You Can’t Sit With Us


I am no longer half of a pair.

I do not have a plus one.

I arrive alone and leave by myself.

Sometimes, it’s all I can do not to come undone.


I am significant other-less.

I sit at the bar, pay for my own drinks, and then a hail cab.

I have no one to bicker with, cook dinner for, or snuggle against.

My meals are quiet and quick – often something easy to grab.


Excited words fall on solemn walls.

Warm tears on cool pillows.

My bed is my own.

Lonely walks; weeping willows.


I still belong at your table.


I have a career. I have hobbies.

I have interests, thoughts, dreams, and goals.

I tell stories and entertain.

Work the crowd; touch their souls.


I laugh and object when appropriate.

I mention politics, the weather – current events.

I agree when someone makes a point.

Make you chuckle – sarcastic comments.


I do not like dead air.

I am animated and I am chatty.

I talk with my hands and I am loud.

I say things to drive you batty.


I need dessert. You pass the salad.

She orders wine. I try his pasta.

I like her potatoes. He has my vegetables.

We split the bill. I don’t cause drama.


Because I still belong at your table.


He did not make me whole.

He did not make me more interesting, more pleasant, more fun, or…

He was him and I was me.

Now, he is no more.


And I still belong at your table.


I am. I am emotional. I am impatient.

I am schizophrenic. I am wired.

I am hopeful. I am lonely.

I am content. I am tired.


I love. I want. I need. I love my freedom. I want commitment.

I need space. I love my home.

I want a companion. I need a friend.

I love my independence. I want a partner… an adventure… give me room… let me roam.


I worry. I worry about my make-up, my hair, and how I look.

I worry about how to get my dress zipped and I worry with what to say.

I worry if he likes me.

Do I like him? Wait. Is he gay?


I worry about my future.

I worry if and when I will have a family of my own.

I worry about filling that seat.

Will I always be alone?


But I still belong at your table.


I still belong at your table.

Do not sit me to the side.

Do not put me around the corner.

Do not save me for another day, a different dinner – another time.


I still belong at your table.

I am the same woman I have always been.

I am still your daughter, your sister – your friend.

Now, I’m just one less person… “It’s only me; I’m not with him.”


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