Pure Slush

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Me, Myself, & You

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by Antony Scholefield

 

‘It’s not just the mirrors. But the way you can’t stop looking at yourself isn’t going to help in future relationships. You need to be less “you” and more “us.” I want you to have future relationships and be happy, Patrick. Remember that. Sophie.’

I tore the note in half. It had been Blu-Tacked to the front of my bedroom mirror for several weeks so I could reflect on it. Tonight, however, I planned to look into my Tinder account. Maybe somebody would look back.

I started to swipe, pausing every time I saw a profile picture taken in a bathroom mirror. My picture was a mirror selfie too, but unlike everybody else, I didn’t look at the camera to take the shot. My gaze stayed fixed on the mirror.

The written description for my profile was just answers to superficial questions. How old are you? Where do you live? What’s your job?

I remembered a recent party where somebody asked about my job.

“We’re in advertising and nursing, aren’t we?” Sophie had interjected.

I stopped. In this picture, the woman was looking into a hand mirror. She wasn’t pretending to check her makeup or hair. She was squarely meeting her own gaze.

We went on a date the next day. I spent two hours staring into her eyes. If I looked long enough, I could see a small convex reflection of myself.

She never stopped staring back.

The first time we went home together I showed her my bedroom mirror. When she moved in, she brought her own mirror, placing it on her side of the room. 

 

published 11 June 2016