another night with dimples, pt. 1

what am i going to do with dimples.

:-T

a few posts ago, i told the story of me and dimples -- specifically how dimples, out of the blue, during a bowling night with other co-workers, not only suggested we go hit a local gay club right after we finished bowling but also, once we arrived and began dancing, started coming on to me on the dance floor.

in the couple of weeks since that episode, there seemed to be nothing more to that incident. i was kind of interested in her motivations for coming on to me that night. like, was she just taking advantage of being completely intoxicated to do something that she couldn't do by day, as a straight girl? or was there a little bit something more to the story?

the days passed, and at the office, i noticed that she seemed to be looking my way at the office quite a bit from wherever she was at, at a given moment, and we started hanging out and talking together more. and of course, we have started chronically e-mailing each other, back and forth, in the office, and by the end of the day, the e-mail trail would be forty responses long. and i have to admit that our e-mails got semi-flirty. but it was never anything overt, and we never talked about what happened on the dance floor between us.

at one point, early last week, in the midst of our e-mail exchanges, dimples asked me about my impressions of another male co-worker, a mutual friend -- namely, whether i'd be interested in dating him. this was the second time a co-worker had asked me if i were interested in another male co-worker. i really don't know if it's the same guy who is asking multiple people to talk to me or whether it is two different guys -- but in both cases, my answer was one of these: "i like him as a friend, but i'm not interested in dating him" or "i'm not interested in being set up on a blind date."

during the past week, i made arrangements with another friend of mine at the office -- the one i mentioned in this other post who asked me, on a recent girls' night out, what my "story" is, i.e., what my love life is like -- to hang out on saturday night.

i have to admit that i was curious about dimples and whether she would hit on me again, whether drunk or sober, the next time we went out. this is what prompted me to ask her if she wanted to come hang out with me and my other friend. dimples said she already had plans, but she also invited us to tag along with her group. i asked my other friend if she was down, and she was.

so it was on.

saturday night got off to a rough start for a number of reasons :-P (don't even ask). :-P but by 10 p.m., i had picked up my friend (i think i'll nickname her violet for blogging purposes) and we were on our way to meet dimples at a somewhat swank club downtown.

i'd never been there before, but i enjoyed the scene. it was definitely not your typical sleazy dance club, and a lot of the people were (or tried to be) better dressed than what you'd find at those other clubs. the music did kind of suck for a good chunk of the night. thus, the first couple of hours were spent chilling on some nice white sofas and chit-chatting. but by the time we'd tossed down three or four cocktails (two lemon drops, a cosmo, and one [or maybe it was two??] glasses of some vodka-pineapple juice concoction for me), we were ready to shimmy and dance and move our bodies in time with the loud beats pulsating throughout the danceclub.

i have to kind of mention, too -- not to inflate myself in way (which, if you are a regular reader, you know i'm way too insecure to do ;) ) but to kind of add other elements to this story -- is that i looked pretty damned good.

:)

while we were sitting, drinking, and talking, violet and i started a stream of gabbing while dimples kind of tended to her own crowd. by the time we were ready to start dancing, though, dimples had begun to get physically affectionate with me again. but she was careful. she did not do anything that would have culled attention from violet.

"hmmm," said my inner voice thoughtfully, narrowing its eyes to carefully ponder dimples' actions.

i went to the bar a few times to order drinks for us. during one of my last trips to the bar, dimples accompanied me. she was, of course, totally drunk at that point, as was i, and she slurred her words. nonetheless, while we were waiting for the bartender, she came in to stand close next to me, and i looked at her face. she was wearing her usual cute glasses.

we started chatting some small talk, when all of a sudden, she began giving me this serious look with her dark eyes, and watching me closely, she said:

"i have such a crush on you."

i think i looked at her with drunken incredulity. she went on:

"i really like you. i've liked you for the longest time." she put a hand on my arm.

i leaned in close to her and said:

"i like you, too." and i smiled at her.

we talked some more while waiting at the bar, flirting. i still was not sure whether it was just the alcohol talking or whether she was being totally sincere. but i went along because i do like her and was being as candid as she.

we got our drinks and went back to our sofa area. we drank and talked some more. i convinced violet to come dancing, and then i asked dimples if she wanted to join us. she did.

violet is a straight girl. so when i dance with her, there is always a safe gap between us. with dimples, there is no safe gap. she was kind of all over me again, and yet in a controlled way; she was all-too-aware that violet was there, and she did not seem any more excited than me to show an interest in girls at the time.

violet found some straight guy to dance with her, and she disappeared in the sea of dancing bodies. it was then just me and dimples. she started dirty dancing with me at that point, her hands roving over me familiarly as it had a couple of weeks before. then after a while, as we were dancing, she said:

"i want to make out with you."

i looked at her, watching her, trying to guess her intentions (yes, i can be overly analytical when shit-faced :-T). she repeated herself:

"i wanna make out with you again."

i smiled at her and teased her a bit.

"we actually never really made out before."

"we didn't?"

"no."

we continued dancing. then she said:

"let's go sit down somewhere."

we found another sofa away from where our friends were and slumped there, completed drunk and exhausted. then after she got her breath, she turned to me and began caressing my face.

"i want to kiss you."

her lips roved across my cheek. and i wanted her to -- i wanted her to kiss me, too. i whispered as such in her ear. and then before i knew it, her lips had found mine.

our first kiss.

her lips were soft and sweet, small yet plush, delicate and deliberate. her tongue darted teasingly into my mouth, and i sucked on it gently. she was a great kisser. i soon also discovered that she was a biter, albeit a gentle biter, which gave me a thrill; i like bites.

we kissed for a while, and then we broke apart and just stared at each other. and then out of the blue violet appeared. i wondered if she had seen us making out. but she did not act like anything was amiss. she said she would be leaving with a guy she'd just met. i asked her if she was sure, and she gave me a confident wave of her hand. "of course!" she said with a grin.

dimples' friends had asked me to make sure dimples got home in one piece and had given me her car keys. i was to drive her home in her car, and then just use her car to drive myself home, and then the following morning, i would have to recruit help so that i could get my own car back home from downtown.

no biggie.

when i finally got dimples back to her house, it was only after she had pulled my head to hers for a number of heated kisses whenever we hit any red lights. we kissed each other more passionately and with more abandon than we had back in the club, where we had felt more self-conscious about our surroundings. at those moments as i drove when we were not kissing, i could feel rather than see her staring at my profile while i tried to concentrate on navigating the streets.

