The Split

THE SPLIT

By Penny Tyler

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              “My name is Mandi and I’m a sex addict.”  I say, a mantra that I know like the back of my hand by now.

              I look down at the literal back of my hand for a moment and study myself.  Sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own skin, and tonight is one of those nights.  How the hell did I even end up here?

              “Hi Mandi!”  The crowd responds with a resounding chorus of support.

              I’ve been coming to these meetings for a long time, and this part is still difficult.  Once I start talking the words will just flow out of my brain and into the air like beautiful confessional butterflies, but for the first few seconds of silence between my greeting and their response, it feels like I’m sitting atop a giant roller coaster just waiting for the plunge.  The butterflies remain firmly planted within the pit of my stomach.  The hair on the back of my neck stands straight up as I try desperately to will myself into speaking.

              Finally, my lips part and my story comes tumbling out.

              “It’s been two years since my last sexual encounter.”  I tell the group, a ragtag bunch of fellow addicts sitting around in the loose formation of a circle. 

              We’re in the dimly lit corner of a church basement at the far end of Hollywood boulevard, past the glitz and the glamour, where the liquor stores start to pop up and the gleeful tourists fade away.  The only ones left to wander around over here are down and out actors and failed screenwriters, angst filled shells of their former selves who swear up and down that they could’ve been the one if they’d only landed that role.  Maybe next time, they think.

              The group responds to my admission with a smatter of supportive congratulations.                I nod in appreciation, accepting one of the few things in my life right now that I can truly be proud of, my abstinence.

              “Honestly, I don’t really think about sex all that much anymore.”  I tell the group.  “It’s gotten to the point where it just doesn’t seem to cross my mind, and I’m working all the time so that makes things a little easier.”  I laugh.  “Work is a fucking pain these days.”

              “What’s hard about work?”  Our group leader, Tara asks.

              Tara is a beautiful older woman, who was once a porn starlet in the golden age of VHS tapes and late night, adult channel skin flicks.  You can still see it in the way that carries herself, with the confidence and knowledge that, at one point, she could have had any man that she wanted just by flashing a smile and giving a sly little wink.

              Apparently, the industry wasn’t all that good to Tara in her later years, because she ended up here with the rest of us, having abstained from sex for nearly a decade.  Tara says that she’s saving herself until she finds the one, a perfect man who can somehow undo all of the trauma and anxiety that has mummified her sex life, but I have my doubts.  Straight up, I don’t think Tara ever wants to see another penis again.

              “Work is…” I trail off.  “Work.  I mean, nobody really likes to work do they?”

              “Some of us do.”  Tara tells me.  “This is what I do for work and I love it.”

              “True.”  I say, nodding, “But, you of all people know what it’s like to take it up the ass for a paycheck.”

              A heavy, and achingly awkward, silence falls over the room.

              The second that the words left my mouth I had regretted them.  I wasn’t trying to be mean in any way, not at all, but there is a certain sting to my joke that I can’t help notice now that it’s all too late. 

              Full disclosure, in some ways, I’m a little jealous of Tara.  We’re both sisters in abstinence, but every day I’m growing more and more convinced that I don’t really have a choice in the matter.  Even if I wanted a man in my life, I’m not sure that I could find one.  Tara, on the other hand, is still a stunner and, in her mid forties, she’s almost twice my age.

              Don’t get me wrong, I’m not terrible looking by any stretch, but there are certainly no delusions of a runway-modeling carrier in my future.  I’m a plain Jane; average weight and a little on the short side, with mousy brown hair and a face that I’m not entirely happy with.  I’m just another face in the crowd, and I’ve come to terms with that.

              Tara, on the other hand, could still probably steal the boyfriend off of any little tart that strutted her way in here if she really wanted to.  Luckily, the woman knows a thing or two about restraint, and she’s also got a sense of humor.

              “You’re right about that!”  Tara finally says, laughing at my joke and signaling to the rest of the group that it’s okay to join in at her expense.  God damn, I love this woman; so solid in her own self worth.  In the entire time that I’ve been coming to this Hollywood meeting, I’ve never seen her lose her cool.

              “I don’t know what it is that makes work so awful these days.”  I blurt, collecting my thoughts again and trying to focus.  “It kind of sucks to that the guys at the lab see me as such a… prude, I guess.”

              I glance around the circle of fellow sex addicts, looking for any kind of response but only met with their steady gazes.  One of two of the women nod in understanding, which is all the encouragement that I need.

              “They know I’m not seeing anyone.”  I continue.  “But they’ve all tried to hook up with me and I’ve stayed strong.  Now that the option isn’t there any longer it’s like I’m invisible.  Meanwhile there’s this new girl, Jamie, who I just know is already fucking her way to the top.  She’s been at the lab a quarter of the time that I’ve been there and already received two promotions.  One more and she’s technically going to be my boss.”

              A man sitting directly across from me in the circle raises his hand and I nod in his direction.  I’ve never seen him before, but the second that our eyes meet I can feel something strange blossom inside of me, a tiny pin prick of my heart that floods out across my veins like a warm, pleasant ache.

              This is why we shouldn’t have co-ed sexaholics meetings, I think to myself.                Apparently, in the officially sanctioned groups, they split things up by gender as a steadfast and unbreakable rule, but our wild bunch is technically not an official chapter of Sexaholics Anonymous, just Tara’s personal bit of community service.  She uses a lot of the same methods of the bigger meeting groups, to the point where many of our members are supplementing there official meetings by coming here on the side, but we’re still not the real deal.

