washwords

*B* tells me they’re having troubles. Baby-making troubles.

B, the friend who spread out a blanket with me in the wet bluegreen grass outside our dorm room so we could have a slumber party under the stars (while our suitemates went clubbing). B, who when I broached the unspeakable … “divorce”, asked me earnestly, warmly “so what if you do?” allowing me to be okay in the eyes of at least one human.

Other friends said my voice changed whenever I talked to B. We’d listen to jazz in the dark or eat cheese and grapes or go for snowy walks. We’d joke that it was too bad we weren’t attracted to women – marrying each other would be so much simpler. But in truth, I was glad we weren’t; asexually,we were able to love each other so much more – more purely, more authentically.

So when she writes me out of the blue that she is hurting and fearful and ashamed, I tell her what I know to be true: that God is not punishing her, that as she so often told me that God has a plan, for her precious gifts too.

And B, my pastor friend, spiritual counselor, doctor of theology, says thanks.

I tell her I wish I could have a baby for her, because I am just not sure I want a baby of my own, full as my heart is with love for my niece and the kids in my life; I’m just surprisingly not sure it is for me any more.

She says her acupuncturist gave her a CD called “open your heart to a new life”

“And,” says B “I realized I wasn’t sure I wanted to open my heart to a new life.”

I say I understand. I do. But I hope she can and does. She has so many gifts in that heart.

S.P.* tells me hers is named Joe. He’s a kindergarten teacher who also loves animals and buys her jewelry, including the aquamarine ring I so admire. When Tiffani (AT) points out that Joe also should be the only kindergarten teacher with a six-figure income, S.P. explains that Joe is independently wealthy. “That’s how’s able to send his salary directly to charity.” To valuable women’s causes, I note. I also remind S.P. that Joe is gorgeous and very attentive and likes to spend most of his time admiring her. “Yes, and mostly he has a dog. He has to have a dog!” S.P proclaims.

Why not two I think? Imaginary dogs, like imaginary boyfriends, have lots of advantages over the real thing.

* All names (and initials!) have been changed of course. They know who they are. Well except for Joe. His name is real.