"you are so cute," she kept saying over and over. "i have such a crush on you."

when she said such things, i became shy and did not know what to say. i could only look at her. she would only stare at me with eyes that seemed to see nothing but me.

we finally arrived at her house, and i luckily had managed to evade all the cops' check-points. dimples invited me in to her house. i declined, pointing to the late hour (actually it was about 5 a.m. at that point). but she insisted, and i could not refuse. and so i went in.

i made myself comfortable on her couch, and without asking me if i wanted anything to drink, she went and got us some cold beer from the fridge. she popped the tops on both beverages, handed one to me, then sat at a safe distance away from me. then, as if we had never spent parts of the night making out, we started talking rather platonically about a number of random things -- work, co-workers, our families, mccain and palin, politics in general. i started getting into the discussions despite how tired i was; i always enjoy talking about interesting things.

but i noticed that whenever i started getting into long schpeels about stuff, she would begin staring at me with a soft smile on her lips, and her eyes would get a really strange look.

i recognized the look.

it made me feel somewhat . . .

i don't know.

i was affected and moved by her look -- and yet another part of me was kind of cold and stoic about it, too. that look showed me that . . . she could very well, possibly, already be caring a lot for me.

that she could be . . . in love. with me.

. . . . . .

and then it happened. i was making some serious statement about some harmless topic, i don't remember what. but i certainly wasn't making a real sexy comment or being even the remotest bit flirtatious. nonetheless, all of a sudden, dimples got up from her seat and began moving towards me in a purposeful manner. i saw the look in her eye. and then before i knew it, she was pushing me down on my back on the sofa, and we were kissing again, just as passionately as if we had not stopped. but this time, her body was on top of mine, pressing me down with her full weight. and she was laying between my legs, and her hands were already roving and moving beneath my clothes. but her kisses this time were even hungrier and more devouring than before.

i let her take off my top. i was not wearing a bra (seriously, with boobs the size of small navel oranges, i can get away with that!). she placed her hands on them and massaged them. she began to suck on one of my nipples and began giving it small little bites, which soon began to drive me nuts.

it was only when she began trying to get my pants off that i grew nervous. i wasn't sure if i was comfortable going there with her -- as in all the way. plus, i hadn't shaved the pubes in a couple of days and knew there was a good amount of stubble growth down there. and . . . i dunno -- call me naive (as i know jade will!), but when it comes down to it, i cannot hook up, i.e., fuck, someone whom i was not completed infatuated with. as the heart goes, so follows the body.

and i was not in love with her.

so i stopped dimples before she could get my pants off.

"a-are you . . . sure . . . you want to do this?" i asked haltingly.

her hands had fought mine off and continued trying to pull at my pants. her mouth had been skimming my stomach, but she stopped her movements and looked up at me when i said that.

"what's the matter, boo?"

i found the nickname endearing. she has also already given me one other nickname at the office, and both names totally demonstrate how much more ghetto-savvy she is than me. but it was not going to affect my desire to not take things too far.

i stutteringly repeated myself; i have a terrible stutter when i am nervous.

"shut up," she said, assertively taking charge and cutting me off. "and let's go to the bedroom so that you can feel more comfortable."

she got up and took me by the hand, pulling me up off the sofa.

-------end of part one-------

p.s. seriously, this is truly a true story.

p.p.s. and yes, i do promise to provide the second part of it. for now, i'm just trying to decide . . . how best to tell the rest of the story. . . .

:-T

on writing

anaïs nin

the past couple of nights, i have had time to do a little leisure reading, and so i finally was able to get started on a new book:

henry and june: from "a journal of love" - the unexpurgated diary of anaïs nin (1931-1932).

this book is a compilation of all the entries from anaïs nin's diaries that tell the story of how she met henry miller and his wife june mansfield in paris, france, and carried on passionate relationships with them and also how they inspired divine artistic desires within her.

june mansfield miller

nin's writing is absolutely beautiful.

i've read a set of nin's diaries entitled nearer the moon before, but that one is a broader volume containing all of nin's diary entries within a particular time-frame. the henry and june book focuses specifically on nin's love for the millers and thus contains only those pertinent diary entries, and it really is a fantastic, romantic, passionate, mesmerizing read.

but in all addition to telling those love stories, nin also writes passionately about the art of writing itself, and it seems a fantastically timed fate that she and henry miller, a man who understood that overwhelming, all-consuming, superceding desire to write, should meet and begin their tempestuous affair just based on that mutual desire and need to write alone.

reading it makes me have faith and believe in the power of writing again. nin is a tremendously amazing writer, and to her, she has no purpose in life if she cannot write. thus, she was a frequent writer, generating tens of thousands of pages of diary entries, numerous letters, sensual stories, and she even often re-wrote and revised her own diary entries. i am finding myself reconnecting with that passion i felt myself years ago, when i discovered that overwhelming need to perpetually write. it was a time when i felt so alone in a myriad of ways.

but writing saved me during those tough times. it lifted me up when i was down. it infused me with a sense of invincible power when i felt powerless. it allowed me to spell the blood of my soul into black and white text and reconcile the mish-mash of complex emotions i felt raging in me when i felt lost and confused.

older nin

it was around that time, when i was discovering just how much i needed writing that i discovered the raw, decadent beauty of henry miller's tropic of cancer, then nin's collection of erotic short stories, delta of venus. i then began researching and collecting as many texts by and about them as i could get my hands on, and during the course of that, promising new horizons appeared in my mind. thereafter, the art of writing was just never the same for me ever again.

i have lost sense of this in recent years. i still write, yes. but not with the same intensity and sense of connectedness i had before. oh, it comes in waves here and there; every now and then, i can lose myself to the internal driving force and let my heart speak through the written word.

however, i think overall, i somewhere, somehow, stopped writing as a means to my own end.

i used to write letters that remained unsent. i would pour out all the emotions, good and bad, that were evoked by certain people, into words, and doing so allowed me to control the tempestuous emotions i felt about them – so that when i next saw them, i did not have all the emotions still raging, pent up and unreleased, inside. sure, they never saw my words. but nonetheless, the unsent letters were something i just had to do, else i would lose my mind over whatever emotions were raging in me.

i am glad to have rediscovered anaïs nin as my soul sister. it was amazing when i first felt that connection with her, as one writer to another. and i've only felt it once before, with henry miller's writing.

in a general way, they are quite similar as writers. they weave their words in unconventional ways, mixing unparalleled metaphors and descriptors, choosing verbs that renovate, reincarnate, and even mutilate conventional meanings. it is such a mind-blowing mind-fuck to read them.

henry miller

but stylistically, they are so different. henry miller, the writer, fucks your mind so violently and with such savageness, that you are left feeling powerless, helpless – but desiring of even more of his violence. anaïs nin, the writer, fucks your mind, too, but she makes love tenderly and with such a lingering longing that it leaves you poignantly aching.

brilliance. that is all i can say. :)

in at least one or two passages in henry and june that i've read thus far, nin writes about how she cannot fall in love or give physically of herself based on physical attraction alone; her heart and mind must also be stimulated.

it is also clear that she did not fall in love with henry until they began exchanging love notes within a few months of meeting each other. before then, nin had enjoyed his writing and been affected by the strength of the poetry in his prose but disliked him as a man. her dislike of him also stemmed from a sense of jealousy that this was the man who possessed june, a woman with whom she had by then fallen in love.

