"Thank you all for your participation today," Robert said through his microphone, "Thank you for your patience once again for any technical difficulties we experienced today. I think the glitches we ran into, though, were great ways to exercise our tolerance of imperfection. I heard today that some of you have found maintaining your progress in conquering obsessiveness to be difficult during the pandemic restrictions. What's easy to forget, though, are the successes you have made. We often tend to overlook them, but I heard way more victories than defeats this week. I encourage everyone not to ignore those victories. I hope that until we meet again next week, you all continue to find ways to challenge yourselves and to say 'no' to that obsessive voice. Say 'yes' to getting out of your comfort zone. Until next time."
Robert waved goodbye at his webcam, and a number of people chimed in to say goodbye or simply waved back. As the virtual meeting closed on his laptop screen, Jordan picked up his phone to fire off a quick text to Angela, a fellow group attendee he had connected with when the group was still held in-person before the COVID-19 pandemic. If the pandemic had not struck, Jordan thinks he and Angela would have started dating officially. They got as far as almost, maybe, perhaps, fooling around together once after one of their group sessions. Or, maybe not. Jordan could never be sure. His anxiety always reminded him to doubt.
"Another good session," Jordan texted.
Jordan set his phone down and left his desk for his usual routine. He washed his hands for twenty seconds under the water and used his hand towel to dry between every finger. Then, he went about his room to make sure his picture frames and Marvel figurines were lined uniformly. Somehow, they never were in order even though he never touched them since he last inspected them. A buzz came from Jordan's phone. Angela had sent a reply.
"I can't take it anymore. My roommate is out for the night. She won't be back until Friday. Come over."
Jordan's heart bounced and there was tightness in his chest. He remembered back to the second session of group therapy where Robert spoke about psychical warning signs in the body. Jordan identified his signs as a racing heart, tightness in the chest, and sweaty feet. He wiggled his toes. Yup, his feet were sweaty. These were the warning signs that anxiety was coming on.
Robert's wise voice echoed in Jordan's head, "When you notice your warning signs, remember your coping skills."
Jordan breathed in through is nose and out through his mouth. He repeated the exercise a few times, and once he was calmer, he looked at his phone again at Angela's message. What should he do?
"Say 'yes'," Robert's voice echoed again.
Jordan slapped the side of his head.
"Get out of there, Robert!"
Jordan glanced at his phone again, and noticed Angela's smiling face in her profile picture. Surely, he couldn't say 'no' to that? With heavy thumbs, he punched in the three letters Y-E-S, and fired them off. Jordan scrambled to change out of his clothes. He hadn't worn presentable outdoor wear since the start of the pandemic. The warning signs were coming on as he swapped clothes. Jordan resorted to a raspy, interrupted breathing as he tried to inhale through the nose and exhale through his mouth while he wrestled with his clothes. He grabbed a medical mask from his pantry, which had turned into some type of apocalyptic bunker with supplies stacked to the ceiling, and shot towards his door.
"Do I need to bring anything else?" Jordan's anxiety voice asked.
Jordan reviewed the message from Angela again. No, she didn't ask for anything, but perhaps it would be polite to? What was the nature of this gathering?
"I can't take it anymore. My roommate is out for the night. She won't be back until Friday. Come over."
No, Jordan thought. Get your mind out of the gutter. That's not what she meant. Jordan analyzed the string of twenty words.
"I can't take it anymore."
That implies urgency, desire for something different.
"My roommate is out for the night."
Angela will be alone. WE will be alone. Angela sees this an opportunity. What would require us to be alone? Well, many things.
"She won't be back until Friday. Come over."
Today is Tuesday. That would mean at least three nights and two days where Angela, and I, could be alone. What would be the importance of making that known?
"Say 'yes'," Robert trilled.
Jordan pulled at his hair.
"Say 'yeeeeess'," Robert sang, "Conquer that obsession!"
Jordan ripped his front door open and took a confident step outside. He checked his left pocket for his phone, then his right pocket for his keys and wallet. The flustered young man checked that he locked his door twice before riding the elevator down to the main floor. Upon his exit of his condo building, he passed his hand under the hand sanitizer dispenser and received a dollop of the life-saving substance. That's when Jordan realized he forgot his portable bottle of hand sanitizer.
"Conquer obsessiveness!" Robert chimed relentlessly.
There was no time to turn back. The girl of his dreams was waiting for him and he must not delay. Jordan weaved through the near empty street, staying two meters away from anyone or anything that could be a deadly, disgusting Coronavirus carrier. Angela's condo building was but a 10-minute walk away, but to Jordan, the trek felt more like an expedition through hell itself. When he arrived at Angela's condo building, he felt another buzz in his pocket.
"Bring condoms." Read the text from Angela.
Well, that confirms it. Jordan's mind was right to be in the gutter. He promptly marched to the conveniently placed convenient store to the right of Angela's condo building and navigated to the family planning section. There was an assortment of sizes and shapes and flavors. There were a number of things to consider.
Another buzz came, "Are you on your way yet?"
There was no time for Jordan to consider the number of things he would have liked to consider. He picked the most plain looking box of condoms. Now to pay. Jordan slowly lifted his gaze towards the cashier far down at the end of the aisle. No self-checkout. Jordan dragged his feet and carried his body to the cashier, a young woman with bright red hair kneading some pink bubblegum between her teeth. She collected the box of condoms from his shaking hands and he presented his card to the scanner. Sweat emerged on Jordan's forehead as his purchase was being processed.
"Good luck Champ," the cashier said flatly.
