You Make Me Smile

There they were, the words I longed for, “Do you want to marry me?” It was in a text message, not verbally said to me on bended knee, but they were the same words that have been said to me previously by so many men, who like Marcus, never meant them. They were said to me over the internet out of some cheap thrill or in hopes to get me to thrill them with my words. They were said to me by a man who was already married, but continually played a twisted game with my heart. They were once said to me by my ex-husband, but he later said that I bullied him into saying them, so they don’t count either. I feel I have never been proposed to, not properly, not by a man who truly meant it. Yet, it was so wonderful to see those words on my phone screen.

However, I knew Marcus didn’t mean them. In his country, he is a lawyer and I knew that this was a business proposition, nothing more. For a moment, I allowed myself to toy with the idea. Maybe I could do this, maybe I could learn to love this man. For centuries, arranged marriages were the way empires were built, maybe we could build something together, learn to love each other. After all, even when he would go on and on about the political strife in his country, or talk about what is wrong with America, he made me smile. He made me smile by sharing his music with me and telling me that I am “very pretty” in a most sincere manner. He made me smile by kissing me after he had eaten some of an extremely spicy native dish he had made, so spicy that his lips made mine tingle. He made me smile with his accent and the way he paused to say “Yes?” to make certain I was understanding him. He made me smile, but I knew I did not trust him to be faithful to me and that would crush my soul.

I wrote back, “Why?” “Am just curious??” was his response. I wrote back, “You don’t even like me. ;-)” “Is that what you think, just that you can be crazy at times.” an honest reply. I wrote about how I enjoy our time together, why else would I drive way out to where he lives, late at night, and bring him sustenance. I asked how he felt about Mary Stevens, he said they hadn’t met and what was this word “sustenance”? I told him that I feed him and liquor him up and that I hoped on some level, I fed his soul as well. In his usual manner, he said that I was hilarious and said that in all of this, I don’t do anything for you? I simply replied, “You make me smile.” He was glad that I acknowledged that and said it was mutual.

I asked him to be honest with me and if his reason for asking me to marry him had any to do with his visa. No, but yes basically was his answer. I told Marcus that I had gotten married the first time for the wrong reasons and I was not willing to do that again. Odds are, I will never remarry, unless it is for true love, if that even exists. He also reminded me of how he longed to have a child, to which I reminded him that I could not give him one. I wished him luck on his quest to remain in America, I would never want to live anywhere else. He didn’t seem to understand what I was talking about and asked if I was off from work. I was not and asked why he was wasting time with me, that he needed to find a younger woman to have a child with. He said that he enjoyed my company and that I crack him up and asked if I was coming over that night. Oh bother.

I told him no, that I had a very long day ahead of me and tomorrow as well. In his usual manner he replied, “Okay every other thing is more important than me, that’s fine.” Who was this guy, I mean really? In all honesty, I was nothing to him, my personal welfare meant nothing to him, but he always made me feel guilty about not serving his needs. I told him that my mental and physical health are my priority and asked what time he was free that day. I wasn’t going to head over there at 10pm, but I could do 7. After all, I have needs to be met as well. I agreed to meet him.

This time, I did not bring any sustenance with me. I had gotten what I went for and left, just like our first encounter. I had no expectations and as I drove home, I was fairly certain I would never hear from him again, but I did. The next morning, he asked if I had arrived home safely, something he should have done an hour after I left, but no matter, I appreciated the courtesy. Over the next few weeks we exchanged playful text messages along with some of sincerity. It felt nice when he said he was just checking up on me, but I continued to have no expectations.

Marcus had once asked me about us meeting at a hotel to enjoy each other. I did have some points to use from an account John had set up for me. I didn’t realize then that he had the points to give me since he worked at a hotel and spent time there with Jane. How perfect would it be to use those points with Marcus. I managed to find a time that would work with both of our schedules and made a reservation. I sent him the information and that is when he told me he had taken a new job as a taxi driver. I asked him, that I thought his visa was attached to him working for the home health care agency and if he now had a wife he should introduce me to. He said no, but that time was not on his side.

It felt like the old times I had with John, before we lived together and met at hotels. I was excited and planned out everything, what to wear, what to pack, what sustenance to bring. I brought a variety of everything to meet whatever needs Marcus would have, except I didn’t bring food that would be spicy enough to meet his tastes. I shared this information with him after checking into the hotel. He decided that what I brought would not be to his liking, so he told me he was going to pick up something different to eat. Time was ticking away and I was getting ticked off. He was hours late, so I started drinking. I kept myself entertained by going to the pool, reading and dancing around the hotel room in my perfectly planned outfit and, I kept drinking. Was I being stood up? Seriously? After all the planning? So, I sent him a text message, “Good thing I packed my vibrator. Are you a no show?”

There was a knock on the door. I tipsily stood behind the door and opened it so he could not see me standing there until I closed it. In my drunken state, I half hoped I would see John standing there. In all honesty, I longed for John to be standing there, it all had been a bad dream and I would have my perfect playmate once more, but no. Marcus stood there, a little startled to see me hiding behind the door. I took the parcel he was carrying out of his hands, placed it on the floor and took him to heaven, right there. Then again on the sofa and again on the bed. It was then that I realized that anyone could have walked through that door and I would have used them, just the same, in my attempt to recapture what I once had, for nine years, but could no longer have. It WAS a good thing that I had packed my vibrator, because no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I wanted Marcus to thrill me, it would not happen. I could not make him be who I wanted him to be, just like I couldn’t be someone he would love and be faithful to. We couldn’t make something where nothing existed.

That would be the last time I saw Marcus and I was okay with that. He had been a very good “transitional guy”, but now it was time to find someone real to spend my time with. No more playthings, no more lying to myself. It was time to let go of the fantasy of trying to recreate what I once had, who I once was, turn and walk into the unknown, alone.