Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words or Fewer) #42: V-CARD

I once belonged to V-CARD, a women-only group I’d run across on Facebook.  We’d meet once or twice a month at the organizer’s house.  V-CARD stood for Virgins, Celibates, and—the last two letters would change: Raspberry Donuts (someone had brought them), Retro Disco (playing on the CD player), Rodney Dangerfield (a poster of him), whatever.  The forced fun, the “You go, girl!” attitude, the implicit acceptance of lifelong loneliness—all made me even more depressed about my protracted virginity.  After three months, I stopped attending.  People can change, I dimly perceived.  All my life, I’d specialized in dim perception.

Copyright © 2018 by David V. Matthews

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s