You May Already Be a Winner

I canceled a date last night. It wasn't even a date, but I was afraid it might become one. Or not become one, I'm not sure which. I told myself I was busy, that he wasn't my type, but there's more to it than that, of course.

I hardly ever think of her is the funny thing. Whole days go by and she doesn't even cross my mind. I've returned to male pronouns, thoughtlessly used, except not thoughtless at all-- conscious, deliberate. A reaction to a reaction, a mini-revolution led against myself. Mostly it's like it never happened at all.

And then yesterday, I thought I saw her. She was standing on the corner of Carroll and Main; reddish hair, bad posture, a certain crinkle around her eyes when she smiled. I felt this strange mix of elation and relief, and then something heavier than that. I thought about calling her: I saw someone who wasn't you. On the corner of Carroll and Main.

She didn't look like her at all is the stupid thing.