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2004-04-28 - 2:10 p.m. Tired with Traction So I told her, though not in exactly as tidy language as I'd hoped to -- fairly close though. Heart in my throat, all that crap. I got through and had been rambling nervously for awhile and looked up and said, "So basically what I'm saying is that I really like you and think you're a great person, and if I am going to be seeing anyone, I want it to be you." She didn't run away screaming, blush, look away, or even change her expression too much -- it's unnerving, I've never had a conversation with myself before. "Why?" she asked, and leaned forward for the answer. "What do you like about me? I'm big on the whys." And so for fifteen minutes I chain-smoked and listed off everything I could think of and everything I'd been thinking of for the past weeks, situations and specifics and hopeless generalities; we were drinking at the time, but nowhere near drunk. And then we talked about other things, with no real comment from her. She asked me an hour or so later, "Are you still uncomfortable?" Not nearly so much, I said, as I was an hour ago. We talked a bit about her childhood, and about common things we've noticed in people that key you in to childhood events they might not ever tell you about. Talked about, in different words, the things and people that we protect and care about; about our failures, and what we do to keep them from happening again. About who we are, basically, and who we've been and might be again. Hours later it was approaching 4AM and we both had to wake up at around 8AM, so we decided it was time to get out of our each-other-facing chairs, and we walked to the door still talking. We slowed down as we actually got there, and I leaned on the door, head to the side, to keep enough brainpower to keep my eyes open until she left, and she stood at the doorjam looking back. "What are you thinking about?" I had to ask. She and I have similar tensing of the jaw muscles when we're thinking about particular subjects, and once I started guessing what was on her mind by what my face looks like when I'm thinking, it all got a lot easier. Not many people I can do that with, but it works with the one it's most important to me that it work with, so it's all good. "I'm just .. debating about some things," she said quietly, looking back inside through the dark at me. I really need to replace the porch light. And though she hadn't said anything the entire night, then -- then I knew she'd made her decision before I had, and I knew which particular debate she was having now. "Are you accepting input, or is this a solo debate?" I tossed out, wry grin, since that's about the only expression I have when I've been drinking and I'm happy and sleep-deprived. This is a scene that I can make happen, I think to myself; my pulse pounds, and it makes my voice sound hollow. I havn't had that happen before. "What do you mean?" Thoughtful look gone, now she looks confused. I put out my hand and she took it, still confused. Then I pulled her towards me and we kissed, and there was no more confusion. That was two nights ago. She came again last night and we talked for hours, then touched for hours more. Our goal is to get out of here every night by 4AM so we can get the minimum sleep we need to keep functioning productively in our days, and to stay awake again until 4AM for our nights. On Monday before we finally broke apart to go our separate ways, she asked if I was doing anything Wednesday night. So we were on for that. Tuesday we were walking together and I asked her jokingly if she was doing anything Wednesday night, and she said she was all booked up, sorry. I had time to blink before she said she'd made plans with some guy, squeezed my hand, and grinned. I havn't said it out loud yet, but it's not like she and I just met -- I've known her for coming up on two years, and we've had time over this timeframe to get to know each other pretty well on a lot of important levels. I do believe I'm falling in love. "You think before you act," I said while chainsmoking and thinking. "You question the things that come from inside you before acting on them, and it's no half-hearted examination either. Not many people are willing to take the risk of looking at themselves and finding out they aren't based on anything real or right. You are, and I respect that a hell of a lot." She's attractive as hell, is one of the only people who can really pull off grinning instead of smiling, and puts a shitload of energy into the things she's doing, whatever it is that she's chosen to do. "What are you thinking?" she asked, our foreheads pressed together while we looked at our held hands and thought. "I'm thinking that this isn't going to be a short-term thing at all; that I'm happy about that, and that I really like having you around regardless of what we're doing." She grinned again, that killer grin. "I'm okay with that." And a tackle, and they're down for the count. And I'm so happy, so happy I don't know where I'm going, and I don't know what I'm doing or how I'm going to get anywhere. But goddammit I am loving my life right now -- a combination of getting out and doing things because I want to, finally putting some effort into making this apartment into a home after living here a year and a half, mostly alone, and having someone understand -- fucking hell, man. Hearing someone else with the quiet voice of similar experiences is worth twice the years I've so far spent in stasis. I'm going to turn my stereo up loud today and perhaps take a nap -- perhaps even take a nap with the stereo on. It's a sunny, beautiful day and I've already gone driving and walking in it and have no productive endeavors left for the day. Things might not turn out great; relationships like the one we're moving into are deadly intense once they get going, and I've no doubt in my mind that there will be times of depth-dark sobbing to match the delirious happiness -- but hell, if you've got to cry, it may as well be for a good reason. A person of her caliber, as I see it, is a damn worthwhile reason for just about anything. I'm just peachy, thanks. Ciao.
DLand |