's new, and nearly as cool, Ezine
Something Else

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