When it was time to have my picture taken with Aisha Tyler, I handed my brand new, still not 100% sure how to use it, digital SLR camera (which also takes HD video) over to Michelle to take the picture. This is what happened next.
If you’ve been around these parts very long, (and with a couple notable exceptions, I’m certain you haven’t) you already know about my long-standing personal friendship with the beautiful, hilarious and talented actress, comedian, writer, podcaster, and Co-host of the daytime talk show The Talk on CBS, Aisha Tyler. If you’re new here, you can read the story here and here (though if you bother to look at those, I apologize that many of the pictures and links are broken, which makes them less exciting to read, especially the first one) and even here (though that last one is less about Aisha and more about an odd and confusing experience I had which happened to be on the same night as my last visit to one of Aisha’s shows.
That unavoidable, once a year event, which we often wish we could ignore is coming around again… really soon. And to celebrate Michelle and I went to dinner at a restaurant I had never been to before called The Dead Fish. (Rumor is that’s a famous line in the family that started the restaurant. The kids would ask mom, “What’s for dinner” and mom would say, “Dead fish.”) I had heard lots of good things about the place and had high expectations, which, sadly were not lived up to. It’s a nice enough place and the food was fine, but I expected better and more. I had “Crispy Pork Shank” which was not crispy at all and, in fact, was rather the consistence of pot roast, something I do not care for, and had a lot of fat on it. Plus, I ordered a Bombay martini, having recently discovered that Bombay Sapphire gin is actually quite smooth and pleasant – something that came as quite a surprise to me as I wasn’t much of a gin drinker. I wasn’t as specific as perhaps I should have been while ordering, but I was disappointed with what I was served. It did not come in a martini glass but rather some sort of goblet, almost like an old time champagne glass (non-flute). The goblet held very little liquid and they left me with an ice filled shaker with the rest of my martini in it. By the time I was ready to refill my glass, the ice was half melted and my martini was severely watered down. On top of that, there was noticeably too much vermouth which, for my tastes should really just be there to take the edge off the gin slightly, not be a notable flavor, particularly in a martini with such quality gin!
Dinner was followed by the late show at Cobb’s Comedy Club in San Francisco. My good friend Aisha Tyler was headlining. As far as I know she hasn’t toured since starting her stint as one of the cacophony of voices of The Talk which is in the same vein as The View. I told Michelle, “It’s better than The View, but it’s still a bunch of ladies sitting around a table talking over each other for an hour.” (I was disappointed when I found out my good friend was joining that show, but I am happy for her and her well-deserved success – and paycheck.) I was sure that after such a long break she would have a full set of new material, and for the most part she did.
After the show we waited in line to talk to Aisha, get a picture taken with her and an autographed copy of seasons 2 and 3 of her very funny, animated, FX sitcom Archer.
(This is the part where you find out just how close Aisha Tyler and I really are…)
Given the way I‘ve been feeling this weekend, I was feeling ever so slightly insecure and as we were waiting in line, I mentioned to Michelle that I was going to be disappointed if Aisha didn’t recognize me after so long.
We walked up to her and she greeted us as graciously as ever! She and I shook hands and ended up talking over each other. She said, “It’s nice to meet you.” as I said, “It’s been a long time. It’s nice to see you again.” A moment of unmistakable confusion darkened her eyes before she brightened up again and, with evident enthusiasm, said, “Hey! I didn’t recognize you for a minute.”
Now, I know what you’re thinking, and if it were anybody else, I might agree with you. I just don’t want to agree with you. And, only because of what she said next, do I choose to believe with certainty that she was sincere. She looked me over from head to toe and then looked back in my eyes and said, “Every time I see you, you’re skinnier than the last time! That’s why it takes me a second to recognize you! You look fantastic!” (Incidentally, her inscription on the cover of season 2 of Archer was “So foxy!” Those of you who are Archer fans will understand: on season 3 she wrote, “Sploosh!”)
See, I can’t help thinking that she really does recognize and remember me, because, “Hey you used to be way fatter!”, while complementary in its own strange way, isn’t really the way to fake remembering someone who may not have been fatter before. Given what I’ve observed first hand about her kindness and grace, I can’t believe she would choose that tactic.
I used to be way fatter…
(Really wishing I’d worn a better shirt. That shirt is WAY too big and is now in the “to donate” pile.)
Where does one even start with a post like this?
