Something funny happened to me at an Atlanta airport bar the other day that left me perplexed!
I have this lovely answer to folks that come up to the bar and ask me “is this seat taken?” I typically respond, “I’ve been worried about you and was saving this seat for you!” It’s an ice breaker for sure and this day was no different.
Her name is Wendy. She’s this cute woman with the cutest boots ever. And she proceeds to tell me about the goodness of Gringo boots. Have I mentioned that she was effervescent? She was married for seven years and they had two children. Her husband died and she carried on as a single Mom and years later she remarried and these are her words, “and then he changed on our wedding day.” She’s getting a divorce to make a long story story short and it’s not pretty. She’s on her way to Alaska to be with girlfriends. There’s another story but I stay focused.
She found out he was having an affair and there is the
She calls this person a “two bit whore!” I literally shudder when she utters this phrase. She asks about my story. I’m candid. I don’t hold back. Why should I? And I have to be honest here. I didn’t have quite the emotion that I once had way back in 1997.
I look at the time and believe I need to check out and head to my gate. I can’t remember how this happened but we put our hands together and promised to remember this moment forever and then she said this. I will paraphrase.
“You are way too nice to call “that person” Doo Dah. She’s a two bit whore. He was married and she knew it. She is a two bit whore.”
It’s strange that a connection happened so quickly and yet as I begin to think about it I don’t think it’s strange when talking about betrayal; that common ground is visceral.
I remember floating to the gate with that phrase running through my brain; over and over again.
“She knew he was married.”
Now let’s be honest. It’s been 25 years.
Why am I even thinking about this?
Why is this giving me a bit of a thrill?
I get to the gate and grab my journal and write it all down so I don’t forget this. And I continue to ask this question.
Is she a two bit whore?
And better yet, do I care?
And then why did I attract this into my life at this moment in my life?
And then I am talking with a friend sharing this story and she casually states,
“maybe you were what she needed at that moment.”
So I’m back to the title. Should I name her differently? I am choosing to keep Doo Dah! That’s who I am. It’s just that simple and quite frankly I don’t have time for Doo Dah anymore. I’m living my life and it’s good.
So where’s the sweet spot for me? I think it’s that I can be present with someone that is hurting, share my story and not have it take me down. In fact it uplifted me! The thrill was about being present with someone that was hurting and hopefully make a difference.
I love when someone comments about a sweet spot that I may have missed. I covet your thoughts.
Thank you Wendy and to the universe for bringing us together for that one small moment in time. It made a difference in my life.