Hanging out at my favorite local lunch spot I’m considering the menu options as my best friend orders first. Although I’m in the mood for a pasta-filled coma, I settle for the healthier choice of a salad. Our waitress leaves and I hear the question I have been dreading since we sat down.
“So what happened?”
My bestie is referring to my most recent setback in love. With a deep sign I say the only thing that comes to mind,
“Same thing that always happens.”
She looks at me with love, a slight hint of impatience, and incredible restraint.
“You want to talk about it?”
“No. I don’t feel like going through it again, let’s just say if there were any doubt about the breakup before, it no longer exist now. This relationship has been D.N.R.’ed.”
“Do Not Resuscitate. It’s done, over, kaput.”
She takes a long inhale as I see her contemplate how to go about helping me. Her long pause is beginning to make me uncomfortable, which I poorly mask by chewing on my lower lip.
“Carly, do you think you are a smart person?”
“Yes, except when I try to tackle any crossword puzzle other than People.”
“Do you think you are worth it?”
“Yeah, I guess… sometimes.”
“Do you know that you are pretty?”
“I do, on the days that I’m not having an ‘ugly day’.”
“How often do you have an ‘ugly day’?”
“Everyday.” I sigh knowing what’s coming next. “Look, I know that I need to work on my self-confidence. I have the self-help books, seen the shows, but let’s not talk about this immediately after a heartache. Your words of wisdom are lost on this particular point, at this particular time.
“I wasn’t, I know that is something that will come when you are ready to accept yourself.” Looking down she seems to choose her words very carefully. “Why do you insist on picking narcissistic, self-absorb, immature, guys?”
Now it is my turn to check out the floor. I know that she wants a real answer, and “I don’t know” just won’t do. Taking a sip of water, I clear my throat. “Truth?”
“If I pick guys who are self-absorbed then maybe they won’t notice all the shit I bring to the relationship, no pun intended.”
“Funny… What are you referring to? Your accomplishments? Your experiences? Your wisdom?”
“I don’t know, baggage I guess….”
She rolls her eyes and said what I knew she would say before the words left her mouth. “Everyone has baggage Carly.”
“No.” I reply, “You have baggage, I have a U-Haul. It’s compartmentalized, organized, and is on standby to be periodically unloaded at The Good Will of those things which are no longer necessary to hold on to, but it is still a U-Haul.”
Another eye-roll as she takes a minute considering where she goes from here. I saw the imaginary light bulb appear above her head and braced myself for impact.
“That’s your deal Carly. That’s the problem….”
“You have baggage, maybe more than most, so you need to start picking men like you were picking a moving company!”
“Hear me out. You started out picking men, if you want to call them that, who were of the Budget quality; settling for a possible flat tire, a hitch that held 90% of the time, and a leaking cabin that only left you with a wet ass after driving through a thunderstorm. You saved a couple of bucks, but in the end all you’re left with is an unreliable truck/man.”
“Okay… where you going with this?”
“Gimme a minute. More recently you have been choosing men, if you want to call them that.”
“Not necessary to qualify each time.”
“Fine. Men who are of the U-Haul quality. They tell you from the beginning you are on your own to deal with things by yourself. It’s not called We-Haul, or Together-Haul, it’s U-Haul. Then when it comes time for them to support you through any tough times that don’t directly affect their lives, they bail. You seemed surprised that when it came right down to it, you were never going to be as important to them as they are to themselves.”
Utterly speechless I watch as my idiot-savant best friend continued.
“From this point forward we are using a different moving company, another category of men.”
Pausing I can see her wheels turning.
“Two Men and a Truck. It’s perfect!”
“Okay, okay. Hold up. You had me with the Budget moving company, and I’m slowly grasping the concept of U-Haul, but Two Men and a Truck? You lost me, I need two separate relationships? Two men to achieve the perfect one man?”
“No, no” she’s reeling as her excitement overtakes.
“You are an amazing woman, smart, funny, and very special. You need a man who brings the same to the table. You don’t need two men, but one man who is amazing enough to do the job of two. He can be a friend and a lover, a motivator and supporter, a frog and a prince. I’ve been telling you for years that the guy for you is someone who loves and cherishes you, and is truly amazing in his own right. He’ll help you pack, load, and unload with energy left over to be everything that you deserve. Next relationship I want you to consider asking yourself one question, is he Budget, U-Haul, or worthy enough to be called Two Men and a Truck?”
Perfect timing our waitress arrived with our entrees. Gazing at her I’m at a loss for words. I realize she may have a funny way of putting it, but she is right. As a big smile bubbles up and out of my heart I say, “Is it hard always being right?”
With a dead serious, weary expression, she drops her shoulders and replies, “Exhausting.”
Carly Speelman© 2013
Edited By: Lauren Speelman