My Girl

We’ve know one another a long time, DB and me. We met in high school, home room, day one. Over the course of the next four years we laughed, cried and danced together. DB was older by a year, yet we were in the same class. That first year we had nearly every class together. Many the second. By the third year we’d begun to separate. She went the way of Business Sciences, I went to Art. Still, we hung out as much as possible.

She was not an only daughter like me, but she was the ‘go-to’ daughter whenever her family had a crisis, which, like mine, was often. DB liked to forget her troubles by going drinking and dancing. She liked to take me with her. I couldn’t go much, because I couldn’t get out of the house as often. Besides, I was very shy and didn’t like being around a lot of people. DB helped me with my shyness, she was extremely gregarious and fun-loving. Unlike my friend Vee, who was more like a big sister (before becoming un-requited love interest), DB was a pal, one of the first, one of the best. She took me to my first bar. I was 16. We met a couple of Kenyans who, we found out later, wanted to get married. We chatted, drank a couple of rum and cokes, went to the ladies room and didn’t return. DB liked one of the Kenyans. He was cute, she kept saying later.

DB lived on what I thought was the edge back then. She was a regular at a few bars, she dated older men, at least one of whom was married. I was visiting DB one Saturday. We’d spent most of the afternoon playing tennis and cards. She decided she wanted to go visit her boyfriend, who’d been ill. We took a bus to his house. Rang the bell, was invited into a living room, where we saw two women of different generations and three children. DB announced the purpose of her visit and was led down a hall to I presume a bedroom. She returned in pretty short order. We left. DB quick stepped to the corner, where she stopped and screamed, "shit!" As it happens, the younger of the women, was the boyfriend’s wife.

After high school, DB and I went our separate ways. We did stay in touch via cards and letters, through some college, marriages, children and divorces. We are still in touch, mostly via email, even though she lives and works in Chicago, we don’t see each other often. When we do get together, it’s like 1976 all over again. We laugh about the past times we had and the times we have with our respective children and families.

For all intents and purposes, DB is my best friend. She certainly is my oldest friend. Yet, I haven’t been able to tell her about this past year. The full some of my past years. I haven’t been able to say to my girl friend that I am attracted to women and that I am pro-actively seeking to date persons of the female persuasion, towards the hopes of finding a steady girlfriend, partner.

I’ve wanted to tell her, have tried to tell. Since a recent promotion, she’s been extremely busy and hasn’t been as responsive to my emails and invites to lunch. So, my news is tabled, for now. Recently, the news has begun to burn a whole in my throat and I am resisting the urge to hire a sky-writer to pen the message among the clouds.

I really should tell my mother before I do that, though, I’m thinking.