I pulled out a self-help book and started reading about manifesting abundance. Did you know that if you want a new job you should send good vibes to the unknown person who will replace you at your current job and let them know the position is opening? I was so busy picturing how to send vibes to someone I'd never met that I didn't hear Thomas' question until the second time he asked it.
"What are you reading? Is that a joke?"
"No. I'm trying to manifest good things in my life."
"Isn't your life already good?"
"Well, sure but — it could always be better."
Thomas didn't say anything. He just reached under his bed and retrieved a Playboy. He sprawled out on the bed next to me, held the magazine up and read adamantly. While I read about being totally open and receptive to a wonderful new work position there was an airbrushed pussy right in my face.
I knew he was trying to make me jealous, but I couldn't figure out why. As I resumed reading about how I should write out twenty times a day, "My income is constantly increasing," Thomas threw his Playboy to the ground.
"I should be the only thing that makes you happy. Why do you need that book?"
I was starting to realize that if you leave the wrong books lying around, a guy's not going to fuck you.
"Thomas, I'll have you know that I found you because I was open enough to have a relationship. That empty space in my closet? I'd cleared that out before we met in anticipation of a new relationship."
"So you cleaned your closet, and you think that's why we met? If you clean more of your closet, will another guy show up, and you'll go out with him too?"
"It's not like that. If you want, I can help you clean out your closet. You'd be surprised how your photography career will take off if you do that."
Thomas reached for his nightstand and pulled out an emergency cigarette. He was a sometimes-smoker. Between puffs he said, "I accept life as it is. It sucks. If you keep trying to improve yourself eventually you're going to want a better guy."
"Why do these books threaten you so much?"
Thomas rolled his eyes. "It's just that if we have kids I don't want them finding these books in our house."
I realized this was probably not the right time to tell Thomas that I don't even want to have kids.
I slept over but there was no morning sex — just quiet toothbrushing. An email from Thomas was waiting for me when I got to work. It simply said, "I'm sorry it had to end this way. Can you come and get your things tonight?" After work, I rushed over to the bookstore and bought a copy of Superfudge. I wrote an inscription inside the cover: "Thomas, use this as your self-help book. Get back to that inspired kid you once were."
I went to his apartment. I knocked. Thomas opened the door stone-faced. I handed him the book, and he softened in that way that recent exes do when they begin to miss you and reconsider. Then he read the inscription. "Who I once was? Stop trying to change me!" Thomas handed me back the book and slammed the door. I dumped Superfudge in the recycling bin outside.
A few weeks later I already had found myself a rebound boy. I took him back to my house. As we went into my bedroom, I panicked because I realized I'd left my self-help book by the bed. I was starting to realize that if you leave the wrong books lying around, a guy's not going to fuck you. But Rebound Boy picked up my self-help book and said, "I've read this book a million times. It's the reason I started keeping a diary!"
I immediately lost my boner. If Rebound Boy was going to talk about his feelings all the time who would I get to be? I realized how Thomas must have felt. They call it self-help for a reason — you've got to keep it to yourself. n°
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Jen Kirkman is a writer and comedian. She's appeared on numerous TV shows including Comedy Central's Premium Blend, NBC's Late Friday and Oxygen's Hey Monie! She also performs live at the Hollywood Improv, the Laugh Factory, the MBar and the Comedy Central Workspace. She lives in Los Angeles. Her first comedy album, Self Help, was released this year and is available at myspace.com/jenkirkman.
