I am pretty sure this started when we were getting into her car and she unlocked my door before getting into the driver’s seat. This was our first sort-of-date I guess because only the two of us made plans and it was day time, and no alcohol was to be involved, at least initially.
Law School taught me of ‘rational thought’, which is blind, deaf, and mute to mirages/illusions/etc.! In fact, ‘rational thought’ dismisses mirages automatically, faster than an impulse purchase of a chewing gum at the cash register. Self-doubt, on the other hand, is still common, as remnant of my human and emotional nature. She says I should let her actions to speak louder than words...I try, agree, blink and blink, and wonder...than how the hell do I read you silence? Do I read it as an action, inaction? Do I isolate it, forget about it, take it as a hint, take it as it has nothing to do with me, take it as I am thinking everything is about me when it shouldn’t be...She would say I am thinking way too much about all this. I will disagree with her because I am, I have been, trained to argue and never concede. Never concede!
So as she approaches and unlocks the next to driver’s door and open it up for me. Twice. If this were a man, I would not think much of it; I will be glad that manners are still alive, oh how lucky am I to have snatched the last gallant bachelor in this state! For a second there, the same idea runs through my brain about her. Vanity takes control and I wonder...aw...aw...my lady may not subscribe to the proverbial lesbian categories, but I am definitely being tended like a real femme should! As I climb in the seat next to her, (even before I have thanked her!), as training demands that I do not open my mouth before thinking, I look around. Rational thought sort of...opens my eyes, illuminates my surroundings:
“Why did you do that?” I smile sweetly at her, batting my eyelashes, really, just hoping she confirms because I am her lady.
“Do what?”
“Open the door...um..I guess unlock the door for me?” at which she looks at me like I have gone crazy, lifts an eyebrow and, naturally, dismisses my question without an answer...I know, I know..I should have known better...talking about wishful thinking and insecurities!!
“I was just checking lady, you know!” I smile...hoping to soften the aggravation this sole question may have caused her. ”I just wanted to make sure I have not imagined, you know...maybe you are opening the door from the outside because your car’s door cannot open from the inside (heck, my old car did that!!)...you know, I didn’t want to get disillusioned this is all for me!”
She laughs. It appears she cannot believe I have even entertained this absurd notion. How do I convey to her that I feel flattered by the mere fact she is interested...possibly interested...yes?..no?..into me. This is exactly how the issue revolves inside my head too. These are not new things, they are as old as the time, judging from my lesbian educational literature. I just forget them and have to go back and re-read the ‘how to’s, blogs, other ways that people deal about it. Reading is ironically the only thing I can do correct!
Another irony, is reading into the very, very small things she does! Consider:
• The way she held just the tip of my index finger in her fist while we were watching a movie, tightly gripped (I even pulled slightly to make sure I am not imagining again); She did not let me really, really cuddle up to her, although I did, and kept on moving her arm when I was lightly touching the inside of her wrist...but my finger, she clutched tight, and the pressure and warmth of her fingers filled me up with so much anticipation and excitement I could hardly contain myself. I looked at her shortly chopped nails, which brought the excitement to a whole new level. I began entertaining the thought of these same fingers all inside of me...the next day she texted that I had been too fidgety and antsy and it kind of annoyed her.
• The way she let me slide my bare, cold feet underneath her on the couch, and than, lifted her legs every time I attempted to shove them even further underneath her to facilitate me; The sweet, wet rush from the weight of her warm body on top of my feet was almost unbearable. It hit my brain first unexpectedly and than completely transferred to the bottom of my stomach and between my legs. This only made me fidget more, checking...trying to slide my feet further, making sure I am not just imagining this before I can relax into my fantasy freely and comfortably.
