May 24, 2004
adding the "up"i finally did it.
it had been an eventful weekend. (and, if i were as dedicated to blogging as i wish i were, i would've blogged more about it before more than 2 weeks had gone by. ahhh, c'est la vie.) that friday, i had run into the oomo (i.e., object of my obsession) and i'd had my little escapade with the artist. maybe i was full of myself. maybe i was feeling confident. i don't know why, but i did it. it had been coming for awhile...in fact, ever since i spotted the oomo in that recent production of the vagina monologues.
i had already tried to do it twice, in person, and couldn't get the words out either time. just panicked and backed off. it was too difficult, face-to-face. to look into those deep brown eyes that i have loved for so, so long, and say those words. yeah, so i'm a punk. i just couldn't do it.
so finally, one sunny sunday afternoon, i picked up the phone and called her. i told her that i couldn't stay "in limbo" any longer. that i felt like i had put my life on hold, and--while that had been my choice, and not her request--i couldn't do it anymore. that's not to say we couldn't ever get back together...just that i can't sit around waiting while she decides what she wants. i didn't get what i want, so...i guess it's time to find something else to want. so, in effect...i added the "up" to the "break" that we had been on for the last 6 months.
she said, "okay." that she missed me, but that she also "kind-of like[s]" where she is right now.
it was a brief conversation. it made me very sad. and i could tell she was crying, too. but i have to admit...i felt some relief. i felt a little more free. i have no idea where that freedom will take me. i don't even think i want to know.
i feel like i'm living a parallel life...or the life of someone else, entirely. it doesn't feel quite right. but it doesn't feel all wrong, either.
9:10 PM
May 11, 2004
the brickthe four of us hadn't been inside the door of the neighborhood pub for 30 seconds, and there he was. taking me by the waist and one hand, and spinning me around to some goofy country song on the jukebox. i laughed...4 apple martinis, more stoli vanilla/diet cokes than i had bothered to count, a few rousing games of darts (at which i kicked ass), the (wise) decision to give up my keys and plan to sleep over at kevin's, and FINALLY running into the "object of my obsession" a bit earlier in the evening (and getting her number)...all combined to have me feeling pretty good, and very laid-back.
he introduced himself. asked my name. where we'd just come from. what i "did". he said he was an artist...a painter. and that he was celebrating because a collection of his work had just been accepted by the local museum of art into their permanent collection. "yeah, right," i thought.
but strangely, his come-ons didn't bother me. he was sweet. charming. handsome, in a slightly "off" way. and i was only amused when, after i had told him that i was a lesbian and that this wasn't going to happen, he said he was going to sit right next to me and flirt with me, anyway. i just laughed. as long as i had put that out there...that it just wasn't going to happen...what was wrong with a little harmless flirtation? after all, i'm single now...i need the practice.
and i was looking pretty hot. a decidedly good hair day. black linen tunic with a mandarin-esque collar. loose, low-rise levi's that were fitting just right. my favorite black frye sandals that took forever to break in and have been resoled twice, but which i love. i looked good. hell...i'd date me.
i ordered a drink. kevin introduced me to the bar owner (clearly a jerk). i chatted with jeff, with greg, with kevin...and with keni. he showed me pictures of his beautiful nine-year-old son. he told me stories about when he was an mp (as in, military police). he talked about his artwork and an artists' exchange program that he'd done last year in europe.
it could have been the fact that he was an artist. it could have been that he was so into me. or it could have been simply that i was wasted and not thinking rationally.
but i think it was his eyes.
hazel. stunning in their intensity, and in their golden contrast against his cappucino-colored skin. when he looked at me, i couldn't look away. it was weird. i remember sitting there with this bemused look on my face...like, "i know i'm sitting here staring into your eyes, and that it makes NO sense, and it probably looks completely ridiculous if anyone's paying attention...but i can't stop." a little later, while we were all sitting at the bar in kevin's "dining room," keni and i were talking about something...music, i think...and mid-sentence, he leaned in to kiss me lightly...tentatively...while his eyes asked, "are you really gonna let me do this??" by the time he was finishing his sentence, post-kiss, i was thinking about how absolutely bizarre it was that the roughness of his goatee against my chin felt...different, but...surprisingly...not unpleasant. he took note of my response and kissed me again...this time, a little longer, a little less lightly. the third kiss was brimming with urgency, and my mouth opened to accept his tongue (and return the favor) before my brain could question it.