but one day, after june had long since returned to america and miller and nin began hanging out together and feeling the stirrings of a connection between then, miller confessed to her that he had written a love note to her. nin wanted to read it, and when she did in the privacy of her rooms later, she found herself surprised and touched by the sensitive, delicate sincerity of the love note -- enough to want to write one to miller in response.

and thusly, their love bloomed.

in her diary, nin states that she was seduced as much by miller's writings – in the form of his stories as well as his love notes – as much as anything else. and this is something i connected with as well.

i've fallen in love purely through the exchange of love notes as well. i believe that i can see straight to a person's soul through their writing alone in a way that i may not be able to in face-to-face communications. writing can convey many things the spoken word cannot. it requires the writer to focus and think about what she wants to say on paper, and the time it takes for the hand to write out what the mind wants it to is enough to make each word purposeful and deliberate – which makes, say, the exchange of a love note all the more compelling.

in recent years, i have wondered if there is something wrong with me. i am such a complete machiavellian in real life. because it's so easy for me to flip a switch and be whoever and however i want to be, depending on who i'm interacting with, it leaves me kind of jaded, and i can sometimes feel so disengaged from everyone, even i'm in a roomful of people.

that's why when i fall in love with someone, it can never be based purely on face-to-face interaction. i tend to fall in love with the words that the person can weave. words ensnare me. but i am willing prey. i want to be ensnared by words. it is thus no wonder that when i've fallen in love, i've fallen in love with writers, people who captured my attention and mind with their prose.

i feel good now. no shame in the fact that i can be moved and swayed by a person's ability merely to string words together in such a way that leaves me heady and breathless. and there is nothing wrong with the compulsion to write that leaves you incapable of continue to engage with your daily life until you have satisfied the urge to unleash the words burgeoning in your mind.

no shame in it whatsoever.

i think the art of writing gets so lost sometimes, so unappreciated – especially these days. writing is not a means to an end. it's not even just a mode of expression. there is something even more elevated about the written word than most people give it credit for.

but i am being so verbally peripatetic.

i guess what i really feel like saying, in short, is that . . . .

i just really, really like good writing.

:-T

continued indeciveness

my recent trip to go visit campus and attend the grad school orientation/meet-and-greet illuminated just how hard it would be for me to drop everything that i know right now to move there and start going to school again.  and it also highlighted, for me, just how much i love my job.

 

don't get me wrong.  i love academia with a passion that i do not feel for anything else.  when i was there at the school, milling with the other grad students – some of them rather nice and decent and others cocky and arrogant as hell – i felt . . . simultaneously confident – yet distant.

 

when it comes to making decisions, even those that i anticipate making in the days, weeks, months ahead, what i ultimately do is just go with my feelings.  my gut instinct.  my own impressions.  during my visit to grad school, my gut was telling me . . .

 

. . . i can do this.  i can conquer and destroy this program.  i can be the pioneer i want to be in my chosen field.  all these people will bow to me.

 

(yes, i really thought all this.  aren't i so goddamned conceited?  :-T)

 

there was one cocky son of a bitch i met, though. a really good-looking guy who is new to the program.  he hails from texas and speaks with a lazy drawl.  he already has a masters degree as well.

 

i don't know how, but the two of us managed to get stuck together, so we tried to chit-chat.

 

but seriously, we had nothing in common.  i did not want to talk to him any more than he wanted to talk to me.  i could see it in his eye that he felt the same.  i tend to speak with rapid-fire words; my mind often races far ahead of my mouth, and my mouth tends to want to try to keep up.  he spoke in a slow intonation and often had to ask me to repeat myself.

 

other than him, i also recognized the faces of some of the faculty and a few of the students i had spoke with during my initial visit to the program.  i watched them and felt there was a huge gaping chasm separating me from them.  i wasn't sure if i belonged.

 

if/when i become an academian, i do not want to be like the usual type of academian.  academians can sometimes get caught up in the world that exists in their classroom or in their own particular theoretical field.  i want whatever my livelihood is to be to have real-world implications that extend even further than the classroom i teach in or the particular field of literary thought that i want to conquer.  sometimes when i look at academians, i totally admire them, and i also envy them because their minds can process abstract theories and thoughts and creatively delve into them.  but there have been times in my educational history when i have listened to or read their stuff – and while i may end up being totally dazzled by their thought processes and presentation of their ideas, i still have ended up wondering, "so fuckin' what?!  what's the real-world implication of all this shit?  what kind of productive use do these ideas have?"  and i often find myself sardonically answering these questions with one word:

 

"none."

 

do things happen for a reason?  is there a greater purpose behind events, whether that come about due to sheer randomness or purposeful deliberation?  am i supposed to know what the hell i want to do with my life right now and be all adult-like and grown up?  why is it that i do not know my life's purpose quite yet?

 

i know i could kick butt as an academian.  when i was doing my masters, it took a while for me to really find my groove.  but once i did and i got totally comfortable in my chosen fields, i found it exhilarating to read up on other scholars' works and find ways of increasing my understanding and engagement in the field.  it is tedious and time-consuming, yes – but – i'm sorry, this is my nerdiness coming through – i found it thrilling just to be able to intellectually feel engaged in all that.

 

the only thing that is holding me back at this point is . . .

 

. . . the fact that i'm rather in love with my job.

 

:-T

 

it's not so much the job but my co-workers.  they seriously are cool peeps!  i've already began to make a number of good friends among them.  what's interesting is that i just get along with everyone, even the weird peeps that no one really likes.  it has gotten to the point that it is noticeable that i am pretty much friends with everyone at this point, and i am now teased for not just being a "social butterfly," but also for having so many bffs.

 

there is also at least one male co-worker who is interested enough in me that he asked another co-worker to see if i'd be interested in being set up with him.  this has happened twice – two different female co-workers asking me if i would be interested in hooking up with so-and-so.  one of the girls mentioned a name, the other didn't, so i don't know if it was the same guy . . . .  nonetheless, it was totally awkward – or at least i felt all awkward internally.  but luckily, when i said, "thanks, but no thanks," the matter was dropped, and it was all just left at that.

 

but really, how can i not be in love with my co-workers?  every day, someone ends up saying something really nice to me.  this week alone, i have been complimented several times for being "stylish" (i really do just wear the same boring things over and over – but i mix it up by also throwing on colorful accessories, like beaded jewelry, belts, sashes, cute necklaces, wristbands and bracelets, etc.  i swear, this is a result of all my years studying catalogs from jcrew, bebe, urbanoutfitters, anthropologie, and free people!), "easy-going" to the point where everyone loves me, and being the type of person who sees the silver lining behind every cloud.

 

see?  i totally have them fooled.  if only they knew i was totally gripy, mean, and crusty behind this mask of cheerfulness.

 

:-T

 

;)

 

and really, it's just great to have my ego stoked day in and day out by them.