• The way she lightly bit the upper left part of my lip for exactly three seconds; which stayed swollen for the next ten minutes and even though I did not eat at all that day because of how excited I have been waiting to see her, and was starving by now...i could not bare to put a bite in my mouth where her taste was still lingering, my heartbeat pulsing through my cracked, flushed lips...i have been biting them for days now, and she even kept on grabbing my hand and making me stop it every time she noticed I was doing it;
Every time she asks me what it is about her that I like so much..I want to laugh in her face because just saying ‘everything’ is so unsatisfactory, untrue, irrelevant, common, make-pretend, already-have-told-this-to-someone-I-am-sure-and-I-want-you-to-know-you-are-that-special. Who could possibly believe or be happy about that answer: “Oh...everything babe, really!” Really!?(did I just say this to her)!? I won’t even believe myself with that lame justification.
• The way she finished my crappy, stale beer, and got me a fresh one instead; The fact she drank from my glass, ate from my plate, my dirty plate and she almost just met me; for God sake’s my own mother doesn’t even do that!!
• The way she shoved me...few times;
• The way she smelled; she smells; it is different every time I see her, other than the first two times when her smell had completely disarmed me and as a result I have not shopped since. She smells like soft, clean laundry, comfortable, safe, like if she held me I would never want to move. Than as I breathe her in, a crazy, slightly dangerous and erotic note sneaks in, almost undetected to her other outside world. This note is just for me, just mine. Just mine. Just mine. Thinking about how it is intended for me...today, just now, it was intended for me, and although men or women before may have intended it too, for the first time this fact is significant enough to be noted. For the first time it makes me feel special and I have gone...I have done it again..sugar rush, first coffee of the day, wine, olives, strawberry short-cake crumbles, adderall, A’s in Law School, sea breeze, kitten cuddle...nothing compares to the rush I get just thinking about that deliberate smell she’s wearing. Just mine.
I wonder if this is what she means when she wants her actions to speak louder than words. I wonder if my neuroticism has driven her away every day; the inability to describe all these things to her, without becoming overwhelmed. She texts me that my excitement overwhelms her but I cannot stop, restrain, control myself, my thoughts; I want to escape...go outside of my head and just relax, take it easy, while making up a list of all the other small things she does.
Tonight, before I fall asleep, I’ll compile the remainder.
Law School taught me of ‘rational thought’, which is blind, deaf, and mute to mirages/illusions/etc.! In fact, ‘rational thought’ dismisses mirages automatically, faster than an impulse purchase of a chewing gum at the cash register. Self-doubt, on the other hand, is still common, as remnant of my human and emotional nature. She says I should let her actions to speak louder than words...I try, agree, blink and blink, and wonder...than how the hell do I read you silence? Do I read it as an action, inaction? Do I isolate it, forget about it, take it as a hint, take it as it has nothing to do with me, take it as I am thinking everything is about me when it shouldn’t be...She would say I am thinking way too much about all this. I will disagree with her because I am, I have been, trained to argue and never concede. Never concede!
So as she approaches and unlocks the next to driver’s door and open it up for me. Twice. If this were a man, I would not think much of it; I will be glad that manners are still alive, oh how lucky am I to have snatched the last gallant bachelor in this state! For a second there, the same idea runs through my brain about her. Vanity takes control and I wonder...aw...aw...my lady may not subscribe to the proverbial lesbian categories, but I am definitely being tended like a real femme should! As I climb in the seat next to her, (even before I have thanked her!), as training demands that I do not open my mouth before thinking, I look around. Rational thought sort of...opens my eyes, illuminates my surroundings:
“Why did you do that?” I smile sweetly at her, batting my eyelashes, really, just hoping she confirms because I am her lady.
“Do what?”
“Open the door...um..I guess unlock the door for me?” at which she looks at me like I have gone crazy, lifts an eyebrow and, naturally, dismisses my question without an answer...I know, I know..I should have known better...talking about wishful thinking and insecurities!!
“I was just checking lady, you know!” I smile...hoping to soften the aggravation this sole question may have caused her. ”I just wanted to make sure I have not imagined, you know...maybe you are opening the door from the outside because your car’s door cannot open from the inside (heck, my old car did that!!)...you know, I didn’t want to get disillusioned this is all for me!”
