it could happen....
I rouse myself out of bed with what I felt was admirable resolve. As usual, the sheets are twisted and hanging off the frame…a physical reminder of the restless wanderings of my dreaming mind. I can’t recall what wretched dream I had this time, but I know I woke with the now-familiar crush of unfulfilled want and desire.
I have long since lost the ability to temporarily sedate the rumbling hunger between my thighs. It just wasn’t worth it…reaching down to touch myself where I yearned for another to touch me. I had retreated into adolescence, seeking my makeshift release several times a day…an addict seeking that increasingly elusive high. I sigh. The solitary orgasms had lost their pull…my mind was definitely no longer blown by the act of masturbation. Masturbation. A lonely word that defined my existence.
I sigh again, and make my way into the bathroom, trying hard not to read into the half of the bed that is still almost perfectly and mockingly tidy. The half where you would lay…if you were here…if I knew who you were. I never did get the hang of having a bed all to myself. Not since the first relationship I had with a roommate in college…where her bed remained unused and unneeded during our time together.
******
It is Saturday, and I have made up a list of tasks and chores to be accomplished. This itself is an accomplishment, for I have found myself unable to do even the most mundane things without concerted effort…since she left. I get up, I go to sleep. And in between, I go to a job that thankfully does not require much interaction with my co-workers. Indeed, I could go for hours without speaking to another soul in my little studio. Well…not directly. It is radio, after all…and so I am talking to potentially tens of thousands of people, but I find that much easier than a one-on-one conversation.
Today, I am grateful for all the things I have left undone that must be taken care of. The cleaning, the shopping, the getting someone to fix the leaky faucet…and my attempts to fix a few other things around the apartment. I am grateful, because today of all days, I need the distraction. It is my birthday. Hu-fucking-rray.
******
I spend most of the day in sweat-inducing mindless activity. But a thought or two still sneak up on me. Like what exactly should I expect to be different, now that I’m 30? Aside from the gut-wrenching ache from another failed relationship – now 4 months old – should I be satisfied with how far I have come, and excited at the prospects of where I am going? And do I give a fuck?
I look down at my watch and swear at the time. I haven’t really worn it much for a while, as I found it to be a reminder of empty time, wasted and ticking away…why would anyone walk around with a time-bomb strapped to their wrist?
I barely clean up a bit, and head to the grocery store 3 blocks away. I may not be eating much nowadays, but I have a list, and by God I’m going to stick to it.
******
I walk around the store somewhat aimlessly for someone with an avowed purpose. There are maybe 3 other people, buying things to quench their own hungers…their own thirsts.
For some reason, I am staring at the door when another customer walks in. And I stop. And I stare. And she stops…not staring at me, no. She is rooting through her handbag, staring in my direction. You know that thing people do when searching for something…they’re not really looking at you, just connecting with an inner visual of the items their fingers touch in the bag.
I am still staring. I am drawn to her…to her lips…her eyes…She is one of those people who look natural, even with make-up. The ones to whom make-up is a complement, not an improvement. My eyes take in her lips once more. I want to kiss those lips, I think. What is wrong with me? Superficial attractiveness has only ever led me into eventual trouble…why go there again. But those lips….
She glances down at her bag, and then smiles as her hand finds its treasure…her cell phone. She flips it, and speaks to whoever was on the other end…whoever was lucky enough to know and be known by her. I tell myself to move…walk on…get back to the list. What list? Oh.
I reach out to pick up an item in the shelf next to me. When I look down, I’m surprised to find it’s a shaving stick for men. I smile, shaking my head in a vague attempt to get some clarity. I turn into the next aisle…and there she is again. So I settle in for another round of staring…close enough this time to be undone by the fragrance of her perfume.
Suddenly, she sees me staring at her. And this time, she sees me. Now she’s staring. Still talking on the phone, but definitely staring. I watch her eyes rake over me. I kick myself for not putting in a little more effort before leaving my place. Then I kick myself harder for having any hope of anything happening. She’s probably not even gay. And after the last time, I had signed the dotted line that said “No straight women under any circumstances.
So, I turn to walk away. But I can’t help but look back, just once. She is still there…still staring. And she reaches out a hand and mimes ‘Wait”, with a smile on her face. Somehow, I know the smile is for me, not the person at the other end. I wait.