Honestly, my anxiety level is pretty high right now and that tells me one thing…
I really don’t want to think or “talk” about this. The problem of course is, I can’t not think about it. So I might as well write it and get it out of my head. I’m very confused right now.
Somewhat against my better judgement, I went out with some people on Saturday night. Two of the people were students from the EMT class that I’m helping with. The third person was another “Teacher’s Assistant.” I guess that’s what I am, unofficially. I’m volunteering my time because I wanted to reenforce the knowledge for myself, but right now I’m kind of dealing with some feelings of being taken advantage of. I don’t doubt that Mr. Williams appreciates my help, but I think after so many weeks of my reliable presence he is taking it for granted that I am going to be there and that he can put me to work. That’s not what bothers me though; that’s what I signed up for. It’s the students. Some of the students are less than gracious. They seem to take us (the other “TA”, Micah, and me) for granted and they don’t seem to appreciate the sacrifices we are making for them. I suppose that feeling may have accounted, to some extent, for Mr. Williams attitude last semester, but the thing is, he is getting paid. The rest of us are volunteers.
That’s really not what this is about.
After my experience last semester, I am very reluctant to consider being friendly with any of the people in this class now. I have given up every other Sunday afternoon (the time when I’m not hanging out with Lil’B) to go and meet with some of the students and help them practice their skills. Over the course of the weeks a rapport has developed among some of us, and I was more or less OK with it except that I feel like at times I’ve let my guard down more than I should and I’ve allowed my need to be liked to interfere with my position as a leader or an authority in the setting.
Micah has been very involved with this class, more than he was for mine. He has helped with all the study groups and skills practices. He’s a good guy and I like him a lot. He and I are the only ones who show up reliably to assist with the class. There are other people, but their attendance is sporadic and unreliable. And when they do show up, all the students clamor to join up with Micah and me, because Allen is a jack ass who yells at the students (when he’s not telling them of his personal life difficulties) and teaching them to his teacher’s specifications, which is all well and good except that his teacher wasn’t Mr. Williams, and Mr. Williams is who is teaching now, and then there’s Noah, who really has no idea what he’s doing and routinely comes to me to understand what he’s supposed to be doing, even though I’m not the teacher and graduated from the class more recently than anyone else who is helping, which seems wrong to me, because at least in theory, they should have more experience than I do, and oh my God, I can’t believe I just wrote another run-on sentence.
Anyway, I’m well liked, apparently, by most of the students so it came as no surprise when Judy texted me. “Check your calendar for the 16th. It’s Laura’s last home game & I want to go & support her. & then we want to go out afterwards.” Laura comes to class most days, dressed in some sort of athletic attire embroidered with the name of the water polo team from one school or another. These days she is affiliated with the women’s water polo team at Cal State Berkeley. She’s athletically built, is quite outgoing and has a very confident personality, or at least that how it seems at first. More on that later.
Judy is two years older than I, and Mr. Williams says she is my twin. I don’t honestly know why and I’m not sure I like it. We do seem to have a lot of similarities, however where we differ, we differ greatly. Judy was a cheerleader; I was a dork. Judy is very outgoing; I’m shy. (No really, I am!) Judy makes herself the center of attention, all the time; I try to fade into the wood work. Judy is perpetually laden with sexual innuendo, to the point of seeming like she’s trying too hard; I’m unreasonably uncomfortable talking about such things. In another text Judy said, “I hope you know that when this class is over, I am going to actively pursue you till you become one of my best friends!!!”, to which I replied, “Read: Stalk.”
I told Judy, “You might have guessed I don’t know the first thing about sports, but I am free that day and I might go.”
She replied, “there is no ‘might go’ available.” Earlier that night, I had to actually separate Judy and Laura because they wouldn’t stop talking and giggling while I was trying to teach them the skill of emergency childbirth, something I really don’t know how to do in the first place (would very much like, never to experience) and found out halfway through the night, I was not teaching correctly. Judy texted me, “That is what Laura & I were talking about is how much fun we would have hanging out with you.”
The next day she texted me to say, “I need another job so bad. Don’t you need a personal assistant or something?”
I told her, “Have I mentioned how much I hate MY job?”
She replied, “Yes…but you would like your job more if you got to hang with me all day.”
Somehow I doubt that.
Over that week-end, I found out that Aisha Tyler was playing a local comedy club this past week-end, but only on Saturday and Sunday. I love Aisha Tyler! (If you’ve been coming around here long, you know this already) I don’t generally go out on Sunday nights though, because I’m old and I have to work the next day, so I really wanted to go see her show on Saturday night at 10:30. I texted Judy, “About what time do you think Laura’s match will be over?”
