Peter, I screwed everything up.
I'm guessing you're talking about your weekend, right?
He told you about it, didn't he?
He stayed pretty vague, so I figured something happened. You guys fought, is that it?
Yeah… well no, not even this time. We left kind of abruptly because he had to work, but he was really distant on the way back. I could tell he was upset.
Cathy, I don't think it was anger—I think it was disappointment. I'm not really the right person to give relationship advice, considering I can't keep a girl longer than three weeks, but I do know that talking can help a lot.
But we do talk…
…To me! You talk to me! Okay, growing up we always worked as three—but that doesn't work anymore. You can't keep coming to me when all it would take is for you two to actually talk to each other to clear up a lot of misunderstandings. What were you expecting from that weekend?
To finally spend time with Marc.
And he wanted the exact same thing. So how do you end up coming back pissed at each other when you both wanted the same thing to begin with?
I was scared it would end up like it did with Stephane.
Like with Stephane? What do you mean?
The time I asked him to come over to my place.
Cathy, I forbid you from thinking about that as if you did something wrong! And Marc is not Stephane—you know that. He would never force you into anything. Have you talked to him about that whole episode?
No. Definitely not.
Well then… maybe you really should.
************
Marc, we need to talk. I saw my relationship counselor and he told me to come and clear things up with you.
…?
I'm talking about Peter, obviously.
I'm dying laughing—that title suits him perfectly! He missed his calling, I'll tell him.
Marc, listen. I get that this weekend didn't turn out the way you expected. You were really cold on the way back, and it's been the same ever since. So stop sulking in your corner.
I'm not sulking—I'm overthinking.
Great, same result. You've barely said three words to me since Sunday. So go ahead and yell at me if it helps.
I don't want to yell at you. Why are you saying that?
We left in a rush on Sunday, you've been super distant since. I get that things didn't go the way you wanted, and it's my fault.
Stop. Stop. Stop. I'm not mad at you—at all. I'm mad at myself. Only at myself. And nothing is your fault. Why would you say that?
At yourself? Why?
Because I realized I accidentally pulled the exact same move Stephane did. Everything was perfect in my head—but it stayed in my head. I must've scared you or pressured you with that weekend when all I wanted was to spend time with you, hold you in my arms, get us out of our books for once.
I was really happy when you suggested the sea weekend. I never once compared it to Stephane's mountain weekend. Yes, I was anxious, and I should've talked to you before. But we move forward by making mistakes, we learn—don't you think?
Yeah, but this pattern sucks. We do something great, then we don't understand each other and we're both miserable. Then we talk, fix it, and a bit later we do it all over again. I don't feel like we're learning much, honestly.
Don't say that. I want to believe in this. I really want us to communicate better. And yeah, it's easy to say that when I'm the first one hiding things from you.
Hiding things?
Marc… I got scared.
Scared of what?
I need to tell you something. I haven't been honest with you.
Not honest? You?
This is hard for me. I don't want you to laugh at me or think I'm naïve or uptight.
Why would I do that?
I'm a virgin.
What? What do you mean?
I mean… I've never slept with a guy.
Yes, that I know—thank you—but why are you saying this?
Because I'm a virgin. I've never had sex. I'm almost 21 and I must be the only girl on the whole campus who hasn't done it. There. I said it.
But… Stephane? Your weekend?
Stephane is a liar—we know that. And nothing happened on that weekend, obviously.
He never touched you?
No. Of course not. Never. I never wanted that. I liked him a lot, but I was never comfortable going further with him—and that was a problem for him, I know. One day—something I never told you—Stephane and I were supposed to go eat somewhere and then see a movie, but I decided to cook and stay in at my place.
Okay… and?
Let's just say he misunderstood my intentions and got carried away.
Keep going—because right now I'm afraid I'm understanding something I'm not going to like.
He laid me down on the couch and started being very… pushy.
Pushy? Pushy how?
He started touching me and undressing me when I didn't really want to, and I tried to push him away.
Oh no… not that…
No—I yelled, I pushed him away several times. He finally understood and I kicked him out. But I was really scared.
Cathy… why didn't you ever tell me?
It was when we weren't speaking, after the fight. I couldn't imagine calling you for help when you'd already done everything to protect me from that guy. And since you punched him for talking badly about me—if I'd told you that, you probably would've ended up in jail.
That's… not wrong. Yeah. Now I get it. Peter hinted at something one day and I didn't understand. He knew?
Yes. I called him right away. I couldn't stay alone—I was terrified. And at the same time he scolded me because I was blaming myself.
He was right. I'd have done the same. It wasn't your fault—you have nothing to feel guilty about. And I'm such an idiot for suggesting that sea weekend. You must've panicked. I hate that. But why didn't you tell me earlier?
How do you even bring that up? "Hey, by the way, I'm still a virgin—or did I mention that already? Anyway, want a drink?" You didn't do anything wrong. I was really happy about that idea. I really wanted to spend more time with you. I told myself I'd talk to you, but it just wouldn't come out. And the longer I waited, the more we'd already arrived at the house… and when it was time to go to bed, I panicked and found any excuse to stay up.
And me—I deliberately picked a place with two bedrooms so you wouldn't feel pressured and so things could happen naturally. On Sunday morning, seeing you had slept on the couch made me angry. I felt like you didn't trust me. Now I get it.
It's not you I didn't trust—it was myself. Now you know. It'll be easier.
So what if we decided to tell each other everything from now on?