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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required we live behind palace walls “I’m in love,” I said, sighing into the fall-like, Paris afternoon, “I have to admit it.” My 85 year old uncle Remy, gently stirring a pitcher of American martini he was conjuring, said, “You should marry an insignificant lawyer - if you’re going to have a cross-class love affair.” Uncle Remy was a lawyer, of sorts, once. “I think you’re leading the witness,” I said, looking down at my shoes. “I’m in love with my Havaianas,” I clarified - my new, white, square-toed flip-flops. “Besides, no one thinks in terms of class any more - and Peter and I are NOT an asymmetrical match or relationship or whatever.” But it got me thinking. Half, or more, of what Uncle Remy says is politically incorrect. And I don’t judge him harshly.. I wrote, last week, about a guy who (gasp) told me he found me attractive like it was some crisis. Hadn’t I schemed to get with Peter? (my bf). And hadn’t he admitted that he’d schemed to get with me? Was I ready to diagnose this guy as a walking red flag - for a gentle admission of interest? Because he's a big, intimidating guy? What are the small, social rituals we’re allowed to use - to signal desire? Sure, buying someone a drink at a bar - but what else? It’s a Catch-22. Must every comment face the court of public opinion, verbal consent protocols, uni regulations and the behavior authorities? Should we ban serendipity and spontaneity too? Monday morning came and I didn’t ask to change seats I moved my pencil back - a little. He actually could use a bit more room than me. I smiled a little, asked him about his weekend, there’s no use in being unfriendly. His name is Jacques (Jack). . . Songs for this: So Sorry by Lola Young [E] The Hardest Part by Olivia Dean
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