The other day in the break room,
my boss accidentally said the most profound thing.
After joking a bit about the serious lack of testosterone on our staff,
she looked at me and said:
"Courtney, we need to find you a man. You know, one of them guys that you can get all dressed up for and go have some drinks with."
(She herself prefers those of the female persuasion, but she still tries her hardest to keep her eyes open for those of us who don't.)
I laughed and told her thanks but no thanks.
"Eh." I said. "I'm thinking I may not be cut out for the relationship kind of thing right now. But I appreciate the thought." I looked down, hoping that the conversation would end and that I wouldn't have to expound with any more thoughts on the matter.
And then, with her hand on her khaki-clad hip,
she looked right at me and said:
"You know what I think? I think you are bound and determined to be one of them widows for the rest of your life."
I looked at her, slightly confused.
"Widow?" I asked. "But that would require me having lost a husband. Last I checked, I've never been married and I certainly haven't had a man die on me."
"Yeah, yeah." She said. "I know widow ain't the right word, but you lost that boy of yours and that's as good as death right there. I think you think that that's as close as you're gonna get. You just wanna wear black for the rest of your life." She paused as she leaned in towards me.
"And the way I see it, he must not of liked you that much, 'cuz he sure as hell ain't here now, is he?"
I stood there for a second,
uncertain if I felt like laughing or crying.
And then I realized she had a point.
A very good point.