I Dream of Jeannie

Trigger: Adult language featured in this story.



“I get it, you’re excited, but know this,” Tatiana paused as she considered how to relay her thoughts sans scorn, “no woman owes you a fantasy.”

Dan hadn’t fucked anyone for at least two years and in his mind separating from his wife was the equivalent of graduating from high school and holding out the summer before starting college. The agony of waiting for his divorce to come through felt endless, but the promise of moving away from home to embark on a sybaritic quest of poon and partying kept his days hopeful and his nights wet. In his mind, Tatiana was like his best friend’s older sister. A sophisticated junior who passionately discarded her modesty by participating in wet t-shirt contests, ménage à trois, and public girl-on-girl make out sessions. She was lust incarnate because she never succumbed to marriage or children. She was free. She was the fantasy.

He sat back in his chair and with a huff in his voice and a smile on his face, Dan replied, “Of course not.”

Tatiana was a former indie rocker cum law school graduate who wrestled with finding stability in her life. She’d been in love and even came close to marriage, but six years of playing house and three years of playing lawyer-to-be left her alone and drifting in the currents of the worst marketplace the country had seen in decades. The new world she graduated into was not the one she planned for and by the time she met Dan she was weary with experience. Her calloused psyche had space for compassion but not for bullshit.

“So, who should I be looking for?”

“Someone who is in the exact same position as you…. she’s your age, recently separated or divorced and has children in middle school.”

That was not the answer he was hoping to hear.

Tatiana continued, “I’m going to shed some major light on your situation and I say this with respect and love.” She held out her thumb and started to enumerate, “One, you’re not over your marriage. You think you are, but you’re not. You think fucking someone else is the answer, but it isn’t. You don’t want to go to therapy, but you should.” She extended her index finger, “Two, your self-esteem is shot. You haven’t had sex in at least two years, tell me if I’m wrong, and the last time you were single you had a full head of hair and played mid-field for an intramural soccer league.”

And just as she was about to raise her middle finger, Dan interrupted, “One, not true. Two, maybe, but I’ve got my shit together,” as he pointed to his off-road biking gear.

She raised her middle finger, “Well, here’s the doozy, number three… and let’s be real, Dan, these are your priorities. At the top of the list, your girls followed by your job, your ex-wife, your finances, furnishing your new apartment, that road trip with your buddies from back home, etc. That’s fair and like I said, I get it. That’s why you need to find someone who’s going to place you at the same priority level on their list. Somewhere between a mid-week dinner out and a bi-annual weekend getaway when the kids are with the ex.”

Dan met Tatiana two years ago in a café under the guise of networking. He never forgot what she wore that day. A black silk and lace chemise with army green rolled up chinos and black Converse sneakers. Who was this woman?

She never forgot how he leaned towards her when the subject shifted to history. She also never forgot how he failed to mention he was married and the father of twin girls.

They became friends over time, but it was no surprise to Tatiana when she received a call from Dan one night. He said, “Liz and I are separating. It’s hard but I think it’s mutual. I’ve wanted this for a while. We’ve been living separate lives. We sleep in separate bedrooms. We only come together for the girls.”

---

Elizabeth played her cards right. Where Tatiana failed, Elizabeth succeeded. Her career flourished, her two-year courtship led to marriage, and her marriage led to babies, a big house on the nice side of town, a landscaped yard, luxury cars in the driveway, Friday night meet ups with neighbors over Pinot, anniversary parties and family vacations to the Grand Canyon. Her life was perfect.

“What’s the issue, Liz?”

“I just can’t do it anymore. None of it is real.” Elizabeth’s voice trembled with frustration. She’d spent years keeping up appearances. Debt is real. Not wanting to touch your partner is real. Weight gain and piss stained mattresses are real. Wanting to scrap it all and start over in an alternate universe… maybe not so real, but man, she’d really thought about it.

Dan was so sick of this shit. “Real? You have everything you could have dreamed of… fuck me, Liz, what the hell else do you want from me?”

“From you?? What do I want from YOU?” Her hands started to shake. Everything she had ever bottled up started to rise to the surface. She didn’t care who heard her anymore, not the girls or the neighbors or the fucking dog. “I want YOU to change the sheets. I want YOU to discipline Chelsea and Claire. I want YOU to pay off your graduate school loans. I want YOU to stop smoking weed in the shed at night while you text that dumb bitch ‘friend’ of yours. I want YOU to stay home and deal with the book reports and last-minute art supply runs, the clogged toilets, and Mabel’s FUCKING inflamed anal glands while I go away on a work trip.”

---

Dan looked at Tatiana. “I think you know I find you attractive.”

Of course, she knew that. He’d been sniffing at the hem of her skirt from the day they met. But he did what most men do, he veiled his interest by pretending to be her friend. And damn it, she actually thought he was a friend. How stupid.

The painful truth that evaded Tatiana was that, despite her best efforts, she was not being clear. She wanted to be someone’s top priority because her self-esteem was shot and she never got over the loss of her first love. She wanted the house with the kids and the yard. Instead, she got hotel stays and infatuated declarations of love, first class tickets and dick pics, promises but no commitment.

“I don’t’ owe you a fantasy, Dan.”

----

Dan looked at Elizabeth. “I think you know this is all too much for me.”

“Is it, Dan? What were you expecting, I Dream of Jeannie? Your own little sex doll waiting for you at the door with a smile and a nightcap.”

“I give up, Liz. I give up.”

Dan loved Elizabeth, but the veneer of their marriage wore off years ago. He tried to get her attention. He even bought her a bike, but while he’d go off on a ride, she’d stay home to clean the kitchen. She stopped being fun. And yeah, he’d love nothing more than being met at the door by his wife in a genie costume and a scotch on the rocks.

“I guess I’m not fucking Jeannie.”

Elizabeth missed the way he used to look at her. She missed the way he would throw his arm around her naked waist and pull her back into bed on a Sunday morning. She missed the nights he’d stay up for her when she got home from her shift at the hospital. She missed the way he used to kiss her belly when she was pregnant. Instead, she got ‘working late’ phone calls and cold shoulders, Thanksgiving dinners in Ohio and sleeping in the basement guest room while Dan stayed up with his brothers, commitment but no affection.

“Well, you’re no Barbara Eden either.”