“Hades had a bad reputation,” I agree. “The Underworld was assigned to him—he didn’t choose it. He didn’t torture the people who were sent to his realm. The furies were in charge of judging and punishing the guilty.”
“Didn’t he rape her and that’s why she became the goddess of the Underworld?”
“Nope. She willingly went to him and ate the pomegranate seeds.”
He gives me a questioning look. “Can you explain the relationship between eating fruit and her abduction?”
“The pomegranate is a symbol of life, regeneration, and marriage. That marked the indissolubility of their marriage.”
“Yet, she came back to Earth for two thirds of the year because Zeus made Hades reconsider what he had done,” he counters.
“You know your mythology, but everyone twists their story. My guess is that Demeter hated Hades. As a mother, it was easier to claim that Persephone was forced to be with him than admit to everyone that her daughter was the wife of Hades.”
“It’s possible,” he agrees. “You’re telling me that Demeter wanted to save face in front of Olympus and the Greeks?”
“I’m pretty sure the Greek gods wouldn’t use that term, but yes. Mom and I concurred that Hades and Persephone adored each other. She had a duty to the humans, and that’s why they had an arrangement. Marriage, just like every other relationship, is about finding a place where each individual is happy, so they can be happy together. He loved her so much that he agreed to be without her for a large part of the year. Between you and me, I’m pretty sure he came every night to visit her. They couldn’t stay apart from each other.”
“You’re a romantic,” he says as a matter of fact. “Yet, you are trying to find a partner through apps. Do you think Hades or Persephone would be using Tinder?”
“Dating apps are another way to find your other half. Plus, that’s part of my job,” I claim, while thinking about the answer to his question.
If Hades lived in our current time and he didn’t know Persephone… I’d take him. Who wouldn’t want a misunderstood Greek god?
“Hades would just go to bars and other places where he could hook up with some random woman. Persephone would be doing her godly tasks, dating random guys, because she believes in love,” I explain to him.
“So, if they were living in modern times, they wouldn’t be together—ever,” he guesses.
I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure he would find her because they are meant to be together.”
“Then why use all those applications to search for your Hades? Shouldn’t you be waiting for him to find you?” he asks with a chuckle.
I scratch my ear. It’s a tick I have when I feel uncomfortable.
“It’s complicated, and obviously, love doesn’t work the same for everyone,” I answer. “While some couples find each other when they are in grade school, high school, college or while they’re growing up, others aren’t as lucky. You can’t just sit down and wait for life to happen to you.”
“You are confusing me. So, I don’t get the answer as to why you are using apps,” he calls me on my bullshit.
“In a few words, I have to find a guy and write a book where I give advice to my readers on how to make that dream come true.”
“Sounds like you are telling them that there is more than just love and you actually don’t believe that love is in the cards for you.”
“There is,” I respond. “You make your own happiness. I guess this is why I’m so off lately. The whole concept of putting all my energy into finding a guy is exhausting, and I haven’t even started.”
“What makes it exhausting? It should be easy to just go to a bar and find some Joe Schmoe, kiss him, and see if he’s your prince.”
I laugh. “Some men don’t have a funny bone in their bodies. You don’t have a romantic cell in yours—not even a one.”
“If you need a wingman, I’ll be there to spot you,” he says, winking at me. “I have a loser radar.”
“Bars aren’t the best place to meet a guy,” I explain. “At least, not the kind of guy I want to date.”
“Right, you’re looking for marriage,” he says, snapping his fingers. “We can fly to Vegas. I’ll find you a good, yet, very drunk candidate who’ll say I do without any problems.”
“Har, har.” I stare at him blankly.
“I’m trying to be proactive,” he defends himself, but that stupid lingering smile on his lips says a different story.
“Now you’re just making fun of me. It’s not about marrying the guy but finding someone who I can talk to for hours about important subjects, my random thoughts, or just share something silly that I read online. Companionship, love, and good sex.”
He gives me an incredulous look. “That’s a sweet fantasy. I hope you at least find one of them. I’m sure there is someone out there who won’t mind your…”
His eyes look at me from head to toe at least twice.
“My what?” I ask, aggravated.
“Your colorful personality and unorthodox thoughts.”
Why is it that this guy makes me feel inadequate and self-conscious about myself? He points out things about me without holding anything back.
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“I never said that,” he defends himself.
“You are always criticizing me, when I’m just trying to be nice to you.”
His jaw twitches, and his body stiffens.
“Listen, you seem like a very nice person. Just because we live next to each other, that doesn’t mean I have to like you,” he says upfront. “Maybe there’s a hoard of people who want to hang out with you—not me. I make it a rule not to socialize. It’s not personal. Maybe that’s your problem.”
“What is my problem, according to this nonsense?”
“Actually, you have two,” he amends. “One, you want everyone to like you.”
“Then you really have no idea who I am,” I tell him, upset.