Judy: “Don’t know but we wanted you to hang with us afterwards.
Me: “Did you have something specific in mind?” I wondered if they’d be interested in going to the show and if we had time to get there. Maybe everyone could get a little bit of what they wanted.
Judy: “Yep… but I can’t share it with you. Teehee. Laura wanted us all to go out after the game. Especially if Cal wins!!! It will be fun (trust me). Just pencil us in from 7 till we get you safe back home.”
Me: “You obviously don’t know me very well.”
Judy: “I don’t… that is why we have to hang out.”
Me: “I never trust anybody who tells me “Trust me”.
Judy: “Haha. Smart move.”
Me: “So??? What is the plan?”
Turns out there was no plan made. Micah apparently wanted to challenge Judy to Karaoke. Laura just wanted to make sure there were drinks involved. Judy said, “I think we will just go with the flow & see what there is to do in Berkeley.” This week, the school where the EMT class is taught is on Spring Break. Cal is not on Spring Break so it’s not really a break for Laura, but it’s a break from the EMT class at least.
When it was all said and done everyone was interested in going to see Aisha Tyler. Laura, I found out, is not a player, but an assistant coach. She’s a Fifth-Year Senior, “My victory lap” she calls it, and apparently she’s no longer eligible to play. Judy’s answer was, “Sounds like fun, but I don’t drive in the city.” I get so tired of people saying that. San Francisco is not that bad to drive in and certainly that’s no reason to deprive yourself of having fun. Originally, I told her I would drive her car. She drives a small-ish SUV, as compared to my compact hybrid. I didn’t really think we would fit in my car very well, but I really didn’t want to drive someone else’s car and eventually I told her, “Micah is so big he actually crowds me in the driver’s seat of my car. But I can wear my big girl panties and suck it up, if you two don’t mind being cramped in the back seat.” (None of these people know I’m gay, and occasionally I drop hints.)
Judy: “Yah… except that way we don’t get to see you drunk, which would be really entertaining.”
Me: “I don’t do drunk.”
Judy: “I figured…that is why it would be so entertaining.”
Me: “It’s really not that entertaining. That’s why I don’t do it… Anymore.”
Judy: “Well, I’ll just keep it on my bucket list (since we will be friends till we are old & gray.)
Saturday morning I sent a group text to the three, “FYI. There will be a 5 or so (not level) block walk from the parking garage to the comedy club and back again, so take that into consideration when selecting the height of your heels… Micah.” See, more hints. Laura, apparently, was very impressed that I thought to warn them. She said she told her father about it.
I was a little reluctant to go out with these people. I feel a little bit like it’s inappropriate to associate myself with the students. On the other hand I’m not the teacher and I don’t exactly have people banging down my door to be my friend. I decided I would go and just try to maintain an appropriate level of detachment which, by and large, was easy enough to do.
Micah is currently unemployed and he doesn’t have a working vehicle. I agreed to pick him up and take him to Laura’s match. I asked him on Friday what time he wanted me to pick him up and he said 5:00. That seemed unreasonably early to me but I let it go for the time being. However, as the, as it turned out, very lazy Saturday progressed, it became apparent I was not going to be on time. At 5:00 when, Micah called me, I was just about to step into the shower. Micah told me he was in Pacifica and just about to get on BART. He then told me he’d be back in Oakland around 5:30.
Mr. Williams, he himself a black man, often talks about some of the students living on “BPT” (actually, he says “CPT” but I personally find the C to be offensive.) BPT is “Black People Time”. I would never use that terminology myself, but based on my experiences with Michelle and her family, I can see where the phrase comes from. Michelle has no concept of time. She tells me she’ll be over at 5:30, it’ll be well after 6:00 before I see her. She tells me the movie starts in 20 minutes and we have plenty of time, even though we’re a 15 minute drive from the theater and still have to park, buy our tickets, go to the bathroom, buy our concessions and find seats in the crowded dark theater, but she’s still wandering aimlessly around the house.
