Revisited, Rekindled, and Refailure

Soooooo yeah. I was going to ask The Past Girl if she sent that Mother's Day thing just to my phone or was it a general send. I've had three opportunities. Timing was never right. Though I was face to face with her, she'd have a meeting soon afterwards or I did.

Today there were just too many co-workers and clients hanging around the house.

Fast forward 7 hours to now.

To mess with someone in Twitter, I went searching for vids and stumbled upon Jennifer Hudson again.

The official vid if you prefer.
And back goes my head to The Past Girl.

Please let me describe this dichotomy that I live with okay?

The same-sex thing? It's like this--you guys seen 300, right? Or Wolverine: Origins. So you know when Leonides/Logan is/are all full of power and anger and strength and passion? Eyebrows knitted, muscles writhing, jaws agape, teeth bared, faces grimacing? Yeah. And you know when you're leaning a little forward in your seat and you want to punch the air when you watch? And when you leave the theater your fists are clenched and you wish somebody WOULD say something foul right in that moment. You know that feeling of empowerment and brotherhood? That feeling of masculine identity?

Yeah. Well, I get all that. And then I think of sex. Maybe that doesn't happen to every guy. Or any guy, despite all my decades of convincing myself that it does happen to some. But it happens to me. (And I DO think it happens to others. I think society reflects the fact that other men--photographers, porn producers, casting agents, and every man who watches adventure movies that star another man--knows what a sexually attractive man looks like.) So the thought starts--"he's sexy." And then if I dwell long enough, it could go into an actual same-sex experience. (Interpret this how you may.) But in person, it never has. Because I won't think on it long enough when I'm actually WITH a dude. That's when all the circuit breakers start to flip. That's when all the conditioning takes hold. That's when the fear comes in. "if you do this ... IF YOU DO THIS ... IF YOU DOOOOO THIIIIIIS ..."

So I don't.

But now let me tell you what it's like with a woman. And let me tell you what it's like with The Past Girl.

She's curvy. She has a tickling husky laugh. She has big brown eyes, and she bats her lashes, not to be coy, but to cover up an insecurity or two. She's observing her world but she doesn't seem to want everyone around her to know precisely when she's doing it.

Her phone rings and Earth, Wind and Fire plays. Literally. "September." I react to it, dancing, and she laughs as she answers it.

And her laugh makes me want to take her by the hand and have her dance with me. I want her to press her body up against mine. I want to smell her neck and the hair around her earlobe. I want to feel her hand on my shoulder. I want to fit into her arms.

I want to become her Leonides/Logan. I want to be that same strength that if I were alone, I would fixate on differently. I want to be to her what those heroic men can be to me. I want to own the image, instead of watch others be the image. And I want to feel her react to me--a man.

When Jennifer Hudson sings her song, and she's asking "If this isn't love, tell me what it is" I get tears in my eyes. Because I don't love a man the way I love a woman. I don't want with a man what I want with a woman. I don't care where my mind goes or what my body does in the case of a man. I want that masculine/feminine contrast. I want the light/dark, that yin/yang, that man's/woman's voice interplay before, during and after.

And when I'm around The Past Girl, she's the one I want all this with. I'm drawn to her in ways I haven't been drawn since my last girlfriend. I feel new chances with her in ways that I haven't felt in years. And when she's around me, I don't want anything else. I don't want men. I don't want other women. I want her.

And that's when I'm around her.

So why not make it so that I'm around her more often?

Why not ask her out?

Yeah. Why not?

I thought to text her simply "Do you dance? I want to dance with you."

But did I?