Tonight I went out to dinner with my ex- girlfriend Lorraine. We shared a delectable dinner of fried chicken and waffles; because really, what can be better than fried chicken to begin the celebratory season?
As we exited the restaurant, I asked Lorraine if I could hold her hand. Snow was lightly falling and the sidewalk was starting to feel a bit slippery. She looked at me like I was asking to hold her clitoris. Really Lorraine? Yikes! What to do now? Not wanting to take her hand but yet not wanting to slip and fall given my great tendency to do just that; I erred on the side of caution and took her reluctant hand in mine. She then proceeded to walk very quickly down the street, leaving me dragging behind like yesterday's laundry. I decided in that moment to let go of her hand, because even though there was a good chance that I might slip and fall on my bum, there was more dignity in bum falling then in holding someone's hand that did not want to be held.
PostScript:
I did not fall on my way back home. I held myself upright, walking slowly, buoyed in my belief that I, Katharine Angelina Love, am deserving of kindness and support; fervently hoping that 2016 will bring my bashert/ my person/ my wife, the one who will always extend her hand for me to hold. And so I pray, on this snowy Solstice night, that my wish shall somehow be heard and answered.
And, in the meantime, I will go tomorrow and buy myself a beautiful cane.