It takes nearly an hour to get from Pacifica to Oakland on BART and I knew there was no way that Micah was going to be home by 5:30. I told him I, too, was running late, and we’d play it by ear. I took my shower, brushed my teeth, beautified myself, before I texted him to say, “I’ll be ready to go in 10 minutes. Will you be ready to be picked up?” I got dressed and went into the kitchen to feed the cat. That’s when my phone rang. It’s was Micah who wanted to know how long ago I had sent the text. I told him about 4 minutes. It was 6:03 and he had just arrived in Oakland. He was waiting for the bus that would take him home so he could change for the evening. I told him I would head toward the street corner he was on and we would see if I got there before the bus did.
I picked Micah up and took him to his house so he could change clothes. I hadn’t eaten in hours and I was starving. I knew we would all go eat after the water polo match but I was too hungry to wait that long so I told Micah we’d stop at McDonald’s or something along the way. I didn’t mind buying him a burger. Due to a few circumstances beyond my control we were late arriving at the match. Cal lost to Stanford 8-4 if anybody cares. The match was over a little after 8:00 and we went back to Laura’s apartment so she could change.
Laura’s room mates were having an impromptu party, and there were many distractions as Laura was trying to change and Micah was trying to Flirt. Judy and I were starving and we wanted to get something to eat before heading into The City and Micah and Laura were slowing down the works. Despite my warning, Laura wore a pair of close-fitting jeans, a lovely, but casual black maternity shirt (she says she actually bought it in the maternity department, but God only knows why, she certainly doesn’t need to shop there) and three-inch heels. To be honest, that surprised me for reasons unrelated to the walking that would be taking place. The top was low-cut and she was displaying a pleasant, not absurd amount of cleavage. This was the first time I had ever seen Laura with her hair down and I had no idea how long her hair actually was. She always comes to class with a pony tail. Laura is beautiful, with long blond hair, clear, glowing skin and bright blue eyes. She has perfect, white teeth, with a beautiful smile. She has a low-pitched voice she describes as a smokers voice, even though she doesn’t smoke (think Angie Harmon). It’s not gruff, just not high-pitched. She has a fantastic laugh that is very infectious. She’s just a lot of fun to spend time with.
When she was ready and we were about leave her apartment, Judy told Laura that she looked “hot”. I was surprised to see Laura blush and trivialize the very accurate complement. Later as we walked from my car to the restaurant, I asked, “Laura. You’re not self conscious are you?” She said she was not, but then she said she didn’t believe it when people say things like that. (Um… What does “self-conscious” mean to you?) Judy’s reply was that she had enough confidence for both of them. Oy!
We had dinner at Chipotle and then headed into San Francisco. While we waited in the longest line I’ve ever experienced at this club, I looked up and realized I had a beautiful view of Coit Tower. I tried to take a picture of it, but of course in the dark, at a distance, with my crappy little point and shoot digital, it came out as a blurry swab of dim light on an otherwise dark background. As I pointed my crappy camera at the beautiful specter, I heard Judy behind me. “Two beautiful blondes right here and he’s taking pictures of landscapes.” After I took my bad picture, I turned the camera on her. I couldn’t even see her, and I didn’t really care how the picture turned out, but when it was taken and I looked at the finished product, I saw that in the blink of an eye, she had posed for the picture.
The host/first act of the night was a local morning radio show host; one half of Fernando & Greg, the only gay radio show I’ve ever heard of. I don’t honestly know if it was Fernando or Greg. I don’t really care. He wasn’t funny. The opening act, also a gay man whose name I can not remember, was downright filthy and offensive. Both of them made a lot of gay jokes, which, naturally, I found humor in, to a point, but they both pushed the envelope quite a bit. There were a number of anti-female and anti-heterosexuality jokes made with a lot of derogatory references to female genitalia and I found the whole thing very uncomfortable. I know some people believe that’s what comedy should be. I am not one of those people. Aisha Tyler, of course was hilarious, only once saying something that I found offensive, a single word, but still. That was a new experience for me.
Judy, Laura and Micah enjoyed the show. They complied with the two drink minimum. Micah with a whiskey & lime and a Kamikaze, Laura with two beers and Judy with a bottle of White Zinfandel. I had two Diet Cokes. Judy paid for Micah’s drinks and unbeknownst to me, Laura paid for mine. I drove, used my gas, my electronic toll pass to cross the bridge and paid for the parking, so I didn’t mind letting Laura pay for my absurdly expensive soft drinks ($4.00 a piece).
When the show was over, we got in line to meet my BFF. Laura took this picture. It’s better than the one Michelle took the last time I saw Aisha. That picture was unsharable. (Also? LOOK BRACES!) We also took a group picture.