She laughs. It appears she cannot believe I have even entertained this absurd notion. How do I convey to her that I feel flattered by the mere fact she is interested...possibly interested...yes?..no?..into me. This is exactly how the issue revolves inside my head too. These are not new things, they are as old as the time, judging from my lesbian educational literature. I just forget them and have to go back and re-read the ‘how to’s, blogs, other ways that people deal about it. Reading is ironically the only thing I can do correct!
Another irony, is reading into the very, very small things she does! Consider:
• The way she held just the tip of my index finger in her fist while we were watching a movie, tightly gripped (I even pulled slightly to make sure I am not imagining again); She did not let me really, really cuddle up to her, although I did, and kept on moving her arm when I was lightly touching the inside of her wrist...but my finger, she clutched tight, and the pressure and warmth of her fingers filled me up with so much anticipation and excitement I could hardly contain myself. I looked at her shortly chopped nails, which brought the excitement to a whole new level. I began entertaining the thought of these same fingers all inside of me...the next day she texted that I had been too fidgety and antsy and it kind of annoyed her.
• The way she let me slide my bare, cold feet underneath her on the couch, and than, lifted her legs every time I attempted to shove them even further underneath her to facilitate me; The sweet, wet rush from the weight of her warm body on top of my feet was almost unbearable. It hit my brain first unexpectedly and than completely transferred to the bottom of my stomach and between my legs. This only made me fidget more, checking...trying to slide my feet further, making sure I am not just imagining this before I can relax into my fantasy freely and comfortably.
• The way she lightly bit the upper left part of my lip for exactly three seconds; which stayed swollen for the next ten minutes and even though I did not eat at all that day because of how excited I have been waiting to see her, and was starving by now...i could not bare to put a bite in my mouth where her taste was still lingering, my heartbeat pulsing through my cracked, flushed lips...i have been biting them for days now, and she even kept on grabbing my hand and making me stop it every time she noticed I was doing it;
Every time she asks me what it is about her that I like so much..I want to laugh in her face because just saying ‘everything’ is so unsatisfactory, untrue, irrelevant, common, make-pretend, already-have-told-this-to-someone-I-am-sure-and-I-want-you-to-know-you-are-that-special. Who could possibly believe or be happy about that answer: “Oh...everything babe, really!” Really!?(did I just say this to her)!? I won’t even believe myself with that lame justification.
• The way she finished my crappy, stale beer, and got me a fresh one instead; The fact she drank from my glass, ate from my plate, my dirty plate and she almost just met me; for God sake’s my own mother doesn’t even do that!!
• The way she shoved me...few times;
• The way she smelled; she smells; it is different every time I see her, other than the first two times when her smell had completely disarmed me and as a result I have not shopped since. She smells like soft, clean laundry, comfortable, safe, like if she held me I would never want to move. Than as I breathe her in, a crazy, slightly dangerous and erotic note sneaks in, almost undetected to her other outside world. This note is just for me, just mine. Just mine. Just mine. Thinking about how it is intended for me...today, just now, it was intended for me, and although men or women before may have intended it too, for the first time this fact is significant enough to be noted. For the first time it makes me feel special and I have gone...I have done it again..sugar rush, first coffee of the day, wine, olives, strawberry short-cake crumbles, adderall, A’s in Law School, sea breeze, kitten cuddle...nothing compares to the rush I get just thinking about that deliberate smell she’s wearing. Just mine.
I wonder if this is what she means when she wants her actions to speak louder than words. I wonder if my neuroticism has driven her away every day; the inability to describe all these things to her, without becoming overwhelmed. She texts me that my excitement overwhelms her but I cannot stop, restrain, control myself, my thoughts; I want to escape...go outside of my head and just relax, take it easy, while making up a list of all the other small things she does.
Tonight, before I fall asleep, I’ll compile the remainder.
