The Answer Waiting Room

I like instant gratification. I thrive on it. I like quickies and Netflix instant watch and pre-sliced veggies. I like things given to me when I want them, not on someone else’s time table. I like knowing the ending of a book before I open it, knowing if the guy gets the girl before I sit down to a movie and whether I’ll like what I ordered for dinner. Not to say I don’t like to try new things. I do. I love it. These new things are just usually at hand and ready, not something I need to wait for. This lifestyle works because I lived alone, am single, work alone and usually can make my own schedule. This need for instant pay off, the desire to have the answer yesterday, is something I nurture and despise at the same time.

The only time I do not mind waiting is when I’m sitting in a waiting room. I can patiently sit in a doctor’s office, at the post office, at the DMV, at an interview or a movie theater without expecting an answer. I even have patience if I wait and wait and then find out the meeting has been cancelled. I can’t control this change, so I just reschedule for a different time. It’s not a big deal. Made me think there should be a room in life where we go to wait, and the people we’re waiting to hear an answer from can meet us there and give it.

They would be called Answer Waiting Rooms and it would be wonderful.

The friend who stopped calling, stopped caring and just generally stopped being a friend to me would meet me there to give a reason. They would answer my questions. If they don’t show up? I get to move on. Because there’s a magic curtain I walk through as I’m leaving that makes it all okay. Makes me forget I wanted an answer at all.

The guy I’m waiting for knows that he has a certain amount of time to find me before the meeting is cancelled and I move on. And since I know that I can’t control whether he comes to the waiting room or not, if he misses the deadline I am free to move on. Walk through the curtain. No wondering “what if.” No imagining scenarios years in the future without anything to base the daydream on. If I’m ready for an answer and he’s not there to give it, I leave the waiting room and move on. What if it’s bad news? What if the guy I’ve been pining for walks into the room and says “no”? Well thank the gods! I have an answer! No more wondering. No more changing my life in expectation of something that isn’t going to come. No more “what if.” It would be glorious. Freedom to move on.

It would work in reverse too. I would get the chance to give answers. A letter comes to me, or a text, telling me to meet someone in their Answer Waiting Room. Telling me they need an answer from me and I have the choice to go or not. I would always go, because the frustration and the pain of not knowing is infinitely harder than dealing with the fall out of the truth. I would always go and would always be honest.

When my ex broke up with me I demanded he say the words. I knew it was over. I knew we were done and there was no going back. But I needed to hear it. I needed to hear the words come from his mouth that this was finished and there was no hope. I knew that if I didn’t hear those words from him in person I would spend too much time imagining a world where “This isn't going to work so I'm breaking up with you” means something else and there was still a chance. I knew that if I didn’t force him to do something painful I would waste more of my life in pain. It was exactly what I needed. I walked away from him with those words in my ears and my heart. I have replayed them in my head, reminding myself that the pain is real and the relationship is over. It was the loudest thought for weeks.

The Answer Waiting room is the safe place for life to happen. It’s filled with answers and conversations and reasons why, eliminating doubt and fear and frustration. “Do you like me as more than a friend?” “Why won’t you leave me alone?” “Why didn’t you call me?” “Do you see us going anywhere?” “Why wasn’t I enough for you?” It gives us all a jumping off point and allows us the freedom to move on and stop waiting.

Then one day we realize we don't need the AWR anymore. That we are enough, without knowing why. On that day we redecorate the room and use it as a home theater, invite our family and friends over and try take-away from the new Chinese place on the corner.