Strange Attractions
Since January of 1999, I've been single. The six months before that, it was a long distance slow burn to the end. The three years before that, well, it was complicated, but generally good (for both of us, I hope).
Since January of 1999, I've had one thing that could be even vaguely considered a date. It was awkward and squeezed into a time frame too short and lead to a NY to Vegas road trip, but nothing more.
Since January of 1999, I've gotten quite good at being single, at being comfortable being single, at genuinely enjoying being single. (I've also been able to fully perfect and understand that whole "crush" thing I seem to go on about a lot lately.)
None of that has really changed.
But, yesterday at the ren fair, I was reminded of some things.
Of what those first tentative moments of contact are like. Those instants of stolen glances and hesitant touches.
Of the feeling of interested fingers gliding along an arm, or a hand, or a shoulder.
Of that extra energy transferred by a parting hug and that hopeful depth in her eyes as good-byes are reluctantly exchanged.
I'm out of practice with those things, to say the least. They're not things I look for when I meet people. They're definitely not things I look for when I meet people in a situation that I think is going to be fleeting and temporary and full of other distractions.
I don't look for them because I'm not particularly interested in fleeting and distractions when it comes to relationship-related things. I never have been. Maybe it's because I never had the chance to live that kind of life during my adolescence. Maybe it's because I never felt the need to go and try later in life. I'm good with the idea of "hooking up" or just making out. Conceptually, it seems like a lot of fun. But practically, I don't think it's for me.
And so, when I (finally) realize I'm in a situation where things like that could happen, I do nothing. Nothing more than return the basic affection, at least.
Others don't seem to have a problem running with things and not caring about consequences. Take, for example, the Capt. Jack Sparrow that swooped in and stole a kiss from my flirty miss while we were on our way out of the fair. It lasted but a moment. The smile and surprise on her face, however, lingered 'till the exit gate. I laughed, honestly and truly amused and delighted, reveling in reactions and the energy flow of the whole experience.
And when we parted, I could have--but didn't--stolen a kiss of my own. No. I remember looks like hers from long ago and far away. It would not have been stolen. It would have been willingly shared.
What kind of message does that send? I don't know. It hasn't come up in my life enough to even begin to figure it out. Or at least I've never noticed it come up and play out. All of my relationships have started out in odd ways (and most ended just as oddly). I have no positive experience with anything even vaguely resembling a normal one.
But by this time next week, I should know more.
If it wasn't just the thrill (and alcohol) of the fair.
If it wasn't just my imagination.
If reality doesn't complicate matters more than they already are.
If I am actually as ready for new and different experiences as I like to think I am.
mmm... it has most definitely been a good weekend.
Since January of 1999, I've had one thing that could be even vaguely considered a date. It was awkward and squeezed into a time frame too short and lead to a NY to Vegas road trip, but nothing more.
Since January of 1999, I've gotten quite good at being single, at being comfortable being single, at genuinely enjoying being single. (I've also been able to fully perfect and understand that whole "crush" thing I seem to go on about a lot lately.)
None of that has really changed.
But, yesterday at the ren fair, I was reminded of some things.
Of what those first tentative moments of contact are like. Those instants of stolen glances and hesitant touches.
Of the feeling of interested fingers gliding along an arm, or a hand, or a shoulder.
Of that extra energy transferred by a parting hug and that hopeful depth in her eyes as good-byes are reluctantly exchanged.
I'm out of practice with those things, to say the least. They're not things I look for when I meet people. They're definitely not things I look for when I meet people in a situation that I think is going to be fleeting and temporary and full of other distractions.
I don't look for them because I'm not particularly interested in fleeting and distractions when it comes to relationship-related things. I never have been. Maybe it's because I never had the chance to live that kind of life during my adolescence. Maybe it's because I never felt the need to go and try later in life. I'm good with the idea of "hooking up" or just making out. Conceptually, it seems like a lot of fun. But practically, I don't think it's for me.
And so, when I (finally) realize I'm in a situation where things like that could happen, I do nothing. Nothing more than return the basic affection, at least.
Others don't seem to have a problem running with things and not caring about consequences. Take, for example, the Capt. Jack Sparrow that swooped in and stole a kiss from my flirty miss while we were on our way out of the fair. It lasted but a moment. The smile and surprise on her face, however, lingered 'till the exit gate. I laughed, honestly and truly amused and delighted, reveling in reactions and the energy flow of the whole experience.
And when we parted, I could have--but didn't--stolen a kiss of my own. No. I remember looks like hers from long ago and far away. It would not have been stolen. It would have been willingly shared.
What kind of message does that send? I don't know. It hasn't come up in my life enough to even begin to figure it out. Or at least I've never noticed it come up and play out. All of my relationships have started out in odd ways (and most ended just as oddly). I have no positive experience with anything even vaguely resembling a normal one.
But by this time next week, I should know more.
If it wasn't just the thrill (and alcohol) of the fair.
If it wasn't just my imagination.
If reality doesn't complicate matters more than they already are.
If I am actually as ready for new and different experiences as I like to think I am.
mmm... it has most definitely been a good weekend.