 

:-D

 

besides the people, the job itself is totally fine, too.  in fact, more than fine.  :)  i've totally gotten into the swing of things, and the duties just promise to get even more complex and progressively increase to be at an even higher level – which i find to be a privilege because it just shows that my bosses have quickly come to have faith in me.  i already have solid relationships with management that other people at my level and even some of those above me do not have.  the job entails me doing things that have real-world implications.  like, the things i do require me to help my department show that they are, in good faith, trying to live up to the terms of that major-assed settlement that they entered into to ensure that the state's pr!s0n inm@tes' constitutional rights are not infringed upon during the time of their incarceration.

 

it would just be so hard to tear myself away from this job just when it was starting to get so good. . . . and promises to get even better.

 

i'd be a total fool if i left. . . .

 

and it is the only major thing holding me back.

 

but there are other things, too.

 

like, i'm my momma's number one go-to person when she needs help or just wants to talk or just needs company.  my leaving would put an end to that.  not that we did not go through that before, when i lived in the beehive state.  but i'd still feel guilty.

 

and then there are my grandparents.  they're really getting on – although still as spry as ever!  the only reason i go to big ol' family gatherings, risking everyone asking me about the bar and the ensuing feelings of shame that may come about, is because of them.  i just love them so very much and want to be around for them as much as i can.

 

and then there is my little pooch, my little baby, my cute lil' chihuahua.  i don't think i can uproot her and take her with me . . . .  i would have to wait and see, but if i could not be at home and give her all the t.l.c. she needs, then that would just suck.  i would want her with me, but i think for at least a semester, i'd have to see how things go and let her live at my momma's house.

 

thinking about it all, about that decision i have to make . . . it stresses me out more than it probably should.  i wish i could just make a decision right now and just get it over with and be able to plan my life accordingly.  all this hesitant wishy-washiness that i go through is starting to get annoying even for me. . . .

 

:-P

 

but i just need to be patient.  i still have a few more months until the year.  anything can happen. . . .  and i'm sure things will fall into place and i will know my destiny if i just remain patient for a little while longer. . . .

 

:-T

observation of the day

there was a funky smell in the air when i got up to grab my print job from one of the printers.

 

it hit me as abruptly as if i happened to run into an actual wall.

 

a crease furrowed my brow as i concentrated on trying not to let a look of disgust cross my face.  i made a note to myself to surreptitious spray some of my glade air freshener, with its clean-linen scent, when i got back to my desk.

 

as i returned to my cube after grabbing my print job, i happened to glance over at someone who sat at her own desk.  her cube is about ten feet away from mine.

 

and she was eating a cold hard-boiled egg.

 

:-/

 

note to self: do not eat hard-boiled eggs while in the proximity of other people.  not that you eat hard-boiled eggs on a normal basis anyway.  but if you do, eat it in the safety of a private setting so that others will not be offended by the smell and end up wondering who the hell had the nerve and the indecency to cut the cheese in such a foul manner.

 

:-P

 

:-T

 

:-D

oath

see this walsh gal and may-treanor chick?

these are seriously bangin' bods.

like, HOT!

i didn't watch the olympics very much (like, at all). nonetheless i'm inspired by the whole big show -- namely, by the physical state of the female competitors.

i thus have a new quest:

to be as sculpted as they by the end of the year.

this is me at my last race:

ignore the fact that i'm nipply in the pic. dude. it was cold that morning! also ignore my pasty-white skin color; i did not have time to sunbathe at that time since i was studying for the bar and stuff in those days.

:-T

seriously. i know. don't tell me. i'm not as bad as i could be. i'm not like this, for instance:

but still, i do need lots of work done. and i want to do it -- i want to make myself look and feel better like i know i can! for starters, my totally unsculpted arms! i used to have arms that were more toned than that! and my tummy is not even remotely as sculpted as that of either the lovely ms. walsh nor ms. may-treanor; in fact, as i poke myself in my gut, there is a substantial amount of squishiness moving around under my finger. my legs have held out well so far and have always been one of my own favorite features -- but my upper thighs are starting to give visible indications of how badly i've been eating lately. and yes, my current physical state is much worse today than that pic, which was only taken a month ago on july 4th, would otherwise indicate. overall, i think i'm 10 pounds away from my ideal weight.

:(

so dude. it's ON! diet begins as of tomorrow as will a hard-core work-out regimen. i want to be able to do a half-marathon by the end of the year and have a sculpted bod.

first day of school

back from my three-day weekend.  :)

 

traffic was an absolute bear this morning!  it is the first day of school for all the little schoolboys and schoolgirls today, at all the local elementary and elementary schools as well as the colleges.  so the streets were just packed more than what i've been used to these past few months, with avid parents totin' off their young 'uns and eager-beaver college students trying to make it to their first classes on time for the day.  for them, the summer is over.

 

it just makes me shake my head when i encounter this kind of traffic.  i live in the boonies, virtually.  just ten years ago, my area used to be nothing but pure country side.  houses were separated from each other by at least a couple of acres.  in fact, there used to be a wide, vast field that covered most of the block that was owned by a slaughterhouse; herds of large cows with dull eyes would be rotated from one part of the field to another to graze before meeting their ultimate fate at the slaughterhouse. 

 

now, though, those vast fields on my block, which had been owned by that slaughterhouse, have disappeared, and most of what used to be empty land now consists of housing subdivisions built packed close together.  there are already four times as many elementary and secondary public schools in the are than there were when i grew up there.  bel air supermarkets and walgreen's stores now abound on almost every block.  so many people, it's obnoxious.

 

suburban sprawl.

 

not a fan.

 

:-T

 

so that was what i fought off this morning as i sludged my way to work.  while i technically still live in the boonies myself, i only have to go half a block north in order to encounter suburban sprawl where the housing divisions start creeping up into my neck of the woods.  each block is exactly one mile long.  i only had to drive one-and-a-half blocks up this morning before i encountered a long-assed line at a four-way stop sign, which took me about 20 minutes to be able to get through.

 

no complaints, though.  seriously.

 

:)

 

i got back from my three-day vacay yesterday evening at 7-ish.  i've got a lot of thoughts to share about my trip as well as some illuminations that are already helping to shed light on what the hell i should decide to do about this whole grad school matter.  but i'll save those thoughts for my next post because i want to be able to explore those thoughts in a particular way.

 

they are starting school over there right now, too, at my grad program.  classes start today.  do i feel like i should be right there with them right now, getting ready to attend classes myself?  or am i good with how things are right now, here at work?

 

i've got a number of different feelings, some of them conflicting.  but like i said, my next couple of posts will be dedicated to this whole issue.

 

:-T

 

anyway, by way of update, i just wanted to say that last week, in the first few working days after dimples and i recovered from our hot but drunken exchange on the dance floor at the local club, things were . . .

 

kinda awkward. 

 

:-P

 

i came into the office the following monday feeling mellow but curious about how she would react; and she acted kinda awkward and nervous.  i tried to put her at ease by just behaving normally.

