The Pottery Barn

Went to Birmingham with a new friend, D. I had lots of questions for her and she answered them all. I’ve never known anyone with her experiences before. It’s made me re-evaluate my ideas about good and evil. Also, I feel like I lost any credibility about complaining about my life. I ran into stumbling blocks today.

Details about myself that I wanted to mention but concerned the very mention of them would be a PDK (potential deal killer). I suppose everyone does that. “Is this person worth the effort it will take to put some part of myself out there and have it rejected? Nope. Not yet. I’ll wait until I know them better.” Of course when you reach that point it has become even more important to avoid the mention of a PDK. :) Hmm…I just realized it would be easier if I could touch her as I mentioned something personal. As if holding her hand would give me more insight into her reaction than just her body language and verbal response. I’d feel safer. Never realized that before. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard for me to say things to guy friends. I can’t touch them and read their response.

I continue to be struck by D’s posture and delicate movements. Mainly it’s her hands. Victorian hands. She doesn’t have the hard edged deliberateness or the bland empty gestures I expected.

“I grow old … I grow old …I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.” * Sometimes I feel young and naïve when talking with her. At other times I feel old in a way I wouldn’t feel if I was 29 instead of 30.

I find myself delighted in her company and disappointed when it’s over. It’s hard to remain aloof the more I get to know her.