I wonder if she noticed that time I opted to take the stairs rather than share an elevator alone with her. I’m almost certain she caught on that time my car had broken down. I caught a hint of confusion, maybe even embarrassment, on her face when I declined her kindness. “No thanks,” I told her. “I actually prefer the bus.”
But I don’t prefer the bus. I rode the bus, and climbed the stairs, because I had refused to be alone with any woman who wasn’t my wife. No car rides. No meetings behind closed doors even if those doors are just elevator ones. It was a covenant to myself—we met in parties of three or we didn’t meet at all.