 

the following day, she seemed fine and acted totally normal, but then it was my turn to feel all awkward and shy whenever i was around her.  i do not know why, really.  but so i tried to avoid her as much as possible.

 

then the next day, it was a split, and we both just kind of did our own thing and didn't really have anything to do with each other.  and that was just kind of that, because she was off on thursday and friday, and then i was off on friday.

 

this morning, i caught her watching me.  i was sitting at my cube, and she was talking to a couple of co-workers across the office.  i happened to look up over my cube wall in her direction, which is about shoulder-level when i'm sitting at my desk.  our eyes met for a few brief seconds before i turned kind of skittish and went back to work.  a few moments later, when she breezed by my desk to say hi, she called me by the new nickname she had affectionately christened me on the night we went bowling.

 

i know she likes me.  and i like her.  i think she's super cute.

 

but no, i'm not going to go there.  like, at all.

 

:-T

 

oh well.  anyway, lordy.  this morning here at work, i'm doing everything wrong already. 

 

*sigh*  fuck!

 

today's just going to suck.  i'm real tired from my little trip.  today's just going to be all about getting my bearings back and trying not to screw up everything that happens to cross my desk . . . .

 

happy monday.

 

:-T

deleted

original post is gone.

let's stare at selma blair instead. :)

a dream deferred

by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore --
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over --
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=

i'm off on yet another trip as of tomorrow. :)

but it will be just another short one. i start driving out tomorrow night-ish in the hopes of arriving to my destination by noon-ish on friday. it is no big deal -- i don't even have to go -- but my grad program is having its new grad student orientation friday afternoon with a small dinner party thing at a local mexican restaurant later in the evening.

as i mentioned before, i've deferred admissions for a semester. but i thought it would be good to go to this orientation now anyway and re-visit the city and school and also acquaint myself with some of the students i will/might be seeing regularly starting next year. even though i've deferred, i still am feeling the same ol' butterflies i've felt in my stomach before, every time a new school year or even a new semester started.

i love school.

i love the institution. i love learning new ideas. i love exploring and maybe even defeating old ideas. i love reading and writing. i love interacting with people who are like-minded. i totally miss it all.

the problem is . . . whereas i really liked my job before . . . .

i really love it now.

:-T

i've worked at this office for about four and a half months now. about two months was spent working for the special assistant to the Big Cheese. then i finally got assigned to Big Dude. i realized only after being assigned to Big Dude that i had only been placed under the special assistant only as a way for there to be a kind of placeholder for me until there was actually a formal position set up for me (yes, especially for me!) under Big Dude. i find it a stroke of good fortune that i worked for the special assistant, not only professionally but personally because of the people i got to meet and work with.

but i don't like thinking in terms of that, though. i don't decide to meet people or to like them because of all that political/opportunist bullshit. for instance, because i was able to work with the special assistant, i came to be fast but good friends with another girl my age who happened to have the office adjoining mine. i never actually worked with her on anything, but because of our similar ages, tastes in clothes, opinions, etc., we just totally hit it off -- and already i consider her to be a great, dear friend. she's super cool.

it just so happens that she happens to occupy a pretty high position at the office, though. and so what bugs me is that when people learn that she and i are friends, they say, "oh, how great!" and then add something like, "it's good to have a friend like that!" accompanied with a knowing wink.

it just makes me think:

FUCK THAT.

i like her because i like her. our personalities click. we always have a ball when we hang out. while i respect what she's achieved -- and yes, she's quite accomplished -- none of that really has any bearing on anything about our friendship at all.

so people better not be thinkin' i'm friends with her for any reason other than the fact that i just like her!! seriously, is that so hard to believe??

:-P

and really, i'm confident enough in my own self to know that i have everything i need in me to succeed in whatever the hell i want. i don't need anyone else! i'm insecure about myself in a number of ways -- whether i'm pretty or not, whether i'm skinny or not, whether i'm attractive or not -- but i'm not insecure about what i can achieve based on my own abilities. i don't need money, power, friends in high places, or any of those kinds of shenanigans. it's all me, thank you very much!

god. i sound smug.

:-T

but case in point: something stellar kinda happened at work today.

ever since i started working for Big Dude, i've just been kind of plugging away at trying to get a lot of stuff that's been backed up for a while done. the new york times recently published an article about the main issues currently facing my office, and the sacbee had a really good article out at around the same time as well. a lot of the work i've been doing is kind of the same ol' bureaucratic routine of pushing papers around -- but the reason for having to do it is also totally necessary, obviously, so that we can create an auditable trail.

so i've just been really plugging away at stuff, doing everything i'm asked to do these past couple of months as best i can.

and then i finally get awarded with this statement by Big Dude this afternoon, literally out of nowhere, just before i take off for the day:

i've been noticing in your work that you have really great writing and analytical skills. so what i'm envisioning your role to be is this: you'll be taking up the writing of our [Majorly Big-Assed, All-Important Report!!!!]. we'll take it as slow as you need to and just have you start off writing sections, but in the long-run, i see you being the one reading all the audit reports and writing out the [Majorly Big-Assed, All-Important Report!!!!], and i'll be the one who will just kind of help you along and refine it as we go.

:-D <---------- that's me beaming

now, the idea of reading really dry audit reports and then writing a similarly dry report (which spanned over 100 pages for the last one) not once but four times a year kind of already makes me feel like yawning.

:-T

but it's still pretty huge. it's a doc that goes all the way up the chain of command of the executive and legislature in the state of cah-lee-foh-nya.

so i called my friend -- the one i mentioned at the beginning of this post -- to tell her all about it, and she is super stoked for me. in fact, she totally squealed. "this is huge!" she told me. "congratulations!"

and i was just all, "thanks!"

:)

seriously, i'm at a good spot professionally right now. i'd be a fucking idiot if i just dropped everything . . . .

but at the same time, i see that ph.d. in front of me, as much as it always has been, a proverbial carrot danging before my hungry eyes.

i can't postpone that, either. what does it say when only one program out of eight accepts you?

it says that you're not competitive enough.

i fear that if i postpone it, i'll lose my chance to get my ph.d. completely. plus, i'm 28. ph.d. programs are typically 4 to 8 years long -- although as an over-achieving vietgrrl, i would totally try to make sure i didn't stay in the program for as long as 8. but even if i started next year, already i'm starting the program a little too late -- at least later than i had originally planned for. . . .

i thought deferring admissions for a semester would help me to decide.

but it only seems to have made the whole dilemma even more complicated. . . .

:-T

it's all good. it's only august. i still have a few more months to see how things go on both sides. anything can happen to propel me towards strongly favoring one over the other for good.

there's still quite a ways to go.

