76

Considering the debilitating nature of the condition, and the large number of reported cases, it’s surprising that no medical treatment had ever been available. Until now.

Dr. Highbrow rubbed his palms together and excitedly quoted Archimedes: “Eureka!”

He had it. The pill that would cure heartbreak. He held it up to the light and marveled at the green tablet with the inscribed smiley face. Then, he placed the pill on his tongue, took a swig of purified water from a beaker, and swallowed.

“Doctor,” he said aloud. “Heal thyself.”

It was twenty years earlier, when Bill Highbrow was working as a bartender at night, and finishing up his college degree during the day. Amanda walked in—alone—and he instantly knew she was The One. Amanda had shoulder length auburn hair, green eyes and a smile, well, indescribable. He mixed her a Bloody Aztec and engaged in small talk intermittently while helping other customers. She seemed receptive but Bill couldn’t really tell.

There were other people around her, men and women, but it was too confusing to tell who was with who. They all seemed friendly except for one rude drunk. Amanda could just be hanging out with friends. Bill hoped to become her significant other.

At the end of the evening, Amanda reluctantly gave Bill her phone number. She left with her arm around the waist of the rude drunk.

She never returned his phone calls and he suffered from a crippling heartbreak. Bill returned to school and didn’t leave until he had his MD. He was a doctor, but he had no patience for patients. He dedicated himself to research.

So, here he was two decades later healing his own wounded heart. If it worked.

Dr. Highbrow sat. The room spun around slowly, pleasantly. He smiled. He stood. He danced. He danced some more. He clapped his hands. He started singing.

He felt good.

Of course, that meant nothing. He couldn’t know he was cured without further testing. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his wallet and dialed the number. It rang and a woman answered.

“Amanda?” He asked.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“This is Bill?”

“Bill?”

“Bill Highbrow. From the bar. Twenty years ago.”

“Oh. Um, how are you?”

“Fine. Can you meet me at the bar? Tonight? At 10?”

Bill hung up. At 10pm he was at the bar. He spotted her. She looked lovely. She had a wedding ring. She was drinking. Bill sat at the next barstool.

“Come here often?” He asked.

“Every twenty years,” Amanda answered. “Like clockwork.”

“Yeah, it worked.” Bill mumbled.

“Worked?” said Amanda.

“I’m over you. I’ll pick up your drink. Then I’m heading home.”

“So soon?” Said Amanda. “I was hoping you’d stop by for a nightcap. Mark is traveling again.”

Bill paid the bartender.

“A tempting offer, Amanda. But too late.”

Bill left for home. Amanda wiped a tear.

Bill kicked back in an armchair, grabbed the remote and channel surfed. This was much better. He was done with love.