“Send it, Jessica. Just send it,” I tell myself. “What’s the worst that happens? You don’t have sex?”

That would be a tragedy. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had an orgasm that wasn’t self-induced.

I close my eyes, deciding to let fate take over, and press the general vicinity of the send button. Either it’ll go or it won’t, but I won’t have to see.

The whoosh sound plays, and my heart drops to my stomach.

It’s sent.

Now I have to wait for a reply.

This is why I avoided dating all these years. Nothing good comes of it. I never understood my friends who loved this part. The will-they or won’t-they part of the beginning of something. I hated it. Give me a man who will be like, “You, there, I will love you so all this time we’re going to spend together will matter.”

That sounds like a much better plan than this.

My phone pings, and I want to vomit as I open it.

Grayson: It means whatever we want it to mean.

I roll my eyes. That doesn’t help.

Me: That cleared it all up.

Grayson: What does it mean to you?

Now I want to throw myself out of my window. I don’t want to be vulnerable, damn it. I want him to be first to clarify so that, when I say what it means to me, I don’t feel stupid. However, I’m not sixteen and I’m a grown-up who needs to be honest.

I’m also quitting therapy because it’s making me deal with shit I’d rather not.

Me: It means a lot. It means that, even if we’re not telling people, I’ll know, and it matters to me.

I wait for those little dots to show up on the screen, letting me know he’s at least typing, but there’s nothing.

Great. I followed my stupid feelings and was honest, and look where it’s gotten me. I could’ve been having sex tonight. With a great guy who I could be naked with and would’ve left me very, very happy.

Now, I’m pacing because I went and listened to my shrink and tried to define what this is to keep myself from getting hurt.

I start to wonder if maybe I should text back and say I was just kidding and that I’m naked and waiting, but that seems ridiculous.

This is all so damn complicated. Why do I have to love this man? Why couldn’t it be Jack or someone I don’t have a past with who wants to meet up tonight?

The reason it’s not anyone else is because there is no one else. And that’s the saddest part of it all.