:)

not crossing the line

one of the reasons why i will likely never write a good-sized novel until i'm at least 60 is because i have a short attention-span. i can't commit to writing a whole entire story -- if there is something else i'd much rather write about.

so that's why i'll save finishing up the story on my prior post for another day. in the meantime, there's another story on my mind to write about.

i mentioned one or two posts ago that a few of my co-workers were planning on getting together again. it was arranged that we'd all meet up for bowling this past friday night, at 9 p.m.

so we did.

there were eight of us -- three guys and five girls -- and we split into two teams and played in two adjoining lanes. i had arrived at the bowling alley with my office b.f.f., the vietgirl. also there was flip girl, the b.f.f. of my archnemesis, laos girl. laos girl herself had not come, for which i was glad. and the other girl there who is worthy to note is another cool person from my office whom i shall call dimples because -- well, i think she has really cute dimples.

:)

dimples is mexican-american, a single mom of a daughter who recently had her first birthday. she is a couple of years younger than me. she wears really cute glasses and is really pretty.

we bowled for almost three hours. i had a hot start, getting four strikes in my first game. i was definitely the best girl player there.

;)

but the more we drank, the worse my game got. by the end of our last game, i'd had maybe four pints of beer and a shot of jager. i barely finished the last game above sixty. of course, the guys were steady and strong throughout. one of them ended up scoring over 200 by the end of the last game.

throughout the night, the bowling alley progressively got darker and darker until all the main lights were turned off. hip-hop music blared, and music videos were showing on two big flat screens that hovered at the end of the bowling lanes. retro strobe lights threw rainbows of colors that rotated crisply all around the building.

sometimes when i drink, i often go all quiet. it does not mean i'm having a bad time or anything; it just means that the alcohol is having an effect on me, and i just don't feel like doing anything but sitting quietly. so when it was not my turn to bowl, i would sit apart from the others.

and okay, maybe it means i'm not having the best time. but it doesn't mean i'm having a bad time.

:-T

vietgirl was concerned about my quietness and kept checking up on me. "are you having fun? you're not having fun, are you?" she kept asking. it was kind of annoying, but i just kept reassuring her that i was indeed having fun.

as the night wore on, dimples also started getting friendlier with me. she and i rarely talk at the office. i guess it's just shyness on both our parts. oddly enough, we both work in the same exact unit; it's just that our job tasks are so different that our paths don't really cross. her desk is maybe four cubes away from me. she often passes by mine whenever she has to talk to her boss. but except for a few cursory greetings and small talk, we've never said anything substantial to each other.

but on this night, dimples began getting really friendly with me. the beer must have been getting to her, too. she started talking candidly about our office. i learned some interesting things from her about my own boss. of course, it's all second-hand gossip. ;) and yet where there's smoke, there's fire, right?

when it got close to midnight, dimples still wanted the night to continue. all three guys and one girl said they were going to call it a night. but flip girl, vietgirl, and i were game to go. "where do you wanna go?" i asked dimples.

"let's go to faces!" she said.

for non-sactown residents, faces is a really popular gay club downtown. not that there are very many to choose from, mind you, but it is still a pretty good, fun club.

i was surprised by her choice, though. what's a straight girl doing, suggesting going to a gay club? but i was still amenable. and i could see from the expressions of the other two girls that they were game, too.

but i had a sudden moment of instantaneous doubt. "but what about our clothes?" i said looking down at my attire. i was wearing a tank, jeans, and a pair of converse slip-ons. i had dressed solely for the purpose of bowling, not clubbing.

the other two scrutinized themselves. "yeah," they said, too. "we're not dressed for clubbing!"

but dimples waved her hand at us. "who cares? we look fine -- let's just go!"

so we did.

i offered to drive since i was not as bad off as they were, and we all piled into my car. we got to the club about twenty minutes later and headed straight to one of the dance rooms.

as far as i can tell, faces has three dance rooms. each room was packed. but we made space for ourselves on the dance floor and started dancing.

it'd been a while since i'd gone dancing. i didn't realize how much i missed it until i felt and heard the loud beats ripping through me. i let myself get lost in the music.

so the four of us started dancing together in our own little circle. after a short while, dimples started dancing with me. she held me at my waist, and i let my arms go around her, and we started grinding our hips in time to the music. i didn't think much of it. when i go clubbing with my straight girlfriends, we all sometimes dance together. it's fun -- plus, it helps to ward off any interruptions from guys who want to mack on us.

there was a brief moment of drama during the first ten minutes we were dancing, though. some butch asian girl had pushed through us rather rudely in order to cross the dance floor. dimples didn't like that -- and she pushed the butchie right back. vietgirl and i had to step in between the butch asian and dimples to make sure things didn't escalate. but i also thought it was kind of hilarious. who knew dimples had a crazy temper, especially when drunk?

after a while, we took a break from dancing to take some shots.

i insisted that the shots be on me, so while i waited at the bar, dimples started hugging me from behind, still dancing in time to the beat. i noticed that the big black girl next to me did not take kindly to it because, as dimples gyrated against me from behind, she kept jostling the big black girl. moments later, after we all had taken our shots, there was another fight to be broken up before it even got started when the big black girl knocked over a tall glass of long island iced tea so that it spilled all over dimples. but thankfully, we held dimples back again and mouthed off some insults to the big black girl. we used a towel that the bartender tossed a towel at us to get ourselves, especially dimples, all cleaned up.

despite the drama, once we got back to the dance floor, it was back to having fun. the four of us started dancing together again, and it was not long before dimples turned all her attention on me again. this time, the hands that pulled me to her were more insistent, more daring, more sure. at first, she kept her hands at my back, but soon they began to roam freely, caressing me all over.

at first, my mind was all, like, "WHOA." before, i could dismiss her actions as being the result of a bi-but-mostly-straight girl just going with the flow and having a good time. but now, she was being more assertive, more determined, and her hands were brushing my breasts in a fairly non-accidental manner.

in my mind, i was just all:

O_O

not that i was going to fight it, mind you. i am not adverse to a cute latina chick -- whom i now also saw was spunky and hard core as hell, to boot -- feeling me up like that.

;)

but it still surprised me.

nonetheless, i let my hands ride on her hips at first, and i slipped my fingers under the waistband of her jeans so that i could use her pants to pull her in closer to me. our breasts fitted together and she slipped a leg between mine.

what i love about going clubbing is that the music lets you do so many things that are as close to fucking as possible -- but is not actually fucking. and so we moved together, she and i, our chests rubbing and our crotches undulating together. i let my hands wander as freely as hers did. i relished in the feel of her flesh under my hands; she is such a little hottie. her hands found its way underneath my top, and i felt her fingernails lightly scratching across the bottom of my back and then to the front, grazing across my stomach.

i felt my stomach clench in response.

i'm ticklish.

