Open Letter to the Stranger at Coffee Bean Who Decided My Private Conversation was an Invitation to Discuss Her Vagina.
Hey Stranger!
I wonder if you will remember me. I was the woman sitting close to you at the Coffee Bean last Sunday. You may remember I had tears in my eyes, talking to my friend with tears in her eyes when you scooched over to give us your thoughts. Thank you! No one asked for your input, and my friend certainly didn’t pose her private question to the caffeinated population of Coffee Bean. Still, the vaginal information you relayed made you feel good, which is all that matters when you’re out in public: your needs, your thoughts and most importantly, your cooter.
Listen, I get it. What’s a Sunday for but to intrude in on the confidential discussions of others? That afternoon wasn’t about us, my friend’s divorce, or my mother’s Alzheimer’s disease. Your son, Curt, the color of your blouse, and your odd-shaped labia buried the leads and stole the show. That’s where we wanted to focus our attention. My mom and her tiny memory issues were going to have to wait.
Congratulations on how you ignored all our social cues! The way we refocused our attention on each other, our short responses, and our lack of knowledge about cervical mucus didn’t detour you. We didn’t know or care, but our lack of snatch…
