Phoebe
When it came to reasons her relationship wouldn’t work, she’d heard them all. The laundry list of supposed red flags ran long, including but not limited to:
She can’t love you back, you know
She only ever wants to see you late at night, and do you really want to be that kind of couple?
I don’t know, she’s so moody, it’s like she can be 7 different people
But well-meaning friends and thoughtful concerns had never swayed her before, and what sort of woman would she be if she let them now? Certainly not the type of woman who spent hours staring out her bay window, waiting impatiently for the Sun to slink away and her Moon to wake.
A small part of her worried each night that this, finally, was the night the Moon might not show. That tonight would be the night that ocean waves stopped crashing, that dusk came and went in pitch black. But invariably, the Moon would show its face and her fears would pass unrealized.
In a lot of ways, this was her most stable relationship. The Moon always made it by the end of her parties (unlike the last boyfriend, who’d skipped her 25th for what he claimed was a “work emergency”), always gave her space when she needed it (usually every 29.5 days or so), and really knew how to stick to a schedule (seriously, you could almost chart it out!). Plus, she’d always liked the idea of dating someone a bit older.
Sure, it’s not like they didn’t have their issues. Physical intimacy was definitely a struggle, and jealousy could drive a real wedge (“Do you still have feelings for him? Then why can’t you just get rid of that fucking flag?”). But those problems fade to dust each night, when the first beam of moonlight falls to the ground — saying “of course I’m here, when have I ever abandoned you?”.
She wonders why her friends don’t understand this, why they lecture her while clinging to their dull husbands and workaholic wives. She shakes her head when her brother brings home his girlfriend for Thanksgiving. She grimaces when she receives a note announcing her college roommate’s pregnancy. She looks on in pity as the people around her grow old, marry, fuck, hug, kiss. Then she waits for day to end, perched on her bed, biding time until the Moon’s return.