After, we headed back to the parking garage where my car was parked. No sooner did we get outside, than Judy grabbed Micah and said, “I need an arm.” She then proceeded to hang on him all the way to the garage. Laura and I walked together a few paces ahead of Micah and Judy. Laura was curious about my “relationship” with Aisha and we talked all the way back. She was amused and seemed genuinely… Impressed doesn’t seem like the right word, but for lack of a better option…
It was nearly 1:00 AM when we got to the parking garage and I realized I forgot to have my parking ticket validated. I was just going to pay the full price for my parking ($2.00 every 20 minutes for the three or more hours we were there) but both Judy and Laura told me I shouldn’t do that. I said, “Do you guys really want to walk all the way back there?”
Laura said, “Sure!”
Judy said, “No.”
I said we would have to walk back to get it validated. Judy wanted to wait while I went back. I told her, “We all go or nobody goes.” So we all turned around and went back to the club, about seven blocks, to get the ticket validated. The whole way, Laura and I were ahead of Judy and Micah, and we talked. (You’ll recall that Laura was wearing three-inch heels. What I didn’t say was that she was wearing them with no stockings. At no point did she complain about her feet.)
I was very thirsty and after getting my ticket validated we crossed the street to a liquor store so I could get a bottle of Diet Pepsi. While I was standing at the cooler, I heard Judy say, “Pepsi please” and I grabbed one. Micah and Laura both said they didn’t want anything. I held the Pepsi out to Judy and she just looked at it.
I asked, “Didn’t you say you wanted this?”
“Yeah,” she replied, “but I can’t hold it yet.” After a beat as I just looked at her, she said, “I’ll pay for it, I just can’t hold it.”
I put the bottles down on the counter. The cashier rang them up, and I gave him $4.00. He handed me my change and put the bottles in a black plastic bag. I turned around and followed the crew outside where I pulled the Pepsi out of the bag and held it out to Judy. “I can’t hold that yet,” she said again. Enough was enough. I rolled my eyes, put her Pepsi back in the bag, pulled my Diet Pepsi out and held the bag out to her. She whined for a second and I continued to hold it out to her. Finally she took it and I turned to walk back to the car. Suddenly I felt a drag on my arm as Judy reached out and grabbed it to “steady herself”. Again she said, “I need an arm” and she proceeded to hold on to me all the way back to the car. I hated it, but I didn’t man up and tell her to let go of me.
At first Micah and Laura were ahead of us, but soon, Laura fell behind and walked with Judy and me, and she and I continued our conversation. Soon, Micah joined us.
We were back at Laura’s apartment in Berkeley by 2:00. After a few minutes of conversation, Laura went inside, and Micah and Judy got into her car while I got into mine.
You may be wondering what is so confusing about all this, as the title of this post would imply. On the other hand, I’m not terribly subtle, maybe you’re not wondering at all…
Really, there are a number of things that are confusing to me.
I had fun, and yet, I didn’t.
I liked being out and doing stuff, but I didn’t enjoy feeling taken advantage of. I didn’t like playing taxi service.
I was simultaneously willing and annoyed to have to buy Micah’s food. I understand what it’s like to be broke when everyone else isn’t, and I’m OK with helping him out, and yet, I kind of feel like he should have declined to come out with us if he didn’t have any money. I can imagine how he might feel and I don’t want to make him feel worse. I also think it’s kind of presumptuous of him.
I found Judy’s behavior off-putting, but I realized I don’t really have a good reason to not like her. Plus, she seems to really like me, which means if I reject her, I’ll feel like even more of a dick, than I would if we were just casual acquaintances. She really isn’t a not nice person and I should accept her friendship at least to a point, but I really hate that girly, helpless, I need a man for everything attitude. Too dainty to walk very far. Too dependent to hold her self upright after a couple of glasses of wine. Too cold to hold the cold soda that she asked for. Give me a break! Puh-lease!
Judy and Laura had a lot of whispered conversations. I really hate that! I know it happens. Frequently even. Especially among women. But it’s just so annoying, and I think rather rude when in the midst of company. They sat in the back seat of my car as I drove into the city and they were whispering to each other. They wanted me to turn on music, but in order to be able to hear each other talk, it had to be turned down so low that you couldn’t hear it anyway. After one song I turned it back off and no one noticed for almost 10 minutes.
