Sitting around, shooting the shit with the folks. We talked about odds and ends. They’re fond of bringing up relationships, marriage, and just how different they are from each other. Mostly about how they piss each other off in a non-endearing way. I sometimes think ‘get divorced already’ which is depressingly juvenile.

This particular time, I was standing and leaning against the doorframe. I was looking into the kitchen, my pop sitting by the breakfast nook and mom putting things away near the stove. She was wearing old sweaters. She’d just turned fifty and I told her she was beautiful then, beautiful now, beautiful tomorrow. I said it in in all seriousness and lacked the charm that some people require in order to believe things. Pop was wondering about my girlfriends and why they’ve never met a single one. Mom just listened, being more respectful of privacy and all.

“It doesn’t last. I think I lack the patience for the kind of women I love. Most things.”

“So why don’t you go out and find another girl? Just a friend.” He believes in satisfying needs. No harm, no foul.

“No. I’m all in or I don’t bother.”

“But you can’t be alone forever.”

“Don’t worry. Life doesn’t allow me to be alone.”

“You’re like me,” said Mom. “You do it with your heart or you don’t try.” It was such a sad thing to say. The ‘don’t try’ part lingered.

Pop gave us a look that reflected we weren’t him. “I’m just saying you can have friends. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Not at all, but not for me.”

We became silent until he spoke up.

“What was her name? This girl?”

I was going to ask which, but I couldn’t explain the complicated nature of the past year. Or rather, the sheer simplicity of the situation. So I just talked about the last girl I was with, and how kind and thoughtful she was. They were thrilled when I told them she cooked for me.

Something so simple. If this was the point—the cooking and the providing and the satisfying needs—I’d be in heaven.