the feeling of being kissed like that...of being kissed at all...was exhilarating. i had been really "missing kissing"...since long before my girlfriend had moved out, even. but wow. once it was happening, once i was actually experiencing it firsthand, and not just in my head, i didn't think about this being not only a man, but a man i had just met. or about how it had been 18 years since i had last kissed a man like that. or about how i had assumed that my first real kiss after my recent breakup would be with a woman. sensation took over and i just stopped thinking altogether.
the next day, i would wonder what my friends had been thinking, watching this whole thing play out...their lesbian friend making out with a MAN! but at the time, i was living that particular moment and nothing else.
now...you have to realize how SO not me that is...to throw all caution to the wind and just do something because it feels good at the time, with no regard for consequence. i just don't work like that. at least not usually. not even after copious amounts of alcohol, or any other substance. i just don't do it. but there i was. doing that very thing.
not long after, jeff left to go home and greg and kevin were headed upstairs to bed. earlier, when i had accepted kevin's invitation to stay rather than risk a d.u.i. (or worse), i had figured it would be like last time...me sleeping in his spare bedroom, in my clothes. waking up early, disoriented, but alone. but this...this was a very different night.
i followed kevin and greg upstairs, and keni followed me. kevin walked in the spare room ahead of me and tossed a couple of condoms on the bed before bidding us good night and proceeding to his own room with greg. i laughed...like THAT was going to be necessary! i slipped out of my sandals and threw myself on the bed, fully clothed, still laughing.
keni wasn't laughing. he shook his head. "no," he said. "i want to see you."
he closed the door, then turned back to the bed and coaxed me to a sitting position. he raised my arms above my head and pulled off my shirt...then, the tank i was wearing under it. next, he unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, and slid them off. finally, he reached around me, kissing my shoulders, and unfastened my red bra, gently pulling it away from my body. i drew the line at my underwear...they were staying on. he was disappointed, but he acquiesced.
so there i was: always, always painfully self-conscious about my body, to the point where i'm rarely willing, or even able, to share it with anyone...almost completely naked. on a bed. with a man. a man who, inside of 10 seconds, was naked himself. his chiseled, tattooed, almost hairless body right next to mine. his lips on mine. his tongue in my mouth. his hands touching me...every part of me. not only did i not stop him...i encouraged him. i liked it. he felt good to me...warm. and present.
for the rest of the night and well into the morning, we alternated between frenzied groping and calm, quiet conversation while just lying there, tangled up in each other. he wanted to fuck, but he respected my boundaries (what few i had left) and didn't persist. he also wanted me to touch him...his penis...but i couldn't do it. i could barely even look at it...it was like, that brought me back to reality. and i wasn't ready for reality just yet.
"do i repulse you?" he asked, the confusion plain in his beautiful eyes. "no...if you did, i wouldn't be here." i don't know if he believed me, but i meant it. even so, i couldn't really explain what it was that i was feeling, or why i couldn't touch him the way that he wanted me to. the best i could muster was, "keni...i'm not the girl for you. and i need to go home."
he helped me dress, kissing the small of my back when i bent over to pick something up off the floor. he dressed, himself, and we went downstairs. greg had already left for work, but kevin was up and making coffee. "we didn't have sex," keni told him. "but please don't tell anyone we spent the night together. you know...not for me, but...to protect her...her reputation." i thought it was sweet. corny, but sweet.
on our way out, he stopped me just inside the door. "since this probably isn't going to happen again...i want to kiss you one more time." he put his arms around me and, continuing to ignore my protests of morning breath (mine), he kissed me. long and gently. like we'd known each other for years. like we were saying goodbye.
we thanked kevin and walked in opposite directions down the street, toward our respective cars. i sat there for a bit, letting him drive away before i pulled out. i caught up with him, though, at a red light a few blocks away. he looked at me in his rearview mirror, waved and, when the light turned green, made his turn.
i drove home, half convinced that this experience had been a dream. but my logic won the debate and allowed truth to settle in. "what the hell am i doing??", i kept asking myself over and over. but then i just laughed at myself. and smiled at the way that keni had somehow, miraculously, erased my inhibitions.
later, after some good weed, a long nap, and a lazy day, my curiosity got the best of me. suddenly, i had to see if i could find anything about him online. a single google search turned up bios...articles mentioning his european artist's residency...a couple of photos...online galleries of his work. and a press release about a collection of his work being donated, by a local corporation, to the museum of art.
maybe, just maybe...i inspired a painting.
7:33 PM
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