Run, Don’t Walk by Adele Levine

Author:Adele Levine
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2014-04-09T12:00:00+00:00

Girlfriend Land

On reality TV, when things get bad, instead of venting privately, characters are invited to air their “private” thoughts to an offstage video camera. Which must be why when things got really crazy in the clinic, Emma would pull me off to the side and say dramatically, “I need to do an on-camera monologue!”

My favorite show is a spoof on reality shows, a cop show called Reno 911! This show, under the pretense of being a reality show, made fun of police shows, race, disability, and sexual orientation. It reminded me of our clinic, where, in order to handle the chaos and stress, we turned everything into an exaggerated joke.

In my new borderline condominium, Comedy Central played endless loops of Reno 911! right around the time I got home from work. I would carry my bicycle up the steps to my second-floor walk-up. The only furniture I had owned during the flood had been an aluminum-frame futon couch and a floor lamp. Damage to me had been minimal. But my friends were always after me to buy furniture. I was sleeping on an air mattress, which I had bought for twenty dollars, and that I liked because it was portable, and now, because of its ability to float.

My air mattress was a real date buzz kill.

If I was in a serious relationship, I told myself, I’d buy a bed.

But if it didn’t work out, then I would have that constant reminder every time I climbed into my new bed.

Which was why I had decided it was just safer to stay with the air mattress.

I’d lean my bicycle against the wall of my sparse living room and walk immediately into the bathroom, where I’d aggressively scrub the imaginary smell of the hospital off my hands and arms with a big block of scented soap. I’d change clothes, wash my hands again, and then take the dog outside for a walk. After the walk I was back in my condo. I’d head straight for the fridge, grab a beer, drop down on my futon couch that still smelled slightly of mildew, and laugh my way through the first rerun of Reno 911!

My friend Vern had once compared my dating style to that of a spider: “You leave your apartment every six months and drag some alcohol-poisoned victim back.” I had bristled immediately at this harsh comparison, because I didn’t do one-night stands. But most of what Vern said was true, I had a long history of short, casual relationships. I blamed it on my job schedule. “No one wants to get serious with someone who gets up at five.”

While blaming Walter Reed for my lack of intimacy was convenient, the truth was that I hadn’t been in a serious relationship in about twelve years. In spite of getting burned over and over again, I couldn’t help myself from constantly going after my top hit: the Cold and Unavailable. But now, thanks to my work schedule, I wasn’t even meeting the Cold and Unavailable.

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