There’s something in the air tonight. Is it a full moon? I’ll have to check (sadly, I don’t just automagically know the phase of the moon. That would be a dumb super-power). Is it the fact that the summer solstice was yesterday? Is it the weather – a little sun and warmth and everyone’s suddenly running around with a heightened sense of sociability and friendliness and, dare I say it?, sensuality?
‘Cause I’m feelin’ it, too. And I’ve been putting out feelers here and there, and getting responses like crazy. I smile at an attractive woman and she smiles warmly back. I say “hi” to another one and she says “hi” and pauses to talk, for all the world giving me the impression that she was just waiting for me to say something, or for anybody to say something, to give her the opportunity to interact.
Earlier I was sitting in a coffee shop by the window, employing my male gaze and watching the attractive women go by (and don’t get me wrong, I have a wide variety of tastes. You might be surprised) and the least response I get is a quick, last-minute swiveling of eyes in my direction, to see if, in fact, I was looking their way.
And some of the responses are almost unbalancing, startling me with the hunger and need to be entertained, laid naked and bare with the simplest of opening lines from me. I’m no Casanova. I’m not “smooth” or a player. I’m just a funny guy who’s learning to put aside his fear and take some small chances in the world. I’m trying different things. And it seems that companionship (yes, I’m being vague on purpose – I’m not just talking about the lowest common denominator, but the wide spectrum that the phrase represents) is right out there waiting for me to take, if I want it.
This sudden availability is causing me some whiplash of the heart. It’s challenging my assumptions. And, like the over-thinker I am, I’m trying to pinpoint the reasons, the causes, of this change. When instead I should be reveling in it, rolling in it like I’d roll in clover; itself a phrase that is linked in my mind with love and embrace and crazy childlike joy and, especially especially, with just plain winning.
Here I was, steeling myself to dive into water that I expected to be freezing cold, mentally braced for the iciness and frostbite, telling myself “I can handle it and it will be fine once I’m in there”, taking deep breaths for my plunge to the bottom… only to find that it’s blood warm and buoyant, supporting me on comforting waves. Imagine my surprise.
Imagine my surprise.
Is it illusion? Am I imagining it? How much “real” is this, and how much is like faerie gold, golden yellow at first but turning into dry leaves if I try to spend it?
Aw, poetry. Can I just enjoy the looks, and the “hello’s” and the brief conversations about nothings? Is it enough for my eyes to trace the curve of cleavage only to look up to knowing, smiling eyes? Is it enough to put out a call “is there anyone out there?” and hearing “I’m out here, too”?
Maybe. And maybe the more of those I get, the more of those will advance to the next stage. I’d hate to reduce the music and dance of human interaction to mere numbers – but numbers have their own music, as any geek will tell you – or any musician, for that matter.
I’m so ramble-y tonight. I’m going to go out and prowl the night for a bit before I hie me hence to bed.
And apparently the moon is only 57% full, according to this page.