I felt a little bit like I was bullied into the whole situation, because Judy wanted it and she always seems to get her way. I’m realizing as I write this that Judy tells people what they’re going to do, but she does it in such a way as to feel as though you’re being asked when in fact you’re not. And it’s not until later that you realize you’ve actually been manipulated into doing what she wants. Generally what she wants is harmless enough, but that’s so not the point.
And then there’s the biggest confusion of all.
Without really giving it any thought or even really being aware of what was happening, I found myself admiring… Laura.
I’ve liked Laura since I met her. She’s funny. She’s smart. She’s personable. She’s self-assured. She’s athletic. She seems to be very happy. She’s always seemed a bit of a tomboy, which is fine if that’s your thing. Not butch, not masculine, just… Tomboy.
Something that has always bothered me about women, if you haven’t already picked up on this, and which should have probably given me a clue about myself sooner in life, is the helpless, needy, dainty, girliness of them. I know that I’m treading on dangerous waters here, since the majority of my readership is female, but still…
I never wanted to be with someone I had to do everything for. I always wanted to be with a partner; an equal. I want someone who when they ask for help carrying in the groceries they mean help not do it for me. Better yet, someone who won’t ask for help. That would be awesome! I want to be with someone who, when they get a wild hair to rearrange the furniture, asks for my input, because that’s the only thing they need from me, not my “help” because they want to point and direct while I push all the furniture around. Someone who wants to remodel the bathroom together, not have me do all the work (which is a joke, because I’m as unhandy as you can get.)
I wanted to be with someone who is strong (physically and emotionally), capable, independent, but who can clean themselves up, throw on a nice outfit and be attractive and sexy for an evening outing.
The point is, I wanted to be with someone who was independent. Someone who didn’t need me for every little thing. Someone who is perfectly content to do things on their own but who enjoys doing things with me. I want to be with someone who wants to be with me, not needs to be. I want to feel wanted not needed.
Growing up, I was sure I was never going to find that, but if I some how did, it would be a woman. It had to be, there was no other viable option. For the last few years I’ve been sure I was never going to find that, but if I somehow did, it was going to be a man. Men are my thing, and since I’m not sure I’ll ever truly come to terms with that, I fully expect to be alone for the rest of my life.
But I haven’t stopped thinking about Laura since Saturday night. It’s all very confusing. And there are a lot of reasons for this to be confusing.
I have no idea if Laura is interested in me. Sometimes I think she might be. She enjoys talking to me, and naturally, that can’t possibly be just because she likes me as a person… I’m realizing now, that whatever her motivation, or the extent of her interest, she does show genuine interest in knowing me. She bought me lunch once when we were meeting with a bunch of people to review skills. She hasn’t done that for Micah. She bought my drinks on Saturday, even though I had already handed her money for them. She didn’t buy anything for Micah all night. She walked with and talked to me all the way to the parking garage and back to the club. After just a couple of minutes with Micah, she came back to talk to me on the next walk. She presumably wanted me to come on this outing with them, at least that’s what Judy said.
Laura, seems to me to be all the things I described above: strong, capable, confident, a partner not a clinger on. She’s tough and athletic which is something I’ve always found appealing. But when she took her hair down, and she wore the high heels, never once complaining about how hard they are to walk in, and walked a lot. She looked beautiful; sexy even.
Laura is also too young. She’s only 22. I’m 35. There’s a whole span of history and culture she knows nothing about and I do. I’ve strongly adhered to the “half your age plus seven rule of not being creepy”, which clearly dictates that I can’t be with anyone under 24.
Also, in case I haven’t mentioned it previously… Laura is a girl. A full-fledged girl with floppy chesticles and a real vagina… I assume.
I never truly ruled out the possibility of accidentally falling in love with a woman. Lord knows, a part of my heart always has and always will belong to Heather, but Heather is safe and those feelings are far more about the unconditional love and acceptance I get from her, and not so much about physical or sexual attraction. Heather represents something I’ve never had in my life and I never expect to have again. Laura… Laura is something new.
But I have been with a woman. I know what it’s all about. I’ve performed oral sex, exactly one time, on a woman and I was quite sure, from that one time, it was not something I ever wanted to do again. I can’t imagine feeling differently about that, just because it’s a different woman.
It would be horrible of me to try to get over it and fail. How could I do something so hurtful to someone I cared about? The risk is too great, and not worth taking.
Besides, this may all be one-sided.
I’m blowing this out of proportion.
Laura is something I don’t often seen in women, something that I like and I’m sure that’s what this is about.
It’s not real.
It’s all in my head.
It’s very confusing.