Wilson comes out . . .and discovers love

I know you folks  have been waiting with bated breath Since Valentine's Day to find out what readers had to say about Wilson's gender. Well, you may be in for a big surprise.

Let me prepare you. Wilson lives on Seattle's Capitol Hill, where, as Garrison Keillor might say, "all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and a whole lot of the kids are adopted."

Wilson: Not what 

you thought

That's right, Wilson lives in a community where gender lines are greatly blurred. None of the responses to my Valentine's Day question about Wilson's gender took that into consideration. It's time to rethink my truly adorable indestructible  little traveling companion, who has become a very close, personal friend in a very special way.

Times have changed. For example, Only a few years ago I was dancing with an attractive, tall computer programer who had kids. My partner was more solid and taller than I. And he was beginning to deal with his ambivalent gender by wearing clothing usually reserved for women, and using the ladies room at the dance hall. That guy could do dips better than any female follow I knew.

It felt strange dancing with he-she, which made me appreciate how strange the world may have felt to him-her, and the courage that was involved in coming to grips with the dichotomy.Then, for about a month,  he-she wasn't at the dance venue. And then he-she was back--most of him, anyway. He left part of himself in Thailand, where she had enlisted a surgeon to indelibly clarify her gender for the remainder of her days.

Wilson doesn't have to worry about that. Unlike gays, lesbians and transexuals, Wilson can't have a sexual identity crisis, because Wilson isn't sexual. (Wilson is a perfect sphere--no gonads in sight.) So what do you call that? Pregendered? Pregendered in a post-gender age? Nongendered?

And how about those pronouns?
And what kind of pronouns do you use? He? She? It? I kind of like "they." Give credit for that to those uppity feminists who threw a hissy fit because of the predominant use of the male pronouns. Now we end up with language like this:  "If anyone is missing a set of keys, they can find them at the lost and found." "

"They" has becomes the new third person nongendered singular.

Can't we just be friends? Well, no!
Remember the movie, "When Harry Met Sally?" Billy Crystal tells Meg Ryan that "men and women can't just be friends." Well, Wilson and I have spent a lot of time together. And I've had my hands all over the little critter -- but in a platonic sort of a way. Really. Uh, oh, here comes Wilson now.

"Robert?"
Uh yeah...?"
"What is love?"
"Ah, geeze, Wilson. Don't ask me that..."
"But I really want to know."
"Yeah, you and everybody else."
"Oh c'mon..."

"Uh, well, that's hard to say. I can only speak from my limited experience. But you might learn a little bit about that from Tevye by clicking your mouse button on the photo below:" (The schmaltzy video will open in a new window.)

"Wow. Was that what it was like for you?"
"More or less.

"You know, Wilson, women like to talk about 'intimacy.' They haven't got a clue what it is. It's not just rubbing your surfaces together. There's something more. It's the sharing. And the times we've spent together. And the memories we accumulate along the way. And the trust. It's not your story. It's not my story. It's our story."

"Robert, remember when we were at the top of Costa Rica's Irazu volcano, and you were wheezing and dizzy from the 11,000-foot altitude? You held me up and we did that little dance from Rocky.

At the Irazu Volcano, Wilson and Robert imitate Rocky from the movie of the same name.

"Yeah, Wilson, and you were there right next to me, when we all watched that little turtle making it's desperate run for the Caribbean."

Wilson was there to watch The Little Turtle that Could.

Wilson took the stabbing like the

 little indestructible critter they is.

"And that girl-thing was so impressed when we were climbing Little Si and you stuck your pocket knife in me to show her how resilient I am."

"And that time at the torture museum in Rothenburg, when I let you try out the stocks."

In Rothenburg, Wilson learned all about shaming.

"And it was sure comforting for you to hold me during those tense moments in that East German Stasi interrogation cell."

Wilson and Robert wait for the man with the with the clip board and the electrodes.

"And letting you hang around  Checkpoint Charlie  where the Americanskis and the Russkis used to face each other eye-ball-to-eyeball during the cold war."

At midnight, Wilson hangs around the former frontier.

"And ever since I saw the Nazi Burger King in Nuremberg--Hitler's old power station that's now schlepping fries--I've wondered just what french fries taste like."

The power station for the Nazi parade grounds now sells the Whopper.

"You know, Wilson, it was a real comfort to have you along on that six-hour rain hike up Mount Si."

Wilson was there for all six hours of that cold, miserable hike.

"And I appreciate you taking me along when  we descended into that dry,desolate crater of Maui's Haleakala volcano. You were so tired after climbing from 7,300 feet to almost 10,000 feet, to get out of that hole. And, we did it together!

Wilson at the bleak basin of Haleakala's.

Wardrobe malfunction
"Hey, Wilson, remember your wardrobe malfunction on the Chirico Trail to Poo Poo Point on Tiger Mountain? You slipped right out of that kinky see-through net tether you like and went rolling down the trail naked as a jay bird! (Nobody who saw it laughed, because you look the same from all directions.) Fortunately, my hiking buddy Sue Butkus was there to fix that tether.( I was too shy to handle your garment with people watching.).

Third Rainier attained.

"Well, what I really remember, Robert, is how blue the sky was above Mount Si when we completed enough vertical feet gained to equal three Mount Rainiers. I was on that climb right behind you. I never saw such a blue sky!

Mount Si's famed "Haystack." The tiny colorful dots are people. This was our third "Rainier."

"You know,Wilson,  I can't tell you how many women I've met online who say they want to get together to see whether there's any "chemistry." But it's the time together that make the bonds so tight. My 31-year marriage didn't start out on whether the "chemistry" was right. It started with three mini-disasters in a row. But we got there, and we did it without hurting someone else in the process. It was a clean join. If you're interested, I'll tell you about it some time.

Coming attractions
"And, Robert, you know what I like to think about--it's what's coming up next. In April we'll have another great adventure -- Ecuador! And we'll be bringing some of my relatives along for that one. At least two will end up playing with kids in an orphanage, and another six or eight will find other homes somewhere around Quito."

"Yeah, that'll be fun. Then, in May, I'll be taking you to Tijuana so you  can watch a couple dozen Catholics from St. John Vianney Parish in Kirkland  build a house in a poor neighborhood."

"And by mid-summer, I'll be tied to your ankles as we start our 3,000-foot butt-slide down the snow field from the top of Mount Adams, looking out over all creation. I'm revved!".

"Robert?"
"Yes, Wilson."
"Do you love me?"
"Ah, geeze Wilson! Let's not go there."
"Robert, I'm asking you a question. Do you looooove meeeee?"
"Uh...OK, I guess I do."
"And I love you too...Poochie Poo."
"Uh. Wilson. People are reading this. Lots of people. They know me. I'm going to hear about this. Lay off the pet names, OK?"
"Why not, Punkie?"
"Wilson! "
"Yes, Poopsie?"
"Wilson! Knock it off!"
"Robert?"
"Yeah?"
"Are we having our first fight?"

After all this time, we finally shoot our first "Selfie."