Already making it hard for me.

first day of classes.
sitting on the sofa behind the stage.
i was not sitting next to him.
but he jammed his hand between the sofa and the guy in the middle of us, and grabbed my hand.
i don't know why.
but i didn't say a word.
and ran my fingers across his knuckles.

flashes hot and cold

There are certain women I'm with where males are the basic subject of a conversation, where you are only truly interesting if you have a man you can feel passion for. Whether he cares for you back, doesn't know you exist, or is in love with your best friend; it doesn't matter-the ultimate care you have for this being is what the other women cheer you on for, cry with you about. bond with you. A woman's romantic relationship-there lies her corest emotions.

There are other women who flip their hair dispassionately at the merest mention of romantic interest. They have other things on their minds-themselves, predominately-and would rather discuss components of their personal personality. Likes, dislikes, travels, arts choices and life philosophies are the chosen discussion boards for these women. A man is irrational, burdensome, and immature. Liking one makes you just a little weak and foolish, they wouldn't say it; but that look comes into their eyes.

Being a woman, and thus being a cat, I sulk my way through these contrasts. My "And when he hugged me hello, I hope he didn't feel me tremble!" can turn into "He's a cool guy, I like discussion literature choices with him." And in both situations, as the girls eagerly await a chance to say, "me too! EXACTLY!" I know my part and play it, feeling every inch the strongest in both situations.

Funny thing is, it never occurred to me I do this until exactly...now.

At least you can make a scene in secret

I can't even embed this but its worth posting anyway because its so marvelously accurate of...well of everybody who feels alone!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0D0zfB1l1x0

Waitin for my dearie

"Kate, you're hopeless. Maybe you're a lesbian." My coworker said, with a tone of irritation in his voice, "You're just too picky to ever like a rel guy. So I guess its gotta be a girl."
"No! I'm not, I just need to wait for the right guy. I just can't...go with anyone not good enough,"
"but your kind of guy is impossible!" he protested. I had to laugh. Yes, he certianly was.
"Look, look at my problem.: I said, and I held up his hand. "first," I put down his first finger, "there are the stupid guys that don't think of anything but cars and pranks and stuff, like they never left 3rd grade. Can't deal with that," I put down another finger, "Then, there are the manwhores who only want sex. Obviously, will have nothing to do with them," Third finger, "Then there are the guys that I just don't have anything in common with, like my smart sciencey friends. Nice guys, but I don't know what to do with them, " fourth finger, "Then the good guys, the sweet christian boys who treat me well. But every one i've ever gone out with is so dull and sheltered. None of them challenge me," We were down to his last finger, and he was shaking his head at me.
"And fifth?"
"Fifth are the really interesting, complex guys that I am actually drawn to. But their problem? They're really troubled and often bad. So I won't touch it. See, what am I going to do?"
"Be a lesbian." He answered, a joke, but he thought I was doomed. At that moment, so did I.
"No. Guess I'll just keep waitin."





It was the end of the night, I had one last table as I swept the food remains of the day from the carpet. I felt that the older couple, complacently sharing their medium pepperoni, were watching me. Finally, the gentleman spoke up, "They've got quite a worker in you," he said. I smiled, "Aw thanks. I appreciate that!"
"Do you have a boyfriend?" The woman asked. I was struck by the question; who asks that?
"No, actually, I don't." I answered.
"Well good. Don't you ever settle!" the man said. Wow. Was this straight from Heaven?
"Thank you so much! You have no idea, I was just being chastised by my coworkers about being too picky!"
"No, no! Don't listen to them, you take your time and wait for the right guy. He'll come." He said firmly. I couldn't stop smiling.
"You have no idea how much this means to me. That was the perfect timing."
We talked on about other things, they complimented me and then left a 25% tip.

Well thanks, Somebody who's apparently listening.

reason for conversation unknown.

"do you, like, actually date? You don't date, right?" He looks at me through his glasses with round dark eyes set in a pale very Jewish, and kind of adorable face. His voice is deadpan just like his expression. I cannot tell if he's asking at the request of one of our mutual guy friends, for himself, or if he's just decided to take an interest in me and find out what of the gossip is real. We haven't talked much before that, but we share in common at least 2 close friends. I blink at him, unable to discern exactly what response I should give.
"Well yeah. I go out. I just-" Now I knew what I wanted to say, and my voice got confident. "I don't date casually. And I DON"T randomly hook up." He nodded.
"Okay then, no, that makes sense. I just didn't know-you know, with Joe and Chris and Luke-well and them all-hitting on you all the time. I didn't-"
"I guess I just get used to it. I'm a waitress, anyway. I can be friendly and let them have their fun, but I think I make it pretty clear what my boundary line is." I say. I look at him, trying to read. "Ren thinks I lead people on and its cruel. Do you think I do?"
"I mean, sure. Its reasonable. I mean, coming from a guys point of view I know what they can be thinking.But you have every right to-psh, Ren doesn't know anything."

I am curious as to what he's hearing about me, curious what he knows.
"do they think I'm very religious?"
"Well, from what I've heard I mean yeah-I mean, Christ got the message pretty fast and all."
"I don't like that word, religious. I am a very strong Christian though." I add. I'm not sure what to say after this. People get such horrible ideas when they hear that terrible word, Christian.
"sure." he says.
Nate comes into the room. Nate is a tool and I hate him. I fall silent and so does he, and Nate says something stupid. We go back to work.

Ignore that thudding, please.

i was sleepy and the sofa was soft and he was sitting there next to me slouched towards me. i napped on his shoulder, I do not exaggerate by telling you that my head was the exact right size to fit just under his neck to his shoulder, and I was ridiculously comfortable. We talked a little, murmured in sleepy tones, but drowsed easily.
He smells so delicious. So mild, not the slightest bit musty or manly cologney, just barely fresh like a spring wind.

He had to leave; he said he'd kill anyone who took that seat. Ten minutes later he was back, and I went back to my lovely pillow. So natural.

Too soon it was my turn to have a job, and I stood. As my girlfriend stretched out to fill my seat on the sofa I nodded toward him and said, "he makes a good pillow." He sat up straight. "Excuse me no, invitation's not open to everyone." He said.

No Ren, that jackhammer pounding louder than all the clamor in the room, no that's definitely not my heart.


Psh.

i should be really over talking about this but

So I knew I was more than just amused when I kept dreaming about him. Fuzzy, messy, plotless dreams that all I was aware of was he was with me. But it was a great feeling and I couldn't wait to go back to sleep and dream about him again.

I know I can't, but I will try, to explain just what it is I'm so stupidly attracted to. Its his balance of a heartless-opinionated-egotistical with a tender-vulnerable-open-confused. So many men have one, but I haven't met one that has such a raw and obvious combination.
He'll tell you something is ugly, or announce "I don't like that kid. He's rude." (I always agree with his reviews of people, they are flatly accurate). And then he'll catch you by surprise by saying darling or wishing he could do the shuffle-step part of the tap routine.
He's a talented actor, he loves music, but doesn't carry himself with the heady dreamy silly "i'm artsy" that I can't stand.

What else, I won't deny, he touches me. Not just me-he leans on everyone. And they all seem to be used to it. But I'm not. So it catches me by surprise when. He sits on my lap, leans against me in a doorway, lifts me up and carries me along the hall for no reason. We went to a party and saw a movie; he sat behind me and I leaned against his chest. We went to a restaurant that had a bench seat, he laid in my lap.
I love the way he grabs my hair, like he has some right to it.

And all the complications of the man swirl so blatantly and i really like it.

But don't worry, I know. Its still oh well.