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| Image: http://divorcedatingpost.com/ |
I went on a date last night.
It was the most painful date I ever had.
It hurt in every sense.
A few minutes before the date, I realized that the zipper on my skirt was off.
I tried desperately to fix it and make it look normal, cursing myself silently for choosing to wear this particular skirt out of all the skirts in my wardrobe on this night.
After much tugging, I managed to fix the problem.
Just for security measures, I turned the back of my skirt to the side so that it would be under my watchful eye.
The skirt was extremely uncomfortable since it kept on rubbing me in a way which made me feel uneasy. But life wasn’t supposed to be easy after all.
So I met the guy.
And as he was telling me with great passion that rabbis who demand respect are arrogant, I nodded vigorously at everything he said, trying desperately to wiggle out of the skirt that was rubbing my raw skin off.
And then there was my foot which developed a blister.
And I didn’t have a band aid on me.
And I was wearing heals.
It took every bit of willpower in me not to limp and twitch with every step and to walk with the most grace I can muster.
The second he dropped me off, I ducked into the pharmacy to get a bandage.
I leaned on the wall and took my foot out of my shoe.
It was bleeding.
I wrapped my foot and felt an instant sense of relief.
The place where the zipper disturbed my leg was black and blue, and I was a survivor of a date extremely painful.
