What do people do?

Is this where the bad decisions come from? Idle hands and all that?

Here, I find myself with a day off. And nothing to do. At least there is nothing I have to do. Today.

I can stay in bed. All day. Glorious, no?

Except, that is what I do. All day. Nothing.

Clarissa calls me. “What are you going to do today?”

I have no answer. Other than, “I can come over.”

“That’s not what I want,” is her reply.

Here, I lie in bed. With nothing to do.

Yet, people do things. Have I always been like this? Just sitting in neutral with no tasks at hand?

I joke. “My hobby is sleeping,” I say. It’s not wrong though. It’s no joke. Some days, I don’t leave the apartment. Or the cottage. Or the house.

At times, I adventure. No city is too far. Nor countryside. Nor attraction. Nor mountain, nor monument.

But why? For those Marriott beds? Perhaps. Because I will sleep on “vacation” too. Hmm.

No drive.

Yes, I will wander into the out. I will find something to eat. Likely a sandwich or a taco. Preferably a taco, but again she doesn’t want to see me. I will go get some things from the store. Fabric softener is at the top of the list.

I need a haircut. The bedding needs washed. Or warshed, depending on your dialect. I used to exercise—walks, lifting at the gym, runs. Hell, I used to eat far more protein than I currently do. My back hurts, so a trip to the chiropractor definitely won’t hurt. I have more books to read than I can finish before I die. I’m tragically pale—and unhappy—so a few minutes under the happy lights is an option as well. I used to write. More. A lot more.

And there’s plenty of time in the day to do it. But there’s television. And doom scrolling. Clarissa will call again and we’ll talk—probably for hours. She is also doing nothing. Sitting in the dark. Thinking. About everything. About life.

When did we become so lost? So idle? Devil’s playthings, indeed.

Yet, I am so comfortable. Lying in this bed. Typing this out on a laptop. I can roll over and go back to sleep. And it will be glorious. Satisfying. I’m so relaxed.

What if comfort is an indication that I am less? The key indicator that I am NOT doing the right thing? What if it’s my drug. Not unlike her. This euphoric sensation of the next narcoleptic wave that will whisk me away to dreamland. Where adventure and sex and love and action await.

Seriously, what do people do? And what will I do today?

I don’t know how to not be Superman. Even though I’m not a… super man. I know she’s hurting, I can feel it. And as much as I wish I knew what to do, I really don’t. I don’t even know if being there for her is the right move.

Is she depleting me? If she is, I don’t feel it. I am never more at peace than in her presence—even during her moments of chaotic turmoil.

She doesn’t fully believe that she can escape… no, that’s not the right word… affect her life. Her lifestyle. All she has known is being sexualized. Which is a tragedy, because she is a beautiful woman. And confident… most of the time. But she only knows she doesn’t want life as it is right now.

And escape. Escape is tantalizing. Life is long and hard and mostly dull. So, this is what attracts us to new experiences… someone new may come along, and we like them, so we trust them immediately. A couple of drinks later, we’re opening up to them. Next thing you know, we’re friends. Maybe a little bit more.

We all have demons—some we control, some we ignore, yet all are dangerous—but we try to put on our best mask. We smile. And, Lord, the drink helps here. Because, it is so much easier than full honesty.

Ask how I know.

In seven years, we both harbor secrets. Yes, honesty is important. Yet I don’t want or need to know everything she has (or wants) to share. Or not. All I can do is be here for her to listen. To help her through this struggle. Maybe more, but we’re starting here.

Does she want me to share more? Possibly, yet I have no way of knowing.

Over the last several days, she has shown me that I matter. Yet she is so slow to trust. Maybe it’s because we’re taught that anyone who is too good to be true must be. I’m not the ideal candidate, yet we share a genuine affection for each other. Even if we don’t exactly know what to do about it.

No, I’m not Superman. I cannot save her. I may not be able to save myself. But I cannot leave her to face her demons alone.

Right now, I’m more than her friend. Right now, I cannot be her lover. Right now, I can be her champion. I can listen when she wants to talk. I can take care of certain things with her and for her. I can show her how much she matters. To her daughter. To her family. To me. To herself? Maybe. Eventually. That may take some time.

It’s true. We can only heal through radical honesty. With others? Yes, but that falls flat when we’re not being radically honest with ourselves. That’s when the victim mentality sets in.

Are we sure we did nothing to let this happen? Sometimes we only have to open the door… and discover that a friend is not really a friend. Yet closing ourselves off is not the answer either.

She’s sleeping so peacefully right now, and I weep while I wish for her to hold onto this peace while awake. And at night. Nights are the hardest, I know, my love, and it’s terrifying when one of the demons follows you into the daylight. I know you want to understand why it happened. How anyone who professes love to you can betray you. Some answers are not ours to discover… only karma or the universe can sort it out.

Yet this is her dark night of the soul. I suppose I can accompany her, but ultimately this is her path to walk… alone. And all I can do is stay on my own path and offer support within my means. Will there be moments of tough love? Times when I’ll have to wait outside the dark cave while she does battle? I have no doubt.

I am learning a lot about love. What does it mean to be there for someone? When she’s sick? What if she loses the battle? What if the demons win?

And what about me? I am the way I am, because I never wanted to take care of anyone in my life… hell, let’s be honest. I never wanted to care for anyone else in my life. This. This is way this young woman blindsided me. Was there an initial attraction? Yes, but this was more. It’s like our souls touched. And entangled.

So, I couldn’t let go even if I wanted to. Herein lies yet another lesson. Because I have to hold on to myself. No matter what happens with this woman. I have glimpsed her life. Getting sucked in can ruin me. Pulling her out will require effort on her part… something she possesses today, but the past has a strong hold on us. Limiting beliefs. Indoctrination. That shit is buried deep in our psyche. And we trend lazy. Working on growing every single day is exhausting. If only we just grew… without thought. Like the plants. I wonder, do the plants feel pain? And what if growth didn’t have to hurt? Or healing?

So much of our past is comfortable. And there have been great times with people who ultimately betrayed us. And it sucks. I believe it is important to remember that each new day is a fresh start. That our sins can be forgiven. And that we can find peace.