The Discount Life: Expectation

It stands to reason that even after you’ve humbled yourself to public growth & enlightenment, you’ll still do something to show the world that despite all your learning and despite all your self-growth you still, unfortunately, share an IQ with Forrest Gump.


When I retold the story of Peter and the wine spilling to the DLA it didn’t sound nearly as mortifying as it had felt. Here’s how it happened: I lost my balance in gorgeous shoes, I spilled my wine down the front of his shirt, I cursed like a sailor and then repeatedly apologized for 1) cursing like a sailor and 2) spilling wine down the front of his white shirt.  He then replied, politely, with “It’s no big deal. Really”, and disappeared into the downstairs bathroom.

“Did he come back?” Mel asked, gripping her coffee with both hands. Mid-January had turned us all into icicles. She sat with her back to the coffee shop window, the world behind her covered in white snow.

“Eventually,” I said. “But it took him a while to get cleaned up. George gave him a shirt to wear. The rest of the night he was mismatched.” My company smirked and I pretended not to notice. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Agnes empty the contents of a silver flask into her coffee cup. I couldn’t help but smile at the irony of her discounting herself at a Discount Life meeting.

“Did he ask you out?” asked Lizzie, taking a bite out of her now customary DL bagel. She had cut her brown hair short and had started to wear contacts. I could see that she was beginning to transform herself, slowly, into a fashionable woman. She chewed her bagel like it was a symbol of her new found audacity.

“He said he would call to check up on me sometime.”

“And…”

I shook my head. No. “No call.”

“You terrified the man,” Tucker said, a giant grin spread across his cleanly shaven face. “You attacked him with red wine.” He was joking, it was obvious, but experience taught me his jokes were almost always a half truth. Still with a new job at the public library and a rather permanent place at the 17th Street shelter, Tucker seemed to be half truthing a lot less these days. He’d been officially sober since before Christmas.

“No matter, no matter. There’s always more where that came from,” said Agnes, reaching for her coffee cup. “I myself am thinking of adding husband number four to the litter. And if I can do it, so can a pretty thing like Chloe.” She drank from her cup like a swig and hit it on the table like a shot glass. “His names Coburn. James Coburn.”

We were all silent. It’s never fair to assume that someone is making a discount for themselves right off. If its true that truth is different for everyone, then perhaps Agnes was not discounting herself. But when you’re talking about a woman thriced divorced with a drinking problem and a propensity toward immediate gratification, its hard to ignore the gut instinct that tells you she is, most likely, discounting herself.

“Is he…is he really the one?” Mel asked, carefully, stirring her coffee with a spoon and avoiding Agnes’s eyes.

“Were any of them? No, probably not. But he’s a fine fella and its always nicer to share with someone than to be all alone.” Immediately, I pictured Christian. A piece of my heart sank at the thought of sitting on his couch, recounting the details of our day. His arm outstretched just enough for his hand to touch my leg. I missed him and then I reminded myself that I had did only what I had to do.  Missing him was natural.

“That’s bullshit,” Tucker said. “I’m alone. I’m fine.”

“You look at girly magazines every chance you get,” Agnes retorted.

“Maybe but I’m not marrying every Jane that crosses my path so I don’t have to be alone. And there’s plenty of ‘em. Trust me.” Agnes rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying you’d have a better chance of not discounting yourself if you’d wait for the actual right guy.”

“You’re always assuming that I’m discounting myself. How many times have I to tell you, I’m happy with my vices?” she asked.

“Then what the hell are you here for?” Tucker said.

“To play the devil’s advocate,” she replied. “My best form is no position. Besides my life isn’t bad. I’m happy. I’m rich. I have a nice man. Look at this one,” she lifted her hand toward me, “She’s alone. She’s the one that started this whole thing and she’s completely alone. So is it working?” The room went quiet. I noticed that Agnes’s cup was almost empty. I tried to temper my hurt with the acceptance that she was drinking. Her inhibitions and etiquette down. No one said a word.

“I don’t have to be alone,” I said, breaking the awkward silence for everyone. Mel smiled at me:  the proud smile of a person who walked side by side with you. My second set of footprints in the sand. “There was someone and he was amazing. But there’s just some stuff I still have to work out and I…”

“Did you run?” Agnes’s voice was short. Accusing. Harsh in a way I wasn’t used to from her.

“I mean…no. I just didn’t want to get too tangled up in him only to find out that I wasn’t ready.”

“So's you’re saying, you were afraid to have an expectation. What if he didn’t meet it and then you’d get hurt.”

“What?! No. What I’m saying is the Discount Life is not all about love and romance. It’s about finding yourself. Knowing yourself. Making sure that when you’re alone, you’re happy with who you are. Dysfunction attracts dysfunction. This whole thing is about observe and correct. Observe and correct until you’re functional and content and have your own worth regardless of others around you. Our goals lists?  They’re just small steps that help us get to greater happiness but if you’re always avoiding the work and filling yourself with immediate gratification you’ll never give yourself the chance to get to that place.”

“And does it say somewhere in that book of yours that you have to do it alone? Is everything that makes you happy immediate gratification?” Her lilting accent, normally cute and colloquial, was annoying me.

“No but…”

“And if you find something you like, really like, and then you pull away from it, isn’t that a discount in and of itself?”

“Depends on how “real” really is. I mean do you really love James Coburn or are you just afraid to be alone, cause that’s a major discount. I really care about this man and I don’t want to ruin things because I’m going through this searching…”

“What you mean is, it 'ed be too scary to expect something from him. To let him in all the way," she made quotation marks with her fingers as she said this,"...given the chance that he’ll get to know the real you and then decide to cut 'n run. What you mean is, you want to be the one in control.  The one to cut it off before it has a chance to bite you in the ass," which of course came out sounding like arse.

“Whoa there girls. Calm down now. Let’s not get ugly,” Tucker said, reaching his arm across the table and putting his hand on Agnes’s hand as if to say… Back off of her. You’re getting too close.

“I don’t know where you’re getting this…” I said.   But I didn’t say it with any strength. The room was quiet. The DL meeting had turned into a fight between me and Agnes, our company reduced to fidgeting with their hands and examining the wall paper for safety.

“I might marry every Tom, Dick and Steve that comes my way but I’m unafraid of love. I can get hurt and move on without crumblin’. I don’t have to be in control of my emotions every minute of the day. You’re running from the right one and chasing the wrong one because at least you know what you can expect from the wrong ones. At least you know how they’ll react and what they’ll do and you’ll be able to protect your wee bit of heart from being hurt by someone that really matters. You’ll also never have the chance to love all the way if you’re always choosin’ to protect yourself with less than your equal.”

“Pot calling kettle black!” I said more forcefully than I intended. “ You do?....Tom, Dick and Steve..they show you all the way love? And further more why is this whole thing becoming about love. What about all those goals we set for ourselves. When was the last time you inventoried yourself and even thought to touch one of those goals. You’re no better off just because you’re comfortable with wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

“Well that all depends now doesn’t it lovey? I once heard the greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return. I rather liked that. If it’s true, then the Discount Life really does come down to love. All those goals are just a way to help you, find you so you can find it and be happy.” I sighed heavily. Agnes should have been a lawyer. I was about to retort with my own 'but you have to give long term gratification a chance too' argument when the doors to the coffee shop opened and Andrew walked in.

“Perfect timing,” Agnes said, turning her body away from the door and facing me. She whispered, with some indignation I might add,“ I know you won’t be runnin’ from that one. Don’t need to, now do ya?”

“Sorry I’m late,” Andrew said, walking over to me and offering a hug. “Better late than never though, huh?” He pulled up a chair and squeezed between myself and Lizzie.

“Ahh, no. We wouldn’t expect any less,” Agnes said, smiling knowingly at me as she finished the last of her poisoned coffee.

“Yeah well, I thought I’d actually show up since I’ve been saying I would be around more.” He looked at me and smiled, tenderly, as if he had something to say but the timing wasn’t right.

The old familiar comfort of Andrew warmed my body and I said, “Thanks for making good on that promise.” But even as I said it Agnes’s words haunted me. Her performance as the devil’s advocate raised the bar on the DL to a whole new level.



Later, I curled up in bed and checked my goal’s list. In five short months I had done quite a lot. I’d started training for my first marathon. I’d taken cooking classes and learned to make some new dishes. I’d landed a place in a community orchestra where I played violin on a regular basis and I called my Mom and Dad every week, as stated. That was making progress on four of the ten goals on my list. Not bad, if I did say so myself. And I liked to think that the goals list was more than just a way to find true love. But - if Agnes’s rant held any truth, and I was pretty sure despite myself it did, then the whole of love and philosophy was connected. The human condition ever present. Had I made a mistake with Christian? Did I run or was I being smart? How esoteric that the answer to that question lies entirely in my own truth. Maybe there was no answer to be had.

But there was the fact that aside from some friendly text messaging we’d barely spoken since before the holidays. There was the fact that his skin once smelled faintly of vanilla, a scent I never wore. There was the fact that he was confident, exuberant and almost never alone. That without me he still had plenty of resources. And all that meant that he had the potential to see me all the way and leave me standing in my own shadow just the same. There was the fact that I could be severely hurt in the end. The outcome was not in my control. It was in his. So I had removed myself entirely from the circumstance instead of allowing myself to explore real emotions. And though it pained me I had to admit: Agnes was right. She was my opposite - running into love instead of away from it but essentially for all the same reasons. To avoid hurt. To avoid loss of control.  Maybe knowing and awknowledging all that - was the answer.

I scoured the list. I still had 'a trip to Scotland, a hike at Grandfather mountain [or sky diving], practicing new types of wellness and buying a skirt with a slit' to accomplish. The day had presented so much to think about. So much I could not resolve in one evening. But one look at that list reminded me there was something I could accomplish. A mini goal to redirect me toward goal oriented behavior:  Buy a skirt with a slit.

I packed my purse, grabbed my keys and headed for the nearest shopping mall.  Thankfully, more often than not, Bloomingdale’s -  Did. Hold. Answers.