Monday, November 13, 2006
Edy (Pt.3)
So my attempts to date this woman Edy end up going nowhere. I am left wondering why my current lover Gerrie made that comment, "You could have her if you wanted her" sort of thing. Because it wasn't true. Maybe she was miffed and decided to get back at me for having flirted with Edy in the girlie bar. Maybe she said it knowing full well I would work up a good head of steam going after Edy. And all for naught. I don't think Edy was ever really interested. Women often give out vibes of touchy-feely when they haven't any intention at all of going there. Beats me.
It took me a while to back away from her though. Until that point arrived, I spent lots of nights in the bar hoping to speak to Edy again. I noticed most of the other women paid me no heed. I was puzzled about that, and when I inquired of one older woman that I sort of knew she replied, "Well they think you're not really a lesbian," she said. "They think you go out with men."
Hrumph. My secret was out. I identified myself as a girlie girl back then, but along the way I realized that it was more likely to be men that I had sex with. Women were just too much trouble, even way back then. Like it or not, my love life was settling in to something I could more easily manage to do. That did not seem to include a lot of women. These women in the bar picked up on that, obviously.
They were all somewhat cool to me. Some of them even made jokes about the People's Park riots going on in Berkeley back then. "Awwwh, poor girl, they took away your park," I would hear. Or some such thing. Dykes can be really snotty, and very inbred. Thank God I liked playing pool, because otherwise there was just no point in my being there.
Eventually I wandered away from the bar, I finished school and started working in hospitals. One night on my swing shift I happened to read the local newspaper, and that was when I found out what happened to Edy.
Do you know how you can pick up a newspaper and casually scan it and then for some reason your eye falls on something, something rather obscure, and you suddenly recognize a name? I have had that experience several times already in my life, and it is scary in its uncanniness.
My eye fell on a small news story tucked away on an inside page. About a robbery attempt and a shooting in a local bar. I was horrified. It was all about Edy. Edy was dead. Several guys came into the bar, probably knowing it was a dyke bar, and tried to rob the place. Edy tried to grab the gun away from one of the guys and it went off, mortally wounding her. She was brought to Highland Hospital, where I worked. Thank God I was not on duty that night. I might have had to go over and do admitting papers on her.
But Edy did not make it. She died in the O.R. You were so hot-tempered, I thought, what are you doing trying to grab a gun away from a guy bent on robbing you? I thought of her little boy. Who was going to raise him. I thought of Betty, the bar owner. No longer Edy's lover but the pain must have been great for her.
I put the paper down and burst into tears.
- - - - -
It took me a while to back away from her though. Until that point arrived, I spent lots of nights in the bar hoping to speak to Edy again. I noticed most of the other women paid me no heed. I was puzzled about that, and when I inquired of one older woman that I sort of knew she replied, "Well they think you're not really a lesbian," she said. "They think you go out with men."
Hrumph. My secret was out. I identified myself as a girlie girl back then, but along the way I realized that it was more likely to be men that I had sex with. Women were just too much trouble, even way back then. Like it or not, my love life was settling in to something I could more easily manage to do. That did not seem to include a lot of women. These women in the bar picked up on that, obviously.
They were all somewhat cool to me. Some of them even made jokes about the People's Park riots going on in Berkeley back then. "Awwwh, poor girl, they took away your park," I would hear. Or some such thing. Dykes can be really snotty, and very inbred. Thank God I liked playing pool, because otherwise there was just no point in my being there.
Eventually I wandered away from the bar, I finished school and started working in hospitals. One night on my swing shift I happened to read the local newspaper, and that was when I found out what happened to Edy.
Do you know how you can pick up a newspaper and casually scan it and then for some reason your eye falls on something, something rather obscure, and you suddenly recognize a name? I have had that experience several times already in my life, and it is scary in its uncanniness.
My eye fell on a small news story tucked away on an inside page. About a robbery attempt and a shooting in a local bar. I was horrified. It was all about Edy. Edy was dead. Several guys came into the bar, probably knowing it was a dyke bar, and tried to rob the place. Edy tried to grab the gun away from one of the guys and it went off, mortally wounding her. She was brought to Highland Hospital, where I worked. Thank God I was not on duty that night. I might have had to go over and do admitting papers on her.
But Edy did not make it. She died in the O.R. You were so hot-tempered, I thought, what are you doing trying to grab a gun away from a guy bent on robbing you? I thought of her little boy. Who was going to raise him. I thought of Betty, the bar owner. No longer Edy's lover but the pain must have been great for her.
I put the paper down and burst into tears.
- - - - -
