Diner
Yesterday, on my way in to work to check my email, I ran into an old man who has stopped me to talk outside a diner several times since I started my new job. I believe his name is Bob because every old man I meet (and I meet a lot...what does that say about me?) is named Bob. He has always asked me to stop in the diner for a cup of coffee and I've always made an excuse. Today, though, I went. Bob seemed happy to see me and promptly ordered me a cup of coffee that was more cream than coffee. Predictably, the questions about my singleness started almost immediately...
"You're not married? A pretty girl like you? You got a boyfriend?"
Well, Bob, it's complicated. You see, I WAS married, back when I was really young...he was an ass and I left him, but all he can hold onto is a picture of me that's distorted and horrible. I remember him fondly, at times, despite the time he kicked in a door on me, despite the fact that he told me I was crazy, despite the fact that he said my friends didn't love me, despite the horrible daily assurances that I would be nothing without him. All he can see me as is "The Bitch who left me." I had to leave the state to escape the horrible, thudding pain of knowing he was nearby, just hating me. Since then, I've had a series of forgettable relationships, most of them primarily physical. Do I have a boyfriend, Bob? Well, that's also a hard question. If you spend all of your time thinking about the blue-green tattoo on someone's upper arm and how his voice rasped and caught as he screamed your name once, if you keep your nights and weekends free just so that you can casually say to him "I'm not doing anything right now, wanna come over?" when he calls, if your heart races when you see his name in your email inbox, does that mean he's your boyfriend? Bob, what if he says he never wants to get married? What do you do then? Do you call him your boyfriend then? What if you wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and crying because you don't know who in the wide world will stand by you when you're called home because your mother has forgotten where she lives and is wandering around town in her slippers or when your father's eyesight finally goes completely and he needs you to help him read his prescription bottles? What do you do when you're so desperately afraid that no one will care for you when you're going to have to care for others? Do you call him your boyfriend THEN, Bob? In the vain hope that he'll still be around when a call comes at 3am on a Tuesday from a stranger who says "It's about your mother..." Is he my boyfriend THEN?
What I said was "I'm seeing a couple of people."
I just wish one of those people I was seeing was me.
"You're not married? A pretty girl like you? You got a boyfriend?"
Well, Bob, it's complicated. You see, I WAS married, back when I was really young...he was an ass and I left him, but all he can hold onto is a picture of me that's distorted and horrible. I remember him fondly, at times, despite the time he kicked in a door on me, despite the fact that he told me I was crazy, despite the fact that he said my friends didn't love me, despite the horrible daily assurances that I would be nothing without him. All he can see me as is "The Bitch who left me." I had to leave the state to escape the horrible, thudding pain of knowing he was nearby, just hating me. Since then, I've had a series of forgettable relationships, most of them primarily physical. Do I have a boyfriend, Bob? Well, that's also a hard question. If you spend all of your time thinking about the blue-green tattoo on someone's upper arm and how his voice rasped and caught as he screamed your name once, if you keep your nights and weekends free just so that you can casually say to him "I'm not doing anything right now, wanna come over?" when he calls, if your heart races when you see his name in your email inbox, does that mean he's your boyfriend? Bob, what if he says he never wants to get married? What do you do then? Do you call him your boyfriend then? What if you wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and crying because you don't know who in the wide world will stand by you when you're called home because your mother has forgotten where she lives and is wandering around town in her slippers or when your father's eyesight finally goes completely and he needs you to help him read his prescription bottles? What do you do when you're so desperately afraid that no one will care for you when you're going to have to care for others? Do you call him your boyfriend THEN, Bob? In the vain hope that he'll still be around when a call comes at 3am on a Tuesday from a stranger who says "It's about your mother..." Is he my boyfriend THEN?
What I said was "I'm seeing a couple of people."
I just wish one of those people I was seeing was me.
posted by Unknown at 3:16 PM
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