I wanted the perfect man. A man who would see to my needs. He'd be chivalrous; a man who holds the door or is willing to defer to his woman if it's to her comfort. He'd be honest; hard to measure this one, but I have a very reliable info network of friends and snoops. He's not afraid to cry; I love the stoic, brooding look on a man, but I'd love him more if he cried only to me. He'd be independent; I don't want the family drama, I need a man who can make decisions without a consultation. Most of all, he'd love me and wouldn't look at other women.
Desmond was the perfect target. He'd just had a bad break-up. He was depressed, suicidal, seeking love, and, most importantly, open to hearing what others thought was wrong with him so he could fix it. A people-pleaser, his family was also on the other side of the country. I couldn't ask for a better subject. I confess, his stoic, brooding look is what drew me to him. He had the hard part all taken care of. I needed to see about the rest.
I approached him rather easily. He was the senior technician at our lab. I was new to the company. It was well within my duties to approach him for assistance. If we made small conversation, it was justified as building team spirit. He was the most knowledgeable in our department. I admired that. A man must have extensive knowledge and a curiosity for learning to qualify in my book.
It was a Thursday afternoon when I approached Desmond. He was sitting in the far corner of the lab, looking down at his lap. From behind, you'd assume he'd fallen asleep. But as I got closer, I realised he was reading a wall of text on his PDA. Perhaps a new journal article had peaked his interest. I tapped his shoulder, and he turned to look at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen on a person.
"What's up?" I asked, trying to steal glances at the screen to see what he was reading.
He smiled weakly at me and put the PDA back in his pocket. "Nothing. What's up with you?"
"Saw you sitting here. Thought I'd say hi before I left. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm...fine."
"You don't look fine, D."
"...Things aren't really fine."
I pulled a stool closer and sat with him. "What happened?"
He looked around the lab then back at me. "I thought you were leaving? Aren't your friends waiting for you?"
"They can wait. What's not fine with you?"
He looked at me for a moment, as though he were weighing the cosmos before deciding if it was okay to talk to me. I often practise mimicking a genuinely interested or concerned face. I knew the precise way to tilt and turn my head, to raise my brows, droop my eyes and press my mouth. I switched my interested face and gave him the concerned look. He opened up without hesitation.
He'd caught his girlfriend of six years cheating on him with one of his close friends. He and the guy had had a fight, and he injured him badly. His family didn't take the news well and were angry with him. Apparently, the guy is a close friend of his family. His girlfriend broke up with him after the incident, and sent him a long and rather nasty email. That was two weeks ago.
He's been reading the email over and over, replaying their entire relationship bit by bit, trying to figure out what he did wrong. He confessed to drinking heavily and said it helped with the pain and put him to sleep since he couldn't fall asleep normally anymore. He talked a lot about killing himself. He thought she was his soulmate. Her betrayal and that email really hit him hard. Back then, I thought it wouldn't take a lot of work. He was in a state to be moulded; the clay was ready for the potter. I just had to shape him.
I gave him my number and over the next couple weeks we stayed up all night talking into the early hours. Getting his mind off his ex was not easy. I realised I needed to draw his attention from her; I needed to imprint on him. So I started asking him for handshakes randomly throughout the day. He liked that. His finger would stroke the back of my hand, and sometimes he would hold my hand and look at it. I knew I had him.
Our handshakes graduated to holding hands around the lab when the others weren't looking. Honestly, it was exciting. Fraternization is against company policy, so our quick touches created hidden moments of joy for me. We began meeting at bars and arcades. I had introduced him to my friends and soon we were meeting up "unexpectedly". Sometimes we'd go out deliberately with the others in the lab.
Chivalry was another thing I didn't need to train. He came from a decent Catholic family. He was polite and held the door for women and seniors. What I did have to groom, however, was his deference. What he had was not so much deference, it was more a lack of resistance. Perhaps it was a lack of self-respect. He tolerated a lot of injustices. The others leaving their work unfinished for him to complete; the manager not signing off on his overtime; the same manager cursing him for a mistake any of us made; then making him compile his reports for the CEO. It grated my nerves.