              “I’m sorry, I think I must have missed it.  Where do you work?” The man asks with genuine curiosity.  “Most people say office, you say lab.”

              Tara immediately steps in.  “Actually, Mandi has a government job that is very strict about its secrecy.  We’re all about being open here but, as we’ve covered before, this is something that we’re not going to talk about.”

              The man lowers his beautiful blue eyes, looking somewhat ashamed of himself.

              “It’s okay.”  I tell him.  “I just can’t really talk about it.”

              There is an strange silence as the entire room looks inward, everyone running wild with their own personal suspicions of what I could possibly be doing out at Allencorp laboratories. 

              Eventually, Tara claps her hands together in an attempt to get things moving again.

              “Anything else you’d like to talk about tonight?”  She asks me.

              I shake my head.  “Nah, that’s about it.”

              “Thanks for sharing.”  Tara says, which is everyone else’s cue to burst into a solid applause.  “Peter, you’re up next.”

              Peter, the older man sitting next to me, starts to speak but I tune him out, instead focusing on the handsome newcomer directly across the way.

              There is something utterly intoxicating about the mystery man’s presence, a strange mixture of confidence and intelligence that I can’t quite put my finger on.  He’s laid back and unassuming, as if he doesn’t need to be the loudest, biggest man in the room simply because he already knows that he is.

              Basically, he seems like the opposite of every guy that I’ve ever gone for; cool and controlled.

              After the meeting is finished, I head over to the snack table and start filling up on chips and dip.  I’ve been so unhappy at work lately that I’ve started avoiding going home following functions like this, because I know that the next step is sleep and then comes the morning and another long workday at the lab.  Oh, the life of a single, celibate woman.

              I make my way down the table; picking at some hummus and pita, followed by a few baby carrots and then a chocolate chip cookie.

              “Hey.”  Comes a warm voice from behind me.

              I spin around abruptly and come face to face with the handsome newcomer.

              “I’m Derek Stone.”  He says, extending his hand.  “I just wanted to apologize for earlier, I didn’t know that questions about your job were off limits, I was just trying to be proactive.  I’m new here.”

              “Mandi Evans.”  I tell him, reaching out and giving Derek a friendly handshake.

              Now that I’m this close to him, I can finally discern just how handsome this guy actually is.  Derek is perfectly chiseled in every way, from his jaw line down to the hint of muscular chest that peeks out from the edge of his heather gray v-neck.  His hair is wild and messy but short cropped, and he wears about two days worth of stubble like nobodies business.

              I can feel a slight throbbing ache deep within my loins, a place that literally hasn’t been touched in years.  I already know that talking to this guy is probably a bad idea, (After all, what better why to relapse than with a fellow addict?) but I can’t help being slowly charmed by his quietly confident demeanor.

              What’s a little harmless flirting after all?

              “Yeah, Tara was a little harsh on you about that.”  I tell Derek, glancing over at the woman in question as she holds the door for a few exiting members with a smile and a nod.  “She means well though.”

              “Yeah.”  Derek agrees.  “I can see that, she seems really great.  I think I could get a lot of good out of this place.”

              I eye him curiously.  There’s more to this guy than meets the eye, that’s for sure.

              “You didn’t share today.”  I tell him, as if he hadn’t noticed.

              “Nah, not yet.”  Derek explains.  “Didn’t seem like the right time, first meeting and all.”

              I shrug.  “Whatever, it takes some people months of listening before they open up.”

              The two of us stand here for a moment and I’m not exactly sure what to say next.  Derek doesn’t seem to mind though, perfectly comfortable with the silence.

              “Do you want to go grab something to eat?”  Derek finally asks.

              I want so badly to say yes but, the second his words hit my ears, alarm bells start ringing deep within my brain.  I can’t even remember the last time I was asked out by a guy that was this handsome, and sweet, too.  By all accounts, Derek seems like the full package that any reasonable woman would be swooning after.

              I start to open my mouth and then hesitate, catching the words in my throat.  I quickly change course.

              “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  I tell him.

              I fully expect Derek to be devastated by the news, but instead he smiles warmly.  “No worries.”

              His confidence unwavering, Derek turns his attention back to the table of food, where he grabs a cookie and then takes a bite.  He chews slowly and swallows.

              “I’m sorry.”  I say, immediately regretting my decision to turn him down, and his lack of disappointment only making things even worse for me.

              Derek shrugs.  “You seem like a very sweet girl but, honestly, I get it.  This is the last place I should be trying to get a date.”

              I don’t say anything because he’s right, but I don’t care.  I want nothing more than for the two of us to get out of here and grab a drink, to talk to each other like neither of us are the damaged addicts that we are.  I miss the mystery and suspense of being around a secure, sexy man.

              “Well, it was nice to meet you, Mandi.”  Derek says, giving me a little wink.  “I’ll see you at the next meeting.”

              With that, Derek turns and heads towards the door, leaving me in a state of speechless yearning.  I watch as he exchanges a few words with Tara and then departs into the warm Hollywood night, flipping a small silver coin into the air and then catching it again with his hand.

              It’s one thing to refrain from sex, but did I really have to deny every human connection that comes my way?

              I let out a long sigh and gather my things, heading home alone once again.