:-T

but i also saw that this girl meant business. i knew that she knew exactly what she was doing. she had known it from the start of frickin' bowling that she wanted us to come here and that she wanted to dance with me.

my mind was still in the "what the --?!" phase. i tried to remain vigilant because our two other friends were there as well. and even in my buzzed state of mind (and yes, i was getting to be very interested in where this was leading and growing just a tad bit aroused), i knew i had to be careful. i did not want flip girl to have fodder to take back with her to the office on monday that would give laos girl plenty to talk about.

plus, i have seen this before with girls who are presumably straight, who temporarily decide to become gay for a night, and then are back to being straight before you can blink your eye. such girls are trouble. they cause a lot of drama, even if they don't mean to. so i wasn't sure whether i should buy into dimples' otherwise overt, physical flirtation with me. who knew how she would feel about it the following day?

her hands were still on my back under my shirt, but one of them was making its way down even further. i felt her hand slip down into my pants, then into my underwear, to cup one of my ass cheeks. i was kind of surprised, so i reached behind me to pull her hand out. she stopped dancing in her tracks and made a sound of disappointment that i could hear even above the music, but i grinned at her. then as if to make up for it, i pulled her to me so that we could start dancing again. i still had her wrist in my hand, the one which i used to pull her hand out of my pants, so i pulled her arm up so that it was over my shoulder. we started dancing again.

soon her hands were up to their old tricks, sliding up and down over my back and down to my hips. she then let her hands sneak into my top again, and as her hand glided over the skin of my back, underneath my top, i moved my hands up her sides so that the bottom of my palms just grazed the sides of her breasts. i could tell she liked that teasing touch because she then turned her face to mine in an urgent, purposeful manner. her lips were seeking mine. her face nuzzled at mine, and i could feel her lips glide across my jaw.

i snuck a peek at the other two girls; they were still dancing and were not paying attention to us. so i bent my head so i could surreptitiously give dimples a small nip on her neck. i tasted the sweet saltiness of her skin. i then let my lips meander up her neck and over her cheek, before heading to her ear lobe; i wanted to take it gently into my mouth. but before i could, dimples suddenly stopped dancing and moved away.

"let's get out of here," i heard her say.

she grabbed me by the hand, and i let her lead me out of the dance room. she was being assertive -- i like assertive girls. i knew what she wanted. we were getting out of there so that we could find a private spot to start making out. but i knew she wanted more than just making out; i had felt how her body responded to my caresses, felt the urgency with which she had touched me.

we had only gone a few steps out of the dance room, though, when i looked back. sure enough, i saw the heads of the other two coming after us. i slowed down my steps and pulled dimples back. "they're coming," i murmured ruefully in her ear.

"where ya guys going?" vietgirl asked.

i saw that dimples was annoyed. okay, not just annoyed, but starting to get livid. this really was not her night, what with that butch asian chick trying to start shit and then having a drink get splattered on her. so i intervened quickly. "dude," i said. "know what i could really use?" and then i mimed smoking.

it was true. i wanted a smoke. i, who have not smoked and have had no desire to smoke since april, was really finally jonesing for one.

vietgirl herself used to smoke, but she quit about a year ago. surprisingly, though, she said she wanted one, too. so we set off on a quest to find cigarettes. dimples' hand was still in mind, so i gave it a reassuring squeeze to let her know i was disappointed, too.

we found some smokes, and yes, i had one or two that night.

okay, three.

fine, FOUR!

and by the time we left the club, it was 2 a.m., and the doors of the club were being closed. dimples was out of it. we carried her back to my car, vietgirl on one side and me on the other. it took a while, but dimples finally mumbled out her address, and we managed to get her home.

so no, dimples and i did not end up hooking up. and i guess it's all for the best. i don't think i would've ended up going there anyway. i would've made out with her, yes -- but not hook up. i'm too sensible -- and there are just enough red flags that would have, in the end, compelled me to do what i thought was best. which is not sleep with a co-worker, who is a single mom of a one-year-old and who is, at best, a straight-leaning bi girl.

:-T

still, though, i feel like i've been in a haze and that it's only recently that i've woken up from it. for the longest time, i was fixated on only one person; i felt that, despite all the odds and despite the circumstances, she was the one for me. and i could see no one else whom i wanted.

the ache that i still feel in my chest tells me i'm not quite over it yet. i'm still in love with her, and i'm not ready to let her go and move on. but seriously, at the same time, i'm also not going to lie and say i don't like having this recent bout of girls, including a cute albeit drunk co-worker, totally macking on me these past couple of weeks. :-T it's rather nice. but it really does make me feel like i've only just woken up out of some random, heavy reverie to find that, all of a sudden, there are girls waiting to mack on me.

it's odd, though-- flattering, but odd. odd because when that one person, who is the only one in the world you want, makes it known that she does not want you, then no amount of girls throwing themselves at you can ever make up for that.

well, at least, i haven't found the right number of girls to make up for that so far. but for sure, i'm willing to wait and see how many it'll take.

;)

anyhow, i'm curious as to how dimples will interact with me at work tomorrow. we exchanged a couple of text messages saturday afternoon, but they were just polite messages. i'm sure she remembers what happened but was just playing it safe. i hope things aren't going to be too weird; i've always liked her and think she's cool.

it'd be a shame if things were now awkward.

so i'm glad that we didn't cross that line.

yeah, it's no fun being the good girl all the time.

:-T

but it sure does allow me to tell some pretty interesting stories, huh?

;)

a night in the dual life of the girl no one really knows

i was standing at the crowded bar, leaning on the bar top, waiting for the bartender to notice me and take my order: a vodka cranberry for my friend and a cosmo for me. i had volunteered to go to the bar to get the drinks. there were four of us girls there, and we had gone to this bar, our second of the night, to meet up with another group of people, one of my friends' friends.

it was about 10:30 p.m., and since it was a friday, the place was already packed to the brim. i was wearing a patterned evening dress – a new one. i had liked the colors and also the way the straps criss-crossed at my back. it was cut rather low in a vee – like, the vee actually went below my line of cleavage. i was kind of self-conscious about it – yet i quickly forgot about it. hell, at least i had cleavage! my cleavage tends to make appearance perhaps only once every three years, so i have to appreciate it when it does pop up.

anyway, there was hardly any room at the bar to move, and a couple of people jostled me as they tried to get in closer to the bar. but i held firm, tried not to give up any more space than necessary (which was kind of hard, since i don't have much muscle mass), and patiently waited. after a few minutes, i felt something warm and soft nudge my left elbow. i took no notice of it, thought it was just another body bumping into me to make room for itself. but the warm softness persisted at my elbow, so i had to glance over to see what was going on.

first, i looked down at my elbow. i found (to my appreciation, of course) that there was someone's right breast pressing into my arm. it was about a C size – certainly not as small as my Bs. i then let my eyes roam up and found the face of the breast's owner smiling apologetically at me. because everyone at the bar was kind of jammed in with each other, her face was close to mine – closer than i'd expected, actually – and i saw that her eyes were dark. the faint bluish glow from the soft lamps overhead and playing across the back mirrors of the bar made the eyes seem darker than it otherwise would've been under natural light.

