You are currently reading from the Trials and Tribulations of a Crazy Asian Series.
It’s amazing how one little sentence like, “Idon’t know. But I know there’s no one else I’d rather be messed up with…than you.” that doesn’t really answer or address the question (where is this pseudo-relationship going?) or issue (what are we actually doing here?) can suddenly make you forget that those answers and questions were once vital to your existence.
Rich and I went back upstairs, had amazing sex and I woke up the next morning to pancakes and Tropicana orange juice on the kitchen table. I’m more of a waffle person – but like Rich’s statement the night previous, I figured, “Good enough.”
The problem with that is – good enough eventually catches up with you.
You see, snooping is only frowned upon when the person whose stuff you’re snooping through has something to hide – like a one-way plane ticket to Australia in the bottom of the boxer drawer that is marked for two weeks from the day you found it.
I laid on the bed, ticket in hand, and waited for Rich to come home from work. The minute he walked through the door, I threw it in his face and said, “What the fuck is this?!”
We had the standard breach of privacy, trust issues, emotional baggage, how dare you go through my stuff conversation before we got down to it.
“When were you going to fucking tell me about this, Rich?” I asked. “How long are you going for? How long have you known?”
And it was in that moment, when he looked out towards the window and back at the floor that I knew – he hadn’t even considered me as a factor in the decision making process. Whether or not I was a part of his life, he was getting on that plane alone. Which, ironically, left me, alone as well.
“I was going to tell you, Lauren…I just, I just didn’t know how.”
“Looks like I saved you the trouble.” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes and making my way down those all too familiar stairs.
He didn’t come after me that night…after all, he had a flight to catch.