Vignette
Before my company moved, I was greeted each morning as I entered the building by our long-time security guard, Calvin. Serious in tone and manner, the 20-odd-year resident enforcer intimidated the hell out of me with his curt nod and grunted "Mornin'."
Then, one Monday as I was walking into the sun-filled lobby through the revolving door, still groggy from too little sleep and too much weekend debauchery, Calvin stopped me.
You're a pretty young lady, you know. Why aren't you married?
Oh jebus, I thought, another one to hound be about my impending spinsterhood? I don't need this shit this morning.
Instead of voicing my opposition to his assumption that I should be married because I'm pretty or because my twenties are on the down-slope or because I have ovaries or whatever the hell his reasoning might have been, I bit my tongue and played along.
Oh, I don't know, Calvin. I guess I just haven't met the right guy.
His left hand snapped down to waist level, and, before I knew it, he'd pulled out his wallet. I've been married 25 years, he was saying as he showed me a picture of his wife. The way she was back then. Beautiful, vibrant, her eyes full of life.
I heard no joy in Calvin's voice when he spoke of his wife, saw no twinkle in his eye. Before me stood a man resigned.
6 comments:
One of these days I'm going to think of the perfect rejoinder to that question. I'm not there yet.
Yeah... let me know when you do! I'd love to have the perfect response.
Lately mine has been along the lines of... I won't consider marriage until it's a right afforded to every consenting adult in this country, no matter their sexual orientation. Which is true but doesn't quite encompass all my feelings or deliver the punch I'd like.
I just say that the last time I married somebody, it involved an Elvis impersonator and moving to South America.
Not only is it true, but it really shuts people up.
Wow. I'm totally jealous. (Is that odd??)
thats probably because his wife beat the crap out of him.
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