In conversation with my new lover about my previous lover…
“He called you ‘Truth’, that was his code word for you," he said, "‘Truth.’”
“That’s so sad,” I said. “I stopped telling him the truth a long time ago.”
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These are the fast and dirty ramblings of a woman who is barreling straight into her middle age. These writings come from the middle of her life, not a particularly bad time either. She’s not freaked out. She doesn’t sit on the couch all day watching soaps and fantasizing about a life completely out of reach.
4 comments:
So strange. I can never see it happening. When, I ask myself. When did I stop telling the truth? And I can never see. The beginning of it seems always to be hidden. It's something I only discover later, with a sense of "discovering" something I've known all along. Was I really telling the truth before, I wonder? Or was it just that before, the concealments didn't seem to matter?
dale,
i like what you wrote above. I also love the phrase, "versions of the truth." What is that? Is that like a little bit of lying mixed in with some truth for good measure? Is it like being a little bit pregnant? This topic warrants much discussion. Thank you.
Ouch. That gutted me -- and I needed it; thank you.
so you got a new lover?
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