I’m Not Accepting Donations
Upon ordering a drink at the bar, I was immediately accosted by an older gentleman who would use the phrase, “older gentleman.” I accepted his invitation to join him and his wife at their table, and I thanked him for placing my drink on his tab.
He began to tell me about his son. His son had died because of a drug overdose, but I was still alive. I had my whole life ahead of me. Whatever the reason for which I’d used a wheelchair, I was bigger than it. He and his wife wanted to know what it was. I explained to them the general concept of muscular dystrophy, which they referred to as, “MS.”
This man liked talking to me, and it wasn’t because he felt bad for me! He just thought I was a cool guy, and he wanted to buy me a drink. His wife was quiet and sober, so they didn’t have much more to say once the man had finished talking. On their way out, the man kissed me on the forehead.
The bartender arrived to wipe down the table. “He’s been here since 2PM,” he said.
Weeks later, I scored several drinks from a woman on the younger side. Not to be too problematic, but in terms of looks, she was my type, she was all by herself, she didn’t have a ring on her left ring finger, and she wasn’t wearing earbuds or scrolling through pictures of half-naked twenty-somethings. Guilt dragged me from the bar to her table.
She told me she was studying to be an occupational therapist. She wanted to work with people like me, and she was about to approach me, herself. I talked with her about my freelance work until she admitted she needed to step out into the isolated darkness for a smoke. I didn’t smoke, but I’d go with her.
We weren’t outside long, as this night was among fall’s first. Our conversation slowed as she took the odd puff. She held my hand as we walked back inside. The blood under her soft palm filled me with hope and fantasies that’d cause younger, more neurotic peers to call me creepy and clingy. It wasn’t because she felt bad for me! I asked for her number before we closed out.
“Maybe next time.”
