I was driving to the local market, when I saw a woman pushing a pram a block ahead of me. Tawny skin, dark hair, and a large, bouncing bottom that was struggling to free itself from her black trousers.
I slowed down as I passed, to take a good look. My goodness, but her backside was moving. She wasn't particularly large ... plump, but not fat. As I drove by her I watched her in the rearview mirror. She had a nice looking bust, too. And big glasses. I sighed, and drove on.
I turned onto the road behind the market, did a big U-turn at a quiet intersection, and parked by the side of the road, pointing back the way I had come.
The woman and her pram were coming along the road to the market, too. I waited in the car for a moment, and got out as they were passing.
"Hello," I said, catching her eye.
"Hello!" said the young boy in the pram.
"Uh, hello," said the woman, and walked on up the path to the market.
I followed with my shopping bags, and enjoyed another minute or so of her moving bottom. It moved both up and down and side to side, swaying with her steps. I was mesmerized.
As I walked around the market, I kept coming across the woman and her son in the pram. They didn't seem to be buying anything. There was product sampling going on, and she stopped to taste and talk.
I left the market with my purchases and walked back to my car. Just as I was getting ready to drive away, the woman walked past me again, back the way she had come. Just her and her son in the pram, no purchases. But that bottom was still moving, and moving me.
I let them walk by, then started up the car and drove slowly past them, and pulled over ahead of them. As she came level with the car, the woman looked in the window at me. No smile, no sign of recognition.
I got out of the car quickly. "Hello, again!"
"Hello!" said the boy.
"Hello," said the woman.
"We saw one another when we first go to the market," I said. "Do you remember me?"
"Yes!" said the boy.
"I don't know," said the woman.
"Well, I'd be happy to give you a lift somewhere, if you like," I said. "My car's right here."
"Why would you give us a lift?" asked the woman. "You don't know us."
"No, but it's cold out, I can help, and, to be honest, I feel like we're making some kind of connection, running into one another this way."
"And?" asked the woman.
"And what?" I replied.
"And there's no other reason you're stopping to offer us a lift?"
"Well, our little connection isn't going anywhere unless one of us does something," I said.
"OK," she said. "We'd appreciate the lift."
She took the boy in her arms, and I loaded the pram in the back of my car. I had no car seat, so we road with her just holding the boy on her lap for the five or six blocks before she said, "Here."
"OK," I said. We got out of the car, I unloaded the pram, she placed the boy in it, and we stood looking at one another.
"Our little connection," said the woman. "I'm Darla. This is my son, Theo. We live here."
"Ah, great," I said. "I'm Sean."
"I have nothing to offer you," said Darla.
"I'm not expecting payment or anything," I said. "Just being nice, making a connection."
"Did you purchase anything to drink at the market?" asked Darla.
"Uh, a couple of bottles of wine," I replied.
"I have nothing to offer you, but, if you have wine, perhaps we can share some, inside," said Darla.
"Oh, sure, that would be great!" I said. I retrieved a bottle of South African Steen from my car, and followed Darla inside.
She closed the door behind her, and said, "Make yourself comfortable. I will put Theo down for his nap, and return with glasses for us."
She left the room with Theo, and I looked around. It was a very small house, with very Spartan furnishings. But it was clean, and tidy. I sat down on a small sofa.
Darla returned in a few minutes, carrying a couple of glass tumblers. "I have no corkscrew," she said.
"Screwcap," I said, holding up the bottle, "So, we're all set."
Darla sat down next to me on the little sofa. The sofa was small enough so that our thighs were just touching.
I opened the wine and poured us each some. Darla lifted her glass to me, I clinked my tumbler against hers, and we both sipped.
"To new connections," I said.
"Yes," said Darla. "I confess, I noticed you when we first said 'hello' and in the market and outside when you stopped to give us a lift."
"You didn't act like you'd noticed me," I said.
"I didn't know why you should notice me," said Darla. "I don't feel very noticeable. But you seemed nice, so I decided to take a chance."
"I'm not dangerous!" I said.
"I didn't think you were," said Darla. "Or why stop to talk to fat woman and her little son?"
"I don't think fat is an appropriate descriptor for you," I said.
"I feel fat," said Darla. "I wobble when I walk."
"Parts of you move when you walk," I said. "But they move in a very attractive way."
"I think your eyes must work differently than my ex-husband's," said Darla. "Once I got pregnant, and had Theo, and still was so fat, he was quickly gone from our lives."
"I'm sorry, Darla," I said. "This must be difficult for you."
"We're getting by," said Darla. "I work in a doctor's office, and make OK money, and we're gradually building a life again ... I know the house doesn't look like it."
"It looks simple, clean, and nice," I said.
"Well, here's another toast to you, Sean," said Darla. "For not ignoring the fat mom."
"I won't toast to that," I said. "But I will raise my glass to a reframe: Here's to a self-sufficient, beautiful woman, I'm so happy to meet you."
"Beautiful!" laughed Darla. "You're a flatterer."
"That might be," I said. "But I'm also honest. I noticed you because you were so attractive, not because I felt sorry for you."