“Why don’t you tell me how you felt up until then.”
“I was sad that it was over. I was mad that she decided to just end it like that. I was annoyed that she hadn’t texted me back. I was confused as to how she could change her mind about not wanting to move out here so quickly, and I was pretty sure she’d change it back again any day now.”
“Had you discussed her moving out here to be with you before?”
“We had discussed the possibility of me moving to New York to live with her or her moving here to live with me. We just wanted to be together.”
“Have you ever lived with a girlfriend before? Or been married?”
“No. Neither.” He smirks, just a little. “Are you still unmarried?”
“Let’s stay with you. Are you still in love with this woman?”
“I still feel pretty attached to her, just because we spent every day together. I’m not over her yet. I still think about her. But I’m not in love with her. She might not have the depth I thought she had.”
“And how does it feel to think about not being attached to her?”
“Not great, but I don’t feel lost or anything. I’m not despondent. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me as a person just because she doesn’t want to be with me anymore. I just liked being with her. I like feeling attached to a woman. I like to be in love with a woman, and I like being in a committed relationship with a woman. But I’m not depressed. I don’t get depressed. I don’t have extreme mood swings. I don’t lose my identity. I don’t idealize my girlfriends. I just don’t get much emotional support from the women I date. Are you trying to assess my attachment style? Because I’ve talked about this with other therapists. I’ve read the books and done the tests. I’m not anxious or avoidant. I’m pretty secure.”
I’ll be the judge of that.
“Would you mind telling me how long your relationships with women usually last, Dylan?”
“For as long as we’re working together.”
“Working together as actors?”
“Yes. Not much longer after the production has ended, usually. I’ve never dated the models I’ve worked with.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ve never felt a connection with any of them. We don’t usually share many interests. And I don’t work with them for very long.”
I take a deep breath so as not to shudder distastefully before saying, “But you always feel a connection with the actresses you’ve worked with?”
“Just the ones who play my love interests.”
“So there’s a definite pattern.”
“Definitely. But it’s not a destructive one. Nobody gets hurt or anything.”
I’ll be the judge of that too…
“I’m glad to hear it. So you exclusively date actresses who play your love interests?”
Another little smirk. “Well, it’s not a rule or anything. I just can’t seem to get any mental health practitioners to go out with me…”
“Could you tell me how long ago your most recent relationship ended and how?”
“Couple of weeks ago. Nothing too dramatic. She just decided we weren’t really compatible.”
“Do you disagree with her?”
“I think we were compatible enough to spend every single day together when it was fun and romantic and convenient, and I think that all relationships take work. She wasn’t willing to do the work once it stopped being necessary for us to see each other every day. End of story. That’s how it always goes.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
“Which part?” he asks.
“‘That’s how it always goes.’”
“I’m getting a little tired of it. Not the falling in love part. But the falling in love with actresses part. You aren’t an actress, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Good. I mean, I’m sure you’d be really good and successful if you were.” He offers this as a genuine compliment—because in Los Angeles that’s meant to be high praise.
“Let’s stay with you. It sounds to me like you’re pretty okay with the end of this relationship.”
“Like I said, I feel okay with it now.”
“Now that you’re focusing on someone else you’d like to spend time with?”
“Now that I’m focusing on you, specifically, yes.”
“I think the only way for therapy to work in this situation is if we both focus on you here.”
“Well, I usually prefer to give and take in these situations, but if you want to focus on me for now, I’m fine with that.”
“Dylan. If you’re going to flirt with me, this won’t work. I need you to decide what you want.”
“I told you what I want.”
“And I told you I can’t go out with you. Do you want to talk about your relationship issues with me—as your therapist—or not?”
“I wouldn’t say that I have any relationship issues, but I want to keep talking to you. Yes. Do you think I’m a love addict? Because I’m not. It’s not a compulsion. I don’t usually ask women out if I’ve just met them. I don’t usually go from bemoaning the end of a relationship one minute to lusting after the first beautiful woman I see the next. I’m not saying I’m lusting after you. I’m just saying that none of my prior therapists have diagnosed me as pathological in any way, and I’m not delusional, even though my entire family seems to think I am…” He takes in a sharp breath and looks away.
Well this is something.
“Why don’t you tell me about that.”
“I always know when my acting partner and I are acting and when we aren’t. I know they aren’t pretending to be in love with me when we’re working together, and I’m positive that I’m never pretending to be in love with them. I’m not just in love with being in love. I actually fall in love with the woman. One woman at a time. Not the characters they’re playing. The woman she actually is. In real life. I don’t see why I should apologize to my family for falling in love with women. Why is that a bad thing?”
“Do you apologize to them? Your family?”
“No. Never. They always make fun of me, but I don’t care.”
“You don’t?”
“I mean, I do. Of course I care. It pisses me off. But it doesn’t make me doubt myself. My brothers are just jealous because they’ve been burned. Well, not Owen—he finally met someone great. But Miles, my oldest brother. He’s been married to his work since before he got divorced, and he’s a slave to his daughter, Macy.”
“Do you not like children?” If he doesn’t, obviously that’s a dealbreaker. That and the fact that he’s a patient. And an actor. And too young for me.
“What? No, I love kids. I want kids. Why would you ask that? You have kids, right? Or one kid?”
So he did notice the car seat. And he still wants to take me to dinner. Interesting.
But not happening.
“The term slave seemed a bit harsh, that’s all.”
“It only sounds harsh because you haven’t met Macy. I love her—don’t get me wrong. She’s a really sweet little girl. Well, not sweet. She’s kind of an asshole. She can’t sing to save her life, and my brother has no regrets about sacrificing his love life for her, to give her whatever she wants. But he’s in no position to criticize my love life, is my point.”