Monday, 19 May 2003 | Counselor

At a party, late Saturday night, standing at a closed bathroom door.
There was a couple next to me, talking, though I didn't notice them until he addressed me. I had never seen them before (in fact, I didn't know anyone there except for the people I came with), but suddenly he turned to me with a panicked look on his face and said, "She doesn't believe I'm sorry. What do I do?!" I paused for a second, absorbing the question, and responded, "Have you explained why you did what you did?" He turned back to her and pleaded some more, not really taking my advice, but saying "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it," over and over again.

Then he swiveled back toward me, still upset. "That didn't work," he said. "What do I do now?" His eyes were big with worry and the pitch of his voice sounded high. "Maybe you could explain how you know what you did was wrong, and how you won't do it again." He turned back to her and parroted my words. She stood there, saying nothing, seeming to almost watch with amusement as he got advice from this stranger waiting for the bathroom. She absorbed our interaction, listening to what I was telling him, but the two of us never made eye contact.

"What now?" he begged. "Tell her how you would've done it differently," I replied with assurance, trying not to repeat myself.

The bathroom door opened, and I slipped inside. When I emerged, he was ready for more advice. I can't remember how many rounds we went, but it seemed to go on for several minutes. I also can't remember my last piece of advice: Be sincere? Ask her to forgive you? But whatever I said inspired him to kneel down and apologize some more. A few seconds later, he stood up, looked at me with the same scared face, and quietly said, "Thank you. I think we're okay." Later, after retreating to my group, I glanced over and noticed them kissing.