Gray’s anatomy, or If you’re thinkin’ about being my baby it don’t matter if you’re black or white
It used to be too soon to talk about my dates with Katie.
Now it’s too late.
But by previously mentioning her on my blog, I shot myself in the foot and now owe everyone an explanation. Well, no feet actually were shot. I mean, some feet somewhere may have been shot at some point. Like in the ‘hood or something. But my feet are fine. My heart has seen better days. Sort of. I mean, my heart can’t see. Because it doesn’t have eyes. My heart is blind, I guess. Like love. And Venetians. And Stevie Wonder, who has eyes but can’t see. I officially have no idea what I’m talking about.
So, it’s too late to tell you about my five practically perfect dates with Katie. And about how we share a fondness for Cole Porter and the subtle sexiness of words. And completely disagree on the edibleness of olives. And about the time we got lost while meandering in Mount Auburn Cemetery, and when it suddenly started to rain we took refuge under the most incredible tree with weepy branches, and then shared kisses and caresses in what was hands-down the most romantic moment of my life.
It’s too late because she broke up with me without warning last week.
At age 29, this is the first time I’ve ever been dumped. Probably because I don’t date much. This is probably why.
I’m not going to delve into details, but Katie claims we have one key difference. Let’s just say that she’s black, and I’m white. Except she’s not actually black. I’m white, though. But it would be totally OK if she were black. I’m not a racist. Don’t get me wrong – I *love* black people. But if one of us is black in this coupling, it’s not me, because I’m pretty much the whiter shade of pale Michael Jackson always dreamed of being. Wait. Is that racist? Shit.
As I was saying, Katie thought her black would be incompatible with my white. Kind of like reverse discrimination. For shame. Even though we’d never put it to the test. Even though Paul McCartney says that “ebony and ivory go together in perfect harmony.” Even though the cool thing about colors – and people – is that they have a profound capacity for compromise. And complementing. And blending. And together, there’s a chance we could have melded to make the most amazing gray ever.
It’s too early on to be heartbroken. But I’m not not heartbroken, either. I wasn’t in love with Katie, but I was looking forward to falling in love with her. I had just started to warm up to the idea of being “A little less alone … with cats,” as my friend Tom teased recently. And I think, ultimately, the split wasn’t about my stark whiteness or her bold black, but rather her fear of how great our gray might be.
Now we’ll never know.
There’s also a slight chance I scared her off by mentioning marriage during Date 3. But I was kidding. Possibly. Learn from my mistakes, you guys.
My friend Alexandria took me out over the weekend and got me soused on sangria, which I dispiritedly sucked down through a straw. This helped immensely. I don’t know what this says about me, but two other friends thought the best way to cheer me up was through gratuitous pussy jokes. Carol, calling from San Diego, said, “Hey, I know what will make you feel better. Imagine the word ‘VAGINA.’ Now change the letter G to N. That’s the name of the person I had to call the other day at work. Vanina. VA-FUCKING-NINA. I refused to say it. Even if she were born 100 years ago, vaginas were still called vaginas back then. Her parents have no excuse. Right? Right?”
Regarding Katie’s scaredycatness, my friend Sarah cracked, “Being a pussy does not bode well for the pussy!” Wise words.
My friends know me so well. I’m lucky to have them.
And in the meantime, in the absence of the gray I hoped I’d found, I’m also fortunate to have the companionship of the two best grays a girl could ever want.
(I love your comments, and they always mean *so* much to me. But if you leave one on this post, I ask that you please be respectful of my feelings, as well as Katie’s. I have nothing bad to say about her – except that bit about her hatred of white people – and neither should you. Let’s just concentrate on how awesome I am. As usual.)