We had been close for three months before we officially started dating in secret. Our public encounters continued much the same way, meeting up at bars and arcades with my friends. But we had our real dates at each other's apartments, more mine than his. When we started dating, I warned him I didn't like the way the others were using him. Told him it was bad for his future as he was working overtime and the manager was not paying him for it. He stopped finishing their projects. Put his foot down and refused to complete their work. They were angry at him, but he held his ground. Good boy.
After six months, he started sleeping over at my place. We never took the same route to work when he stayed over. He'd take the bus or train, and I'd take a taxi like I'd always done. No one suspected we were dating. I made sure of that, as I had an openly flirtatious relationship with a security guard at the nearby mall. Desmond was jealous. I could see it in his eyes, but I told him why I was doing it and he stayed quiet. Good boy.
By the time our relationship hit a year, we were at second and third base. He wanted more, but I was not finished shaping him. My biggest concern at the time was his confession that he was acting as handyman for his ex. Who does that? Especially the way she treated him and broke up with him. She had turned him into a suicidal man before I recovered him. He would have been dead if it wasn't for me. How dare she?!
I demanded he stop. He said he wasn't doing it for her; he was close with some of her relatives and she was living with them, so in a way he was "helping her relatives". His reasoning made me flip out at him. I didn't speak with him for a week and was distant at work. The others picked up on my change in behaviour, which I explained as some family trouble. He called me every night during that week, leaving several distraught voice messages. Near the end, he sounded more broken than when I approached him.
The end result was that he cut ties with his ex's family. She didn't like that and made a scene outside the building one day. I heard the trouble and stepped out for coffee. When our eyes met, I gave him a disappointing stare, and his attitude towards her changed from deferring to commanding before he walked away from her. It was satisfying to hear her shouting at him, trying to control him. One thought sounded triumphantly in my mind: he's not your toy anymore, skank. Good boy!
Now over the course of our relationship, Desmond drew the attention of some of my friends. I'm not upset about it. It worked in our favour, so the company didn't find out about us. But that nagging at the back of my mind that he might be a cheat was there. While I couldn't out-rightly ask my contacts if he was sleeping around. I could use some phrases or spark conversations that would give me a clue. I found nothing suspicious in the feedback I got. So at least I knew he wasn't. As for other things, well, I just had to keep them in mind and verify them as time passed.
At this point, you're probably thinking I've succeeded. Sorry to burst your bubble. I hadn't. There was one hurdle to cross: his family. Don't get me wrong, I like family, especially mine. I just want a guy who doesn't lean almost entirely on his. Desmond was a bit like that. More so with his mother. She came to visit around our second anniversary. I baked her a cake, and she enjoyed it. There, nothing else to say. I saw how she watched me.
When she left, I asked Desmond about their relationship. He said since his dad stepped out on them when he was 10, they were really close. Problematic, but not fatally so. I could thrive as long as she stayed on the other end of the country and visited once a year. He didn't seem to be too dependent on his mother's direction, and their relationship was solid, so I didn't need to set any rules.
You could argue that I now have what I wanted. He was chivalrous, somewhat independent, honest, and he wasn't afraid to cry in front of me while looking stoic and brooding for the world. I got what I wanted. Only I didn't. His deference to me drove me up a wall. His crying annoyed the life out of me. His independence grew to include me. And his honesty! It felt like he never lied, but that made me even more suspicious.
I wanted to get away from him. I tried to break up with him several times, but he'd go off into suicide land. I didn't want another death on my conscience, so I stayed with him for two more years, doing everything I could to get him to break up with me. That security guard from before, I made him my lover. Only Desmond chased him away. I don't know what he said to the guy. He took on a commanding tone alright, demanding I stay away from all other guys. I couldn't even say hi to the guys at work, it would trigger his anger.
I don't know where I went wrong. But I'm telling you this as I'm strapped to a chair. I don't know where I am. Desmond is with me most of the time, hugging or kissing me, caressing me while talking about the life and children we're going to have together. Please send help!
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