Unhinged Land Grab Under the Table
Taking up space as a forty-year-old woman
He chooses the table. It was a small, half booth that only sat two people. He clocked in a 5"7, and I am 6" even at the end of the day. He sat with his legs open and his feet in my space. Noticing this, I did what I always do in a situation with a dude, especially on a date, I made myself smaller and took up less space.
But that wasn’t the only option; it was just the option I’ve been conditioned to. With my feet going numb because of the awkward position I had to keep them in, avoiding his, I started questioning my life choice around men.
My mother recently admitted to me that she is still waiting for my stepdad to change and become the person she wishes he was. She admitted that she waited for him to rescue her from her professional and money choices for twenty-eighth years. As much as I have not been raised with conventional values around relationships and dating, I am Cinaderal waiting for the prince to come and kiss me alive.
I had a prince charming, or at least I tried to mold him into that character arch. He was a nice man, and he was serving his country not so proudly, but I chose a man that was hollow and made of sand. Shortly after we said to death due us part, he began to accuse me of his biggest fear. I was going to stay married…