"excuse me," i murmured, as i drew in my elbow to give her room more access to the bar. and no, i wouldn't have given up that space if i did not find her attractive. :)

she was a pretty brunette girl who wore a purple halter-top dress and a silver necklace that caught glints of the soft blue light. she also wore some shiny bangles on her wrist. i tried not to stare too openly at her lips, but i had already noticed that they were an eye-catching pair that daringly shimmered from a recent dose of lip gloss.

this particular place we were at was supposed to be a gay bar. it has only recently opened, from what i hear. it sits right in the middle of the gay district (more like just a block :-P) of the downtown area. but on this night, there seemed to be as many straight people as there were queers, which made for a fairly eclectic but cheery crowd.

the bartender was still hurriedly making drinks, rushing like mad from one corner of the bar to the other, to fill someone else's order. he had noticed us, though, and given me a nod to signify that he knew i was there and that he'd get to me as soon as he could. but it apparently was still not quite my turn yet. i turned to the girl and gave her a faux exasperated look and a smile. she caught my eye, grinned at me in return, and nodded to show she got my gist. then she leaned in and called out into my ear (the place was pretty loud), "pretty packed tonight, huh?"

"sure is!" i said to her in return, with a mock roll of the eyes. "but it's great! this is my first time here – and i'm liking it so far." oops, i winced inwardly to myself. is that too much of a blatant come-on? i hadn't meant it that way!

but she didn't notice – or maybe she pretended not to. "oh, it's your first time here?" she asked. "i've been here a few times, and it's always like this! people like to come here and drink before they go [across the street to another gay club] for dancing!"

"nice!" i said. "well, i hope i get to have at least a few drinks now" – i nodded my head pointedly in the direction of the bartender – "in case my friends decide to take off and do the same!"

she laughed and said, "me, too!"

there was a pause as we continued to wait at the bar. there was another woman at my back – a very large one, by the feel of her huge breasts at my back, the heat i instantly felt emanating at my back, and the sight of a large arm that thrust past my right side to land on top of the bar. the palm looked thick and fleshy. she tried to press adamantly against me to make room for herself. i gritted my teeth, said, "oh, HELL no!" to myself, and tried to hold my ground. when i held firm, the body at my back stopped trying to wedge itself through, but it still remained pressed up against me. i could feel the contours of both the boobs and the tummy and began snidely thinking malevolent thoughts about the owner of said boobs and tummy.

but thankfully, the girl with whom i was speaking began distracting me from the pushy stranger at my back with some small talk – and i was glad for the chance to converse with her. unfortunately, her breast was no longer pressing at my elbow, but instead, we were now shoulder to shoulder. she was wearing kitten heels, but even if she weren't wearing them and i was not wearing my own heels, i could tell that she would be a bit taller than me, although not by much. and she had a long graceful neck. i had to read her lips in addition to craning my head to try to catch her words since it was so loud, and there was also some pop techno remix playing in the background. but to tell the truth, i did not mind having to look closely at her lips and lean in closely to her in order to converse with her.

"so are you planning to go over to [the gay club across the street] once you get done here?" i simultaneously saw and heard her asking me. our eyes met, and i smiled at her, but i was also smiling inwardly to myself. she was feeling me out, but in a safe way. she didn't know whether i was really queer or not. but it was also kind of an invitation to possibly meet over there and maybe dance. i liked it – it told me she was liking me as much as i was liking her. i felt a familiar tingle of excitement spread in me. i tried to suppress it, though, because i knew, no matter what, i would end up not going down that path. not tonight.

so i gave her a rueful look along with my smile. "i'm not sure. i'm here with a bunch of people." i nodded in the direction of where my friends sat scattered across 2 round tables. i saw one of my friends give me a raised eyebrow. i knew she was asking where her vodka cranberry was. i shrugged helplessly at her to let her know i hadn't had my order taken yet. then i turned back around and continued talking to the girl next to me, letting my eyes linger on hers to let her know that i was interested in going and that i would if i could. "i'll have to see what they end up doing."

finally the bartender came to me. i smiled gratefully at him and gave him my order. the girl next to me then said, "well, my friends and i will be heading there in about an hour. if you do head there, you should come look for us." we smiled at each other, and i promised her i would if we went there. then my drinks came, and i laid some cash on the bar.

i carried the drinks back to the table. my friend took her vodka cranberry and thanked me, then said, "fuck, it took long enough!" i agreed, then sipped my cosmo delicately. it was delicious. it glided down my throat coolly as i swallowed it down, and then i could feel it nestle with a faint, small burst of fire in my tummy.

no one had seen my brief flirtation with the girl at the bar as far as i could tell. and that was fine by me. in fact, i wouldn't mind if they never knew it. because, you see, among perhaps 95% of the people i know, i'm not out. and among this group, i certainly was not out.

it's a double life i lead. there have been a few close calls, but for the most part, i have been successful at keeping the two lives, the two sets of perceptions, separate and distinct.

as soon as i started getting settled back at the table, i instantly came to regret my poor timing. the girls on my side of the table were talking about relationships. their relationships. as in, their straight relationships. actually, they'd been talking about it the whole evening, and i'd manage to deflect all conversation so that i didn't have to talk about my own self.

but after i had sipped my first sip of the cosmo, i knew i was in trouble when one of the girls turned to look at me and gave me a knowing look and smile and said, "your turn. so what's your story?"

"my story?" i coughed for a moment to give myself time to think. "um, what do you mean?"

"i mean, what's your story? you've heard all of ours tonight, so what's up with yours? tell us all the hot secrets about your men!"

i smiled at her and, for a brief second, thought about what i ought to say. "just say it," a ninny voice from the back of my head snapped at me. "say you're gay. what the fuck is wrong with you? just say it!" i ignored the voice. "i don't have a story," i told her. i couldn't help giving her a teasing, knowing smile; i knew i was being mysterious. all my friends think i try too hard to be mysterious.

but if only they knew. if only they truly knew what was at stake. then they'd see i wasn't trying to be mysterious as much as i was just trying to protect myself.

i saw the cutie pass by. she was gingerly carrying three drinks back to her own table. she caught my eye, nodded hello, and smiled as she walked by. i smiled back at her.

another friend who was sitting on my left noticed my exchange with the brunette. "oh, who's that?" she asked me. "friend of yours?"

"no," i said, as i tried not to take a second glance at the girl so that i could enjoy a last glimpse of her retreating away. from where i sat, i had a better view of her halter-top dress, and it looked great on her. as she walked away, i saw that the dress exposed the upper half of her smooth tan back. a part of me was disappointed; it would have been fun to see how far she wanted to take the flirtation. "we were just waiting at the bar together. it took forever! the bartenders were all busy!"

thankfully, my friends didn't read too much into my smiles with the girl. but my one friend didn't forget her original question. "you're so secretive!" she told me exasperatedly, but i could tell she was also kidding with me. "here we are, telling you all your secrets, and you're still holding out on us!"

i merely shrugged at her innocently. "there's really nothing to tell."

(to be continued . . . .)

(well . . . maybe . . . .)