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ME AND BOBBI©
by George Wilkerson


Coming Unstuck


Ed. Note: Bobbi, George, is sharing an internal conversation with us, and in effect, outting herself to the world. We think you'll find her (and his) point of view interesting

"How long have we known each other?" she asks.

"I don't know," I reply. "But I know I've known you a lot longer than you've known me."

She shakes her head. "I don't think so," she says, making me walk over to the mirror with her. "Not like this."

Bobbi
Bobbi
I stand still for a moment, looking her over. "No," I have to admit, watching as she lifts her slip and adjusts her garter. "You've come a long way."

"Yes, I have," she says, pulling the slip down and admiring herself. "I certainly have." She turns sideways and smoothes the skirt over her hips. "Have I put on weight?"

I laugh. "No. Have I?"

She shakes her finger at me. "You'd better not," she says. "Everything I have is a size 10 and I plan to keep it that way."

She's right about that. It seems that every time we eat she has to remind me. "Smaller servings, dear...easy on the beer...we don't really need that dessert, now, do we?"

She walks over to her closet and begins flipping through the blouses. "I don't have any summer skirts," she says. "Take me shopping."

"I took you shopping last week," I remind her. "I can't afford to take you shopping again. And besides, you never buy anything practical."

"Pardon me?" she says, putting her hands on her hips. "I'm extremely practical. I have an extremely practical streak and you know it. I get it from you."

"You get everything from me."

"Unfortunately, that's true. I have to depend on you for everything," she replies. "Maybe I should get a job. Then I'd have my own money and I could go shopping anytime I wanted to."

I shake my head and guide her away from the closet. "Can we get real for a moment?"

She sighs. "You know how much I hate that."

George
"I know." We sit down on the edge of the bed; I take her shoes off and I pull her feet up under me. "Like the movie says, reality bites. But we're stuck with it. Just like we're stuck with each other."

"You feel stuck with me?"

I nod. "Yes…and I know you don't like that. And you know I don't feel the way I used to about it. But sometimes I still feel stuck. I'm sorry."

She sighs again and reaches up to undo her stockings. "That's OK," she says. "I know you do your best. I don't mean to be so demanding."

I want to comfort her, but I can tell she's past that. She just needs to rest.

"Sometimes I forget, you know, how it used to be. I used to feel so trapped, but now…." She stands up and pulls the slip over her head. "I guess having a taste of freedom has made me want more, even if it's not very practical."

We hang up the slip and start to remove the bustier, reaching around her back to undo the snaps. "Nothing about you has ever been practical," I say. "But that's what I've come to appreciate about you. If it was all up to me, my life would be pretty boring."

"You can say that again," she says, laughing. "So how about we go shopping next week?"

I nod. "O.K. Next week. But we shop for a skirt you said you need a summer skirt.

"Thank you," she says softly. And, as I step over to the mirror to look at myself, slowly and softly, she slips away.

© 1997 George J. Wilkerson and Bobbi Wlliams. Unless otherwise specified, you may not reproduce the contents in any form without permission.


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