Well, do I ever feel like and understand and commiserate with Oprah Winfrey.

Nope you’re wrong, I am not a bazillionaire. Nope, I didn’t wake up this morning with brown skin. Nope, I didn’t just build a school in South Africa. Nope, I don’t have a boyfriend named Stedman. Hey, wait a minute, I don’t even have a boyfriend! And I guess that’s part of the problem.

But I do have the best ever girlfriend and her name is Carol. Kinda like Oprah has Gayle. Ahem. You’ve heard the rumors floating around about them… that they are more than just friends, that they are lesbians…

Well, there you have it. That’s why these days I’m feeling a little bit like Oprah, though I don’t think the AP News Wire is gonna pick up my post.

It’s really a shame… well, just a little shame because Carol and I don’t angst over it too much. It’s just the little things, the little harmless gestures and words we’ve used over the years, that for some reason look or sound different now that we both are no longer married and are living on our own.

For example, people I’m fond of, people of any gender, I will lavishly call “sweetheart.” It’s a habit – a benign moniker of affection – kinda like your waitress at the local café who calls you “Hon” while smacking chewing gum, while tapping her pencil, while glancing over her shoulder to see who needs coffee refills, while shifting her weight from one hip to the other… I call men, women, children, dogs and cats, “sweetheart.”

The other night we got all gussied-up because Carol treated me to dinner at a very, very fancy-pants restaurant in Monteagle. I know – that all read like one long oxymoron. Believe it or not, there are quite a few very fine restaurants on the mountain (besides the Sno-Cone Burger Palace), because of the unusual demographics, which I will address in another post. As we were being seated, I turned to Carol and said, “What a lovely table, sweetheart.” Gulp. I sat down and glanced around the room – had anyone heard me, and if they had, what were they thinking? This is only one example – I need to clean up my act, like yesterday, which is such a darn shame. Really. Same genders can no longer show an iota of affection or they risk the ‘gay’ label. Disclaimer: I support all choices people make.

Below is an email I received from a cousin-in-law-once-removed-by-my-first-marriage – hey, if I keep going at this rate with marriages, no telling what relations I’ll concoct. Anyway, Stacy is a marvelous person and writer and graduate of Sewanee, so he is familiar with the mountain. This is a portion of his reply to an email I sent him:

“Do not even consider discouraging the lesbian rumors -- that way, you and Carol will be invited to the most interesting parties on the mountain, and never to the dreary Baptist gatherings. Being a pair of beauties doesn't hurt your chances, either.”

Great advice, Stacy, and thanks for the compliment. :)

Okay, I’m still white and not looking for a boyfriend, but gotta dash to meet with my architect for that school I’m building in Moldova (located between Romania and the Ukraine and is the poorest country in Europe), then I’m off to meet with my financial advisor for updates on my portfolio, then I think I’ll give Carol a ring. Oops, no sillies, I’m not gonna propose, I’m gonna call her. See how easy it is to misconstrue things?

Later, sweethearts. :)


Carol & Reenie