From not@this.time (Rinus DeGier)

[First long bit of ASSC writing I've done in a while.
This is an email I sent recently to a dancer I know,
talking about a colleague of hers...  Somehow I think
the missing context will fill itself in...
RdG]

OK, kid, it was the lunch with our mutual pal today, 
and we covered some ground...

I gotta vent a bit.  I'll use you for my fair witness once more,
if ya don't mind too much.  And hell, you asked for a lunch report...
You ready for this?  Gonna make you a little sad, maybe,
but it's a step in the right direction for me, I think.
And this'll be the last in this line, I promise.

Well now I know for real, instead of just filling in the blanks,

... about the roommate/fiance/boyfriend type, just
    the fact of him, no details...
    And that I was right that the birthday and christmas trips 
    were/will be those meet-the-people things.

... that "he makes a good living, but not enough to support us both";
    says a lot; she's well into planning a life together.  

... that she considers me her best friend at all to do with work... 
    "including the dancers and that, really..."  [She said you've
    not been so close lately as ya were a while ago, seemed troubled
    by that.  Yer not around together much these days, I guess.]

... that she's felt bad about pretending with me.
    Said it's part of the job she hates, having to hide things...
    I said I understood a part of it would have to do with loyalty
    the other way, not talking about your partner with customers...
    Made it easy for her, kiddo, I did.

But back to the lunch report, blow-by-blow.   
First bits were conventional, little awkward as
you'd expect, she wondering what she was doing there,
big menus, lotsa choices, chat about work stuff and things.

So we chat, eat well, carry on, get a little more settled once
we're fed.  And then -she- asks, "So do you date much? I never hear
much about that..."  "You know," sez I, "you've never asked about
that, ever."  "Well, the club's not the place... but I wonder,
'cause you're attractive, got a lot going for you, and you're
the sweetest guy..."  And so I give her a bit of my story (I'll
spare ya), we talk about relationship things for a while.

So then off I go.   "How about you? How are those things going for you?"
She squirmed a bit, started out slow, with "Well, things are good, really."
And we talked about that, and how it must be tough sometimes
given the work, and other such things.  And she gets the idea 
that it's OK, she can talk, I won't lose it..  "You've probably 
guessed this already, but my roommate?... I'm seeing him."  And so on...

Know what?  I couldn't bring myself to do anything but help her out; 
it was hard for her to go even that far, after all this time,
so I let her know that I'd really sort of known for a while, 
that sometimes I'd sort of work backwards from how she
was acting to what was going on in her life...
Even went for a bit of "he's a lucky bugger" stuff.

That bit about my being her friend, she came up with that 
all by herself, no prompting.  Happy couple or no, kid, 
she is a bit lonely, livin' yer night-time existence, 
days to herself.  I could feel her being relieved and 
delighted that I took her little "confessions" well, 
hung in there as her friend, and all that.  

And the hell of it is, we had a nice time.  Got some lines
like "god, thank you for getting me out of the house" when we were
strolling around, just hanging out; like she'd
got the air cleared a bit, and so we could hang a little,
just talk and look at stuff and pass the time.  

And we wrapped it up with another big thanks from her, and from me, 
then she's sort of standing there on the street, almost holding
out her hand in the goodbye handshake gesture... I just 
gave her a big hug, and she returned it, and then it's "So will
I see you this week?  Thursday! That's your night."  [She's
been trying to have me on Thursdays cause Wednesdays have too
many of her regulars.]  "You know," sez I, "it may be a little 
different now, but not too different I hope..."  And she smiles,
sez yeah, and arms get squeezed, and I wandered off to my car
and sat down and listened to myself breathe for a few minutes.

Ah shit, Z.  Shit.  She's my friend, I think, maybe, now.  Shit.

I'll get used to that, maybe enjoy it...  
but for the moment, I think I'll have a beer, then maybe another, 
and get through the evening, and then see what happens tomorrow.
 
But if there's any proof needed that I do care about her,
this was it.   Hardest fucking thing I've ever done, staying
cool and even and sympathetic and supportive and being a friend;
but she needed that.   Ah, hell, I had a nice lunch, and she
listened to my stories too, and cared, and we laughed a little
and had a good time, and the sun was warm and it was a nice
cool autumn day, and fuck it all anyway.  I'm still standing,
and she's the one who coulda won the lottery, ya know, 
and she only had to have the sense to hold out her hand.
But I should've seen when and how to show her that.

Yer professor, numb...