Talk to me

I went to lunch with a co-worker today, and we did our comiseration thing, talking about life the universe and everything.

Next to us at the bar, sat a woman; red, tighly curled hair that fell down just past her shoulders. She's constantly aware of her cell phone, and there's some twinkling in her eyes that isn't from joy. She's chain smoking menthol Camels.

And I ask her if she's alright. She isn't, but thanks for asking.

So the 3 of us have this conversation about relationships. The two women I'm with: in bad relationships. Me: in a pretty good one.

I fully intend on doing what I can to keep it good.

But, here are these two women, who seem to be interesting people, interested in the universe, and they have surrounded themselves with men who, for whatever reason, aren't that good.

And all I can think of now is: please, please, please, don't let me turn into 'that guy' for very long. Please, please, m'lady, talk to me, tell me what's going on, tell me what is on your mind.

If someone has given up talking. The relationship is fucked. If someone has given up sex. The relationship is fucked.

I don't want to be that person, who has just let everything wither, because he is unable to rise up and say something. I worry about this because I look at my life and I worry about that...

I know I won't be happy all the time, but I no quitting. Please. No quitting.