“Second, you are two different people,” he continues. “There’s the woman who is always smiling at the camera, posing for everyone to see her. Then, there’s the woman who doesn’t wear much makeup, likes to walk barefoot and dances to weird music. Guys fall for the first one, but when the other one appears, they leave because they can’t deal with the real deal.”
I hold my breath for a couple of seconds while I process his words. “What is wrong with the real deal?”
“Nothing, I’m pretty sure you are a lovely woman. No one is asking you to apologize for being you,” he says honestly. “Think about Demeter, she didn’t want the people to know the truth about her daughter. Maybe even Persephone wanted to hide her real feelings for Hades. Perhaps, you are not much different from your namesake, and you are hiding a lot about yourself. You blame those guys for liking only the surface, but have you ever shown anyone what is underneath it?”
Chapter Fifteen
Tuesday, June 23rd
Lang: I take it that you learned your lesson and stopped drunk texting.
Joy: I only partake in such activity during holidays and the odd weekend.
Lang: Should I wait until the Fourth of July, then?
Joy: Not to be rude, but why are you drinking and decided to text me?
Lang: I didn’t know drinking was a rule to text each other.
Joy: It’s not, but since we haven’t chatted to each other I thought… Never mind.
Lang: That I wasn’t going to text you again?
Joy: Something like that.
Lang: You could’ve texted me. Though, I was busy with work.
Joy: Ah-hah! So, we know you work.
Lang: I do. How about you?
Joy: Yes, I have one of those things. It’s not a 9-5 office job, but I work—a lot.
Lang: How’s the search for the perfect guy going?
Joy: Not as great as I thought. I have a date this weekend—blind date.
Lang: Blind dates are a bad idea. You should try to meet someone instead of
leaving it to someone else’s fate.
Joy: Where do you think is the best place to meet a guy?
Lang: The frozen aisle?
Joy: Of the grocery store?
Joy: Why?
Lang: If he is holding a list, he’s in a relationship. If he’s picking up ice cream, he lives with his partner or his parents. If he’s grabbing frozen entrees, he might be interesting—and alone.
Joy: What if he’s picking up frozen veggies?
Lang: Why would he do that? If he eats vegetables, he buys them in the produce aisle, not the freezer.
Joy: I don’t think stalking men in the freezer aisle is going to get me a date. Is that how you hook up? By talking to random chicks at the grocery store?
Lang: Not always.
Joy: I want something more serious than a freezer hookup.
Lang: Is it because wedding season is approaching?
Joy: What?
Lang: The reason why you are trying to find a date.
Joy: I forgot it’s wedding season. I guess no one invited me to a wedding—or all my friends are already married. Do I have to have an explanation to why I want to date?
Lang: No, but your question sounds desperate.
Joy: It is hard to date, and for me, it is even harder. Men don’t see me for who I am. Do you think it’s me?
Lang: The last sentence feels like a trap. Can I point out that I don’t know you and can’t have an opinion?
Joy: You get a pass.
Lang: Phew. I thought this was over before it started.
Joy: …
Lang: Did I say something wrong?
Joy: No, but start of what?
Lang: Of a beautiful friendship?
Joy: Casablanca.
Lang: Yes.
Joy: You like old movies?
Lang: Old, new … all kinds of movies. My grandfather was in the film industry back in the sixties. It became a family hobby to watch movies, and sometimes, we answer questions with quotes.
Joy: That sounds like a fun quirk.
Lang: It’s like an inside joke, so not many get it.
Joy: But that’s what makes your family special. Mine is pretty quirky—not many can survive us.
Lang: As long as you have each other, that’s all that matters.
Joy: That’s true. I don’t know what I’d do without them. They get me, you know?
Lang: As long as your circle understands you, the rest don’t matter at all.
Joy: …
Lang: Did I say something wrong because those dots keep dancing.
Joy: No, I just … I had a similar conversation not long ago. See, there is this guy who makes me feel inadequate. It’s as if he has a mirror that he uses to show me everything that is wrong with me.
Lang: Then, he’s not the guy for you.
Joy: Funny that you mention it, I don’t want to date him. He’s not my type—he’s hot, but not my type. Just… what he says always resonates in my head for hours—or days. Like he can see what others refuse to look at—or I choose to hide.
Lang: Still trying to find yourself and relying on what others think?
Joy: No, but… Never mind.
Lang: What do you think is wrong with your current appearance, or is it something different?
Joy: It’s not about looks. It’s complicated. My work interferes with my personal life.
Lang: Find a new career? The average American switches careers at least twice in a lifetime.
Joy: :glare emoji:
Lang: I don’t know how to interpret that emoji.
Joy: I don’t know how to interpret that comment.
Lang: What is it that you do?
Joy: Listen, I like you enough, but for several reasons, I think we should limit the amount of information we share. What if you are a creepo? What if I am a creepo? Maybe we should stop texting.
Lang: I’ll take my chances with you. We don’t share information, but let me tell you something, if men are threatened by your success, then they aren’t worthy of you. I hope this helps. And don’t look for a guy at the grocery store—or at a bar.
Joy: I don’t grocery shop that much, and I’ll be avoiding going to bars for at least six to ten weeks.
