Brown Bettie Knows Best
~ I may not be funny, but I sure know what is.
I sat at the edge of the Vltava river in Prague where
I live, sort of mourning a non-relationship relationship
that ended. The full moon hung in the distance as a
patch of lightening in the far off velvety sky flickered
and reminded us of things that exist in far off places.
Like missed family and friends and bills that need to
be paid and laundry to be done and stupid
elections.
I’d gone to the spot where he and I had hung out
and to the bar that served the beer he liked. Yes, I
secretly hoped that maybe he would be there, too.
You know, just there. Waiting for me. But what I
found was a plastic cup turned over and crushed
onto the tap signaling that the beer was…out.
Done. I took that as a sign. Done. Out. Over. I
switched gears and ordered a Pale Ale in my limited
Czech and sat myself down at the river. I sat alone
between other couples enjoying one another and
friends sharing wine. I took my shoes off and made
friends with the ducks swimming quietly in the
moonlit water. I resisted the urge to call a friend to
join me or play on Facebook to ward off the
healing feeling of feeling alone.
The non-relationship relationship ended with a text,
in Czech (thank you Google), that said he had too
many worries and troubles and didn’t want to
burden me with them. Ok. Fine. I can get down with
that. Whatever. As I sat at the river, with my legs
crossed over one another in what I like to call a
sultry-ish pretzel, I pulled my shoulders back and
simply let the balmy night smooth my forehead with
a gentle hand and tell me it was gonna be okay.
Later, at home, via Facebook messenger, I told my
girlfriend that it was over and I sort of said, “What
does it matter?” …I don’t like to feel too many
feelings or share this sort of thing with people live. She
knows this. That’s why I told her. She encouraged me
to go ahead and be bummed. Writing is my form of
being bummed.
What does it matter? I am on a journey. This is one
step closer to love, I told her. It will happen. I’m
moving on. Blah-blah. Luckily, I didn’t have to dig too
deep this time to remind myself of the amazing
woman I am. I do deserve someone my age that will
not ghost on me and not be afraid to share their
“worries and troubles” with me and not use them as
an excuse to not get closer. And ultimately, what
does it matter? It doesn’t. This blip is so minimal in the
scope of so many other things. The lightening in the
distance reminds us of this.
The other night, I had a lovely time at a friend’s
birthday party and enjoyed many, many cocktails. I
looked nice. I felt confident. I had on lipstick and
jeans that fit me. And heels! I was walking across
“my” bridge, over the Vltava river, towards home.
Alone. It was late. Very late. I’d done this many times
before. Suddenly, instinctively, I felt something. I
turned just in time to see and feel some man trying to
do something to me. I say “something” because I
don’t know what he wanted or why he was touching
me. What he was doing. I think he went for my purse.
I don’t know. What I do know is he put his hand
around my mouth and was holding onto me. I
screamed. I fought. I pushed him. I fell or he pushed