The "Relationship"

[colorider]

***** The relationship *****

Let's say Ned is attracted to a woman name Jennifer. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy
themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and
after a while neither one of them is seeing anyone else.

And then, one evening when they are driving home on Neds bike,
a thought occurs to Jennifer, without really thinking, she screams it aloud:

"Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each
other for exactly six months?" And then there is silence.
To Jennifer, it seems like a very loud silence.

She thinks to herself: Geez, I wonder if it bothers him that I
said that. Maybe he's feeling confined by our relationship;
maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of
obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.

And Ned, while taking the next curve, is thinking: Gosh, 6 months.

And Jennifer is thinking: But, hey, I'm not sure I want this
kind of relationship, either. Sometimes, I wish I had a little
more space, so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep on going the way we are, moving steadily forward...I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading for marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really know this person?

And Ned is thinking...so that means it was...let's see...February
when we started going out, which was right after I had the bike in at the Dealer's, which means, ... Let me check the
odometer...whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.

And Jennifer is thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face in the
mirrors. Maybe I am reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed -- even before I sensed it -- that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why he's so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of being rejected.

And Ned is thinking: And I'm gonna have them look at the
transmission again, too. I don't care what those morons say,
it's still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame
it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It's 87
degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck,
and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.

And Jennifer is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him.
I'd be angry too. God, I feel so guilty putting him through
this, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure.

And Ned is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day
warranty. That's exactly what they will say, the scum-balls.

And Jennifer is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting
for a knight to come riding up on a white horse, when I'm
sitting and snuggling right behind a perfectly decent person, a person who I enjoy being with, a person who I care about, a person who truly cares about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.

And Ned is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give
them a warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up
their...

"Ned," Jennifer says aloud.

"What?" says Ned, startled, almost running off the road.

"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes
beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never...oh God, I
feel so..." (she breaks down, sobbing.)

"What?" says Ned, trying to see her face in one of the mirrors.

"I'm such a fool." Jennifer sobs. "I mean I know there's no
knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."

"There's no horse?" says Ned, slowing down now.

"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Jennifer says.

"No!" says Ned, glad to finally know the correct answer, then
speeds up again a little.

"It's just...it's that I...I need some time," Jennifer says.

(there is a fifteen second pause while Ned, thinking as fast as
he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally, he
comes up with what he thinks might work.)

"Yes," he says.

a befuddled pause

"Oh Ned, do you really feel that way?" she says.

"What way?" says Ned.

"That way about time," says Jennifer.

"Oh," says Ned. "yes."

(Jennifer stands on the pegs, leans forward, turns to face him
and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become
very nervous about what she might say next, especially
if it involves a horse. His face shield fogs a little. At last, she
speaks.)

"Thank you, Ned," she shouts.

"Thank you," says Ned, more confused than ever.

Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted,
tortured soul, and weeps until dawn. Whereas, when Ned gets
back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV,
and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis
match between two Czechoslovakians he has never even heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him something
major was going on back there on the bike, but he is pretty sure
he would never understand, and he figures it's better if he
doesn't think about it.

The next day, Jennifer will call one of her closest friends, or
perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for
weeks. For six straight hours, in painstaking detail, they will
analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over
it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and
gesture of Ned's helmet and shoulders for nuances of meaning, considering every ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months never reaching definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it either.

Meanwhile, Ned, while working on his bike with a mutual friend of
his and Jennifer's, will pause, frown, and say:

"Did Jennifer ever own a horse?"