My father was devastated.
He tried to hide it, but I could see the disappointment in his face whenever his phone remained silent.
After the sixth woman stopped responding, he sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee that had gone cold.
“I don’t understand,” he said quietly.
I sat beside him.
“What don’t you understand, Dad?”
He stared at his phone.
“They all seemed happy. They laughed. They asked me questions. They told me they wanted to see me again. I thought I was doing everything right.”
He paused before adding something that broke my heart.
“Maybe I’ve forgotten how to be with someone.”
I reached for his hand.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You haven’t done anything wrong just because a few dates didn’t work out.”
He gave me a tired smile, but I knew my reassurance wasn’t enough.
Something about the situation bothered me.
I couldn’t prove that anything unusual was happening, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a part of the story I wasn’t seeing.
