yesterday morning on my way home, someone sat across the aisle from me. he had grey clothes, a bicycle, a beard and bright blue eyes. I know this because he stared at me.
after I sat reading from
Lloyd center to
Woodstock, he finally asked what I was reading. I was reading any easy intimacy by
Jeffrey Brown. he noticed the pins on my bag that say "shut up and write" and "let's make slang," and asked if I wrote.
I said I tried.
when he asked what, I said autobiographical songs and fictional short stories.
he asked what kind of stories I was writing.
the way I described it fit really well: the details that make up the moments that define your life.
the way light hits your hair in the sun, the way your lover's throat smells as their heart beats out pulses in the veins, that jolt of shy lightning that goes through your
follicles when your fingers brush together over a pen.
he said that was amazing.
I introduced myself and he said his name was Robbie.
he seemed nice, or at least complimentary.
I went home and got ready to go see Nick at Saturday market and made some noodles. After taking the bus down to Burnside, I waited on the fountain and listened to a one armed man play guitar and another man play buckets as drums. he used a metal plate under his shoe as a cymbal. I probably waited about a half hour but it was sunny and warm and since I've been pleased with life this is no difficult thing for me. I'm pretty mellow.
Nick showed up with his brother and didn't come up to me. just kinda watched me. maybe there was a crowd in front of them? I can't remember.
I saw him and he gave me a rose.
it's so odd, this mixture of him being reserved and keeping his hands to himself but giving me this symbol of something more than the space between our bodies.
we walked around the new market for a while, and his brother left after a bit of odd conversation on everyone's part. Nick and I went to Backspace, shared a cup of coffee, played scrabble (he won by a few points) and he coerced me into playing pool by saying I had to.
I'm such a hard sell.
after he showed me the general rule on how to aim, I guess I was a natural, but that's his word.
I think a more correct term was lucky.
I hit three in a row behind my back, which sounds much more impressive than it was.
eventually, we got bored and took a walk down to waterfront. on the way, we got to discussing my history- family and relationships, mainly. it isn't much I like to bring up with most people. talking about insecurities makes me feel like a fool. it seems that every time I trust someone enough to tell them these things, they end up hurting me. I hold back so much from people, and I did that exact thing with Nick. I showed him a corner of this giant spreadsheet of emotion and complexities.
then we kissed.
and now there's this entire city map of my technical difficulties and my secret passageways and all of the dilapidated history. I should have realized that I needed to let go slowly. taking things slowly is one thing, but letting myself give in slowly is another.
once I'm sure about someone, I give them everything I've got. he kissed me, and I kissed him back with my whole body.
it had been a while since I'd had such a good kiss.
and on our walk, he tells me that he's scared of where I'm headed with my feelings, he was just engaged and got terribly hurt and doesn't know how to let go and doesn't know if he'll never hurt me, and for me, these are words of parting.
no one ever speaks to me about their feelings unless it's love or hate.
never constructive conversation.
when we were at dollar tree (getting bandaids) he said I could come to his grandparents' fourth of july party. this surprised me because that's in two months. the longest relationship I've had in the past year is two weeks. everyone leaves before I get to the month mark.
I must be frightening.
we continued talking and he said we should go somewhere on his next vacation (early august). he even said "three month celebraysh."
so, I see him wanting to do these things and be commited, but I also see him waning in certainty.
I guess that's normal.
it just scares me.
just letting go of the shackles I hold myself under with most people is enough to feel like I've lost so much. I don't want to feel like I chose wrong, again.
I understand that most things will not work out in my life.
I just... really want one thing to.
I don't mean life long. I just mean.... I want to be happy.
and I keep thinking I can let people into my heart, but once I do, they see inside and run away.
he said the idea of me being cold and unfeeling, like he thought I was, was somewhat attractive. something he possibly wanted.
I'm the opposite of unfeeling and cold.
I'm burning and sensitive and intimate beyond barriars.
I'm the kind of girl that holds hands for hours
I listen with both ears and heart
I feel with every muscle and ounce of ceratonin I own
I love with every breath
so this is hard.
this letting someone in.
and not feeling like...
like I'm a wine glass full of dark, bitter nectar
on a table covered in white linen
and I've handed him the edge.
