She held my head in her hands and looked me right in the eyes, she wanted me to know it was alright and she wasn’t going anywhere. “Sam, thank you,” she said, “I know it wasn’t easy for you to tell me that story. Can I ask, what was her name?” I realized I told the whole story without mentioning my wife by name. “Her name was Jenny.” “Well Jenny sounds wonderful, I think I would have liked her.” “Yeah, she would have liked you too.” We sat there for a few minutes, neither one of us saying anything. “I guess you want to know my story then?” Amy asked. “No. If you don’t want to tell me or don’t feel comfortable telling me I understand. And the past is the past.” She looked at me with such gentle eyes. She leaned back on the sofa. “No, I want you to know about my past. I have never really told anyone about it and it meant so much to me that you trust me enough to tell me about you and Jenny that I know I can trust you too.” Amy paused for a second, like she was composing herself. “I. We could all get ID photos, like having fingerprints on file in some central database. Ha Ha! I was OBVIOUSLY apprehensive and thinking like a crazy idiot. Shit, I hoped I wouldn’t act that way around him! Oh, so then getting back to the basics - how long, wide, circumcised or not, lots of bulging veins, or smooth, darker skin tone near the top, or creamy beige all over, big or small balls, the kind that hang vertically but low, or the kind that are more puffy and full and sit a little higher, more horizontally? It was unbelievable; I needed to get my mind off of that as soon as I could. Oh, but I couldn’t. He was late. Being a woman, I knew what that meant. In reality, it meant that it was probably nothing and that by being a woman, I was worrying without any reason. So I acknowledged that and figured I’d just rationally direct myself to think about something else. I had to calm down, and took some slow, deep breaths. I thought to myself, other people do this all the time, so can I..
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