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“You tore what up?”
She sighs, a sound that suggests exasperation and frustration. “I tore up the list.”
“You tore it up?”
Inwardly, I curse. She just said that and she's going to get annoyed with me repeating her sentences. As if she isn't annoyed with me enough already.
It's just that it doesn't make any more sense to me now than when she first said it.
“I couldn't see it at the time, but my friends were right about the list. I wanted someone who was a carbon copy of myself. That's never going to work for me. I can't date myself.”
“Why not? You're pretty awesome.”
“It's not like any of the guys I've dated ever thought that. I'm not dating the right guys. I can see that now.”
“So...what type of guys are you planning on dating now?”
“A different kind.” I can almost see her shrug.
“Do you have a new list?”
“Not yet. Well, I guess I kind of have one, but it's in my head.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to hear it.”
For some reason I want to torture myself by listening to her talk about the kind of guy she wants now. I'm not sure why, but I suspect it's because it means she's not dating anyone yet. The relief is like a bottomless pit that can never be filled. I'm not ready to get off the phone with her yet.
“Dylan...”
“Does he make you laugh? Does he work in a bar? Does he drive you crazy? Does he make you jump out of aeroplanes?”
Is he like me?
She laughs – a sound I haven't heard in far too long. “I think I need someone who can push me out of my comfort zone a little, yeah.”
I feel a little bit smug, even as jealousy charges through me at having to compete for her affection with a version of myself. “So, you're looking for Dylan 2.0, hey?”
“Something like that,” she says hesitantly. “I need the version of you who can marry me and give me the family I want.”
The smile slips off my face as her words arrow through my heart. Even if she wants someone like me, she wants a life I won't be able to give her soon enough. “Is that even possible? Wouldn't Dylan 2.0 want freedom and travel, too?”
“Maybe he's already done his travelling. Maybe he's already done seeing the world. Maybe he's ready to settle down and have a family.”
“Maybe...” I say.
What else am I supposed to say? I doubt telling her the only reason I put off travelling for so long in the first place was because I wanted to see her settled down and happy. Now I wonder if I destroyed every chance I might have had of making things permanent by sticking around to keep an eye on her. If I'd gotten over the travelling bug earlier...
Except there's no guarantee I would be over it by now even if I'd left years earlier. No guarantee that I'd be home, ready to give her what she wants.
Still, the thought of her with a man like me, with a family...it makes breathing almost impossible.
“Anyway, I should probably go.”
“What's the rush? Where are you going? It's Sunday night.”
