A Taxi Conversation

The other week I stayed with lady s for a few days. That’s not in itself odd as I’ve had more than a few weekends there over the last couple of years, but it was the first time that extended into the working week.

The original plan had been to get picked up by Lady M after work on the Wednesday, but she was decidedly unwell and so suggested grabbing a taxi home and charging it to the emergency credit card.

So with the help of my trusty app I did just that, absolutely making the day of a wonderfully garrulous driver who chatted away with me about life, the universe, and everything – after first getting his head round my answers to his questions.

You see, he asked where I was off to, and what I’d been doing, and got very confused for a moment when I mentioned one partner’s name and then another, and talked of the two houses as homes – but as I clarified the situation further and confirmed our relationships are all consensual and clearly communicated among us he nodded, grinned, said it sounded wonderful – and that was the end of any questions on that front. Instead we talked of driving, of families, ambitions, and the peculiarities of Christmas shopping.

It was heartening and a lovely surprise in many ways. It certainly reaffirmed my faith in people in that moment.

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