I am...a New Yorker

[Previous entry: "An American in Paris; a Nigger in New York"]

Wednesday, June 18, 2003

Noses to cheeks, forehead to forehead; with the cute, young whippersnapper with jet black hair and the regal nose.

See above, and being tickled by.

In ďchicks with laptopĒ porn, or so I joked with the charming Aussie who snapped me last night at a local restaurant. I long ago noted you practically had to have a Ti-Book to get in there. He says heís seen as many as 12 laptops in this cafť, which only seats about 18.

Taking part in other forms of porn, to make up the $10k deficit between my scholarship and tuition this year, having just learned I unexpectedly no longer qualify for Federal loans (just more gubment changes to serve us all better). Letís hope my GPA will net some additional scholarship money.

The company of two women I met last Friday at French Roast. As theyíre in the hood, weíre going to start a brunch or book club next month (by chance, one of them just picked up a copy of Orlando by Virginia Wolfe). They plied me with a nice Pinot Grigio and adored the story Iím working on, ďNo Fear of Heaven.Ē

Good in Bed. I loved that Cannie isn't a fat stereotype -- she has smarts, sarcasm, sex, and healthy habits. I get so tired of explaining to people that no, I don't sit on my ass and eat bon bons all day.

The Lovely Bones, which I read chapter-by-chapter in bookstores