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