We arrange to meet by the bronze statue.  

(Later I think about the irony of meeting a strong woman at the statue of a very strong, indeed VERY strong, woman) 

I must admit, I am a bit anxious. A little giddy even. I am going to meet her at last! She is (in reality) a mystery.  I have never spoken to her on the phone and have never met her in person. I do not know her voice--will it be soothing and warm? Gracious? Accented?  Horrors, what if it is high and grating? 

It occurs to me that I have told almost no one about my plans. What am I doing meeting someone off of the internet? What has my life come to?  Might it be true, this accusation hurled at me: YOU ARE EASY, AN OS SLUT!  

Yet there is a burning curiosity as well about meeting someone whose work I have admired. I have felt this before when I met several esteemed OS'ers. I worried that I might be disappointed--or, worse, be seen as disappointing.   Gah!

What if she is not who I think I know her to be based on her writing? From her writing, I sense her to be inviting, warm and generous yet not afraid to assert herself. I perceive her to be confident, sensual, really smart, and likely outgoing. I know I will like her. Won’t I?

She is flying here. For no real reason except to meet women she met over the internet! What kind of craziness is this?

WHOA!  I am late for our arranged pick up.

I drive like a bat        

out of hell but I

am still late.  

I am reminded of my tardiness when my phone rings. I have programmed her name into my phone and so it pops up:

femme forte OS

I’ll bet you’re wondering where I am! I say, trying to be witty as I hurriedly push close my car door, trying to push my purse strap onto my shoulder.

A laugh emits. No, I think we may have come in early! 

Okay, she is indeed generous, she is giving me an out. I know I am 10 minutes late.  Look for me, I’m the one about to burst through the doors in just a moment. I’ll be the one looking anxious.  I trot faster.

I aim my gaze towards the statue, the arranged place, as I zoom through the doors. The Austin airport is small and familiar.  At least I won't get lost here!

I see her!  Surely no one else can possess such presence while awaiting a virtual stranger.

We hug like old friends. We hug as new friends. We’re both!  Her eyes are marvelous; they remind me of old-fashioned marbles, the kind you never wanted to trade as a kid. Her smile is generous and real. Her voice has that listen to me quality.