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05.17.02 - 8:31 p.m. im always the only white girl at the laundromat. The only white person. Usually the only young person, always the only reader. There are usually children. Little black girls, all legs with clothes that look like an afterthought. They watch me too. The way i slide quarters in, the way i fold my underwear, corners in corners in, butt up, next. I imagine i must be interesting. Its weird when you stop to think about it. Lets list those who have seen my underwear: My mom, my roommate, my college roommate, becca, lainy, tim, johnathan, maybe my brothers and dad, and then...every damn person in the laundromat including but not limited to The General who scooped up my errant thong with the tip of his cane and followed after me with it yelling, "Miss! Miss!." For some reason it wasnt embarrassing. The exchange was as if i had dropped the cotton balls from my grocery cart or a dollar bill in line at the movies. I thanked him in the same way and he nodded and returned his cane to the floor. Its loud at the laundry. The television is always on far too loud and people line their lawn chairs up in front of it like its their very own Two Birds with One Stone theatre. I bring my headphones and a book and check to make sure my clothes are still spinning and smile at leggy eight year olds. They do a funny dance after they smile back. Arms shoot into the air, knobby elbows at their ears and hips twisting. Smiling with their eyes shut like theyre suddenly plugged in, running to their moms, laughing. I go back to reading and The General discusses the legal validity of Divorce Court. He's apparantly been married several times and seems to be in between "lady folk." There should be a rule about emailing back. There just should. No one should leave something like this hanging over the weekend just because they can. Its just damn unfair. And while i promised i wouldnt do this anymore, i am. He started it again because he can and i didnt play back at all and responded immediately, bright faced and new and vulnerable, an open book ive wanted him to read forever. And now the constant checking and ridiculous anxiety. I want to talk about game playing and the people that do it but i cant figure out how to approach it without sounding 21st century and Dating Game esque. It happens too often, even with people who claim to be vulnerable because you cant play games and be vulnerable at the same time, theres not enough room and they cancel each other out. I guess you can play games one instance and be vulnerable the next but the problem with that is that youre never on the same page with your partner who may be vulnerable while your playing and vice versa. Im very rarely vulnerable, with men anyway, none of which i trust. I was vulnerable with eric and he teased me into aridity. I was vulnerable with the old man, am, and i know better. I suppose i was almost vulnerable with tim, but he never knew it, theres that difference. Vulnerablilty is lovely when its handled correctly, its like weightlessness. To say, "Here, take this" is to ask a lot of someone and when they take it and thank you for it, thats something that you remember, save in your muscle and bone, and when its gone, theres a breathlessness where it was extracted. And i wait, anyway. � 
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