(Romantic 3) "I wanted to get to know you."

"I kind of just wanted to...I don't know, talk?" You say. "But it seems that you're busy, so honestly I'll just--"

As you are talking she (almost eagerly) twists the phone back onto her ear and says, "hey, someone came by. It's important. I'll talk to you later."

There is a pause. Her expression whitens and seemingly turns to stone as an intense and rapid series of jitters come from the other end. Then she starts speaking. She gives a series of one-word answers to questions that you can't hear.

"No...yes...god, no. Christ, dad, please...okay, I'll talk to you later."

She hangs up, and opens the door for you. "Full on fucking knight in shining armor. Thank you."

You enter her room and suppress a laugh. On one side are a series of posters for girly anime with androgynous boys and kpop artists. Everything is pastel colored, and there are a lot of 'cute' weaboo ornaments that you might find at the Japanese-themed store in the mall. On the other side, the room seems like a grunge cave. With a series of black punk and metal posters giving the whole thing a dark allure. On the desk, there is jewelry hanging from the fingers of a skeleton hand, and what looks like a plant that is supposed to be dead. The transition between the two sides is immediate, with a visible line going through the middle of the back window.

She notices you staring. "We're very different people. We cut the room in half."

"It's kind of hilarious," you say.

"Right?" She walks over and sits on the right side of the room, at what is undeniably her desk. "So what's up?"

She seems to be asking with the expectation that something actually is up. That there is some reason that you'd come here to talk to her.

"I guess I just...felt like stopping by. I don't know. We're on each other's floor and I haven't stopped by yet."

"If you're trying to hook up, my roommate is just out for dinner, she'll--"

"No, no," you say. Still taken aback by how casually she'll say things like that. "I mean, I really do just want to talk."

"Oh," her lips purse and she seems to consider this carefully, almost as if it's a new concept to her.

"If you don't mind me asking," you say. "What was that about?"

She sighs. You almost walk it back, but then she goes on.

"It's fine. My dad called to ask how I was doing and then it became him pleading for me to come back home. Which is fucking ridiculous because it's not like there's anything other than a junior college back home."

"Clingy, much," you say, grimacing.

"Oh god, yes. You have no idea," she says. "It gets worse when your parents actually fought over you in court. Let me tell you. But it's fine."

Is it?

She changes the subject before you can comment on anything having to do with that. "So how's your first week been?"

You tell her about yoga, art, philosophy. She laughs out loud about Mister Janis and calls you a dumbass, and says 'yeah, sure' when you tell her that it's fine, really. You also tell her about the extracurricular activity you signed up for, and she frowns as if this disappoints her.

"Look," she says. "Something I've learned? Don't get more involved in anything than you have to. Just...like, fucking anything. It's going to be fun and games for you at first, but soon those people will be coming in and asking you to contribute more and more of your time and energy. Pretty soon it'll be all commitment, and no payoff."

"And you aren't really a fan of commitment?" you say.

"Hell no, why would anyone be? Like I could see if someone gave you something for committing, but it's practically defined as someone just wanting all that you have to give."

"What if there's no ulterior motive," you say. "What if you just want to commit?"

She leans back in her seat. "Well you're real fuckin weird, then. I mean, I'm sorry," the tension in her voice only increases. You can tell that you actually pricked something sensitive. "It's all an exchange, you know? Remember that movie, Holes? Back in the day they'd trade marriage for pigs. Or the other way around, brides would give their husbands dowries to choose them over the other women. The commitment itself isn't desirable. At least one side doesn't want it, so they have to bargain their way into it. I was watching this..." she stops to scratch her head, for a second. Ashamed. "Okay, don't judge me, I was watching this fucking tiktok where they were talking about how if a job tells you 'we're a family' they're basically manipulating you into accepting worse conditions. And that's the thing...when someone asks you to feel 'emotionally committed' to them, in any way, they're doing it so that you won't leave when you should. So that you won't dip when the red flags show up."

She goes on for a long time, but you let her finish. Once she does, there's a long, ensuing silence. Then she groans.

"Shit, man. I'm sorry. I...uh...that phone call. Maybe now isn't the right time. You can go, if you want."

"I mean, I don't want to," you say.

"Seriously?" she chuckles. "After that? Do you still think you're gonna get laid, here?"

You shrug. "You were pretty clear about that. I get your perspective, but it seems kind of rough."

"The truth's rough."

"Well what if it's only the truth some of the time?"

"Uh," she shakes her head. "Look, bro. Nothing is the truth some of the time."

"No, I mean," you look into her eyes intently before you continue. You make sure that she isn't looking away. "What if you just told someone: 'I am here to commit to you,' and you meant it. And the other person said in return: 'I am here to commit to you' and they meant it. What if you both totally meant it 100%?"

Her eyes now drift down from yours. She whispers something.

"What?" you ask.

"Sorry," a little louder. "What if they didn't mean it, but you thought they did? I mean, that's way more likely, right?"

"I don't know about more likely. But yeah, it is possible," you say. "I guess it's about courage, then."

Her cheeks puff out. "Yeah...courage..." she pauses and considers this. Then she says. "Look, my roommate's coming back, soon. I need to...I don't know, get myself back in order? First the phone call, now this..."

"I'm sorry, did I--"

"--No!" she interrupts you quickly as she stands up. "Look, Ryan, it's not your fault. It's just...I'm..." she breaks off. "Anyway, my roommate. I think it's time to head out."

"Well, I'm still sorry," you say as you get up, and she ushers you toward the door.

"No...hey," she says, once you're out the door, and she's on the other side. "Some advice for you, Ryan. I think you should like...meet a nice girl, here. Like a girl who will respond to that kind of stuff really well. Most girls do, y'know. Most are always looking for guys who will give that to them. So I think you're...a catch? God why is that the one word to come to my head, I'm so fucking sorry."

"Don't apologize for using a word," you say, laughing.

"No but...look, meet a nice girl, okay? Who will commit to you back. Do that."

You feel like there is an entire side of this conversation that you are missing, that is only going on inside of her own head.

"We weren't really talking about--" you start.

"I'm sorry Ryan," she says. "I'll talk to you later."

And then the door is closed in your face.

Was that...good? You're confused, because for a second, you honestly felt like it was. It definitely wasn't an argument. In fact, near the end, didn't she kind of compliment you?

You walk down the halls and can't help but notice that if her roommate is coming. It isn't for a while. You ponder what she said.

Meet a nice girl, okay?

But what if you don't want to? What if the girl you want isn't so 'nice' at all?