To be honest, I wasn’t really used to being around women like her– or women of any type these days. Since I had returned to California from Walter Reed, it seemed like the women I met fell into three categories: one, those who couldn’t wait to get out of the room when they found out I had been in Iraq and had lost a leg; two, those who volunteered to sleep with me for a chance to see it (making me like a geek at a freak show); and three, those who displayed the rare ability to figure out I had a missing leg and then pretended to ignore it, allowing the 600 lb. gorilla in the room to control conversation by its very pseudo-invisibility.
After a few encounters with each of the three types, I had essentially given up on relationships with the opposite sex. Roddy claimed I was projecting my anxieties on unsuspecting females, never giving them a chance. Perception is reality, I would remind him. Plus the fact that Roddy had, since his return, used prostitutes to satisfy his needs weighed heavily in my ability to take heed of his advice or perspective.