There’s no ringing in the changes

He has no black robes. Only brown shoes. My doggie mask is long forgotten around my chin. My hippie pants sag, I realise. Reality. Here we are.

The clever minds are looking at the sagging tits; fat little hands cradling coffee cups. And we wonder whether it’s worth it. But we don’t say it. We forge forth. I still marvel. Not at the brown shoes. First thing to go if you’re in my life, believe me. Just like I’ll sweep that mountain of pills off your bedside table and wean you off those god-awful saccharine sachets that your tremulous hand keep from landing in the coffee. Organising you already. That’s me.

I for the first 10 minutes watch your crossed arms hearing about the last four women that broke your heart. Read: “I am not ready for you, girl.” I don’t share much about the men who crossed my path and realised later: they just don’t matter anymore. The coffee shop owner apologises for our view of rubble at our tucked-away table.

“I’m building a wall tomorrow,” he tells me. “I haven’t noticed. I’ve been starring into his eyes.” We all laugh. And then the laughter flows. And our words. We find our common ground and more. Hypno-therapy, higher powers, family ties, funny childhoods, rural towns, no politics (but he’s not a small-town racist – I think). And we both uncross our arms.

He even swipes through pictures of all his heart-break hotel women. I show off my four kids… He pays for a massive glass of good red for me at high noon while he stays on the water and has to hobble off to the loo at least once (“Knee replacement in June. The 17th to be exact,” he tells me).

And I think to myself: did I say “short, fat, bipolar, depressed; I don’t care?” I don’t. Hard as it is for both of us to look past our older selves, hard as it is to “date” when we really, really just want to curl up comfortably all by ourselves, that comfort zone needs a shake-up and can’t become a friend zone. Ever. Tough. We must forge ahead. So why am I still waiting for my phone to ring? Get real.

Carine Hartman.

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