Lang: So, you’ve mastered the art of takeout?
Joy: I do get takeout often. My parents have this farm to home delivery system, and we all pay for it. It helps the local economy, and you get fresh, organic produce and protein.
Lang: Sounds a little hippy.
Joy: You have no idea. My parents are peculiar.
Lang: Why are you avoiding bars?
Joy: I got too drunk, and here we are…
Lang: It’s all good. You made a new acquaintance, soon-to-be friend.
Joy: True. Speaking of my family, I need to go. Tonight, I’m having dinner with the parents.
Lang: Do you need me to save you from their clutches? I owe you one.
Joy: No, but thank you for the offer.
Lang: Just text twice if you need saving :wink emoji:
Joy: I didn’t know we were on that stage of our friendship :wink emoji:
Sixteen
Podcast Week 3 Season 3
Wednesday, June 24th
“Hello, all you beautiful people. I’m Persy, and this is Life with Persy. Each week, I’m answering your questions about your relationships with your cat, your significant other, your parents, your siblings, and your roommate, to name a few.
“Need to get along with a nosey neighbor from hell? There’s always a solution.
“Does that cute guy from Tinder come with more baggage than you bargained for? We’ll talk it up and dish it out here.
“I’ll offer advice, tactics, and tools that you can use in your daily life to create your own slice of happiness.
“Just a reminder, this podcast is not suited for work, but you can play it almost everywhere else on your favorite podcast listening devices.
“This week we’ll be covering how to make a man fall in love with you, emails from our listeners, and the clit stimulator that will make you want to stay at home, so stick around.
“As some of you know, I have a great relationship with my dad and my brother. They are the best and super understanding. This weekend, I asked them to explain to me more about their species. There’s a lot of truth about male and female brains behaving and reacting differently.
“A lot of my female listeners have been requesting tips on how to understand men and make sure they fall in love with them.
“My dad is an archeologist. He’s been studying human behavior from the caveman era to the modern day, and he gave me some tips that you might find helpful. Are you ready for Almost Ten Tips to Make Sure a Man Falls in Love with You?
“Your actions are a huge factor, so be ready to work hard. Wait, before I get started, remember what I say: every relationship needs work, but if you are the only one doing the work, then it’s not worth it.
“Number one and most important is making him feel safe to create a bond between the two of you. Sharing matters, but when he is sharing something intimate and personal, you have to listen without interruption. Always listen and make him feel like his vulnerability matters. You need to make him feel good about himself when he is with you. A man will stick around a woman when he feels like his life is better when she is around.”
“I object on the grounds that the information is outdated!” One day Chad’s voice won’t make me jump out of my seat.
“You can’t interrupt me in the middle of a recording,” I mumble and stop recording. “Actually, you can’t disturb me whenever you feel it fitting.”
“You are lying to your listeners.”
“Dad helped me with these points,” I defend myself, glancing at the list.
“Permission to approach the bench?” The very ridiculously hot and infuriating man requests.
“First of all, this isn’t a courtroom, and second, what do you mean with approaching?”
“Open the door, so I ca
n join you, and we can go through your ‘almost ten,’” he pauses, as he makes air quotes with his fingers, “tips—and I can fix them.”
“Fix what?” I stare at him, confused by his suggestion of coming over to my place and distracted by his bare chest.
“As a journalist and a psychologist, it is your job to give accurate information to your listeners,” he answers with a serious voice. “So far, everything you’ve said is wrong. You don’t get a man to fall in love with you by making him feel vulnerable.”
“Says the man whose heart is dead,” I declare, but still, I go to the kitchen for the key that opens the forbidden door and let him inside. “Do you want me to believe that you are willing to help me?”
“Maybe I’m Hades,” he says, throwing a wink-smirk combo my way. “You just haven’t dug deep inside my dark soul and found some kindness.”
I laugh, and he smiles back, and when he does that, my heart skips a couple of beats. Which is something I ignore, because he is off limits and, anyway, who wants to get mixed up with a guy like him? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying he is a bad person. He just doesn’t want what I’m looking for—a relationship.
Repeating the same thing over and over again without learning is just being plain stupid. One thing I’ve grasped about my exes is that they only want to have fun. They don’t want anything serious, and this guy wouldn’t be any different.
“Not to pressure you, but I have to finish recording soon if I want to upload it before five o’clock,” I groan. “I can’t believe you had the audacity to interrupt me. Do you know how long it’s going to take me to edit that?”
“You can always keep my voice and call me ‘the mysterious neighbor from hell,’” he gives me an unamused glance. “That’s what you call me when you’re on the phone with your family.”
“We have to work on your eavesdropping habit,” I complain, and walk to the table where I have the list I made with Dad.
“The next one is to let him feel masculine,” I say, turning on the recording and taking a seat.
He laughs. “What does that even mean?” He hits his pectorals with his fists and yells like Tarzan.
“So far, I’m not amused by your input.”
Wrong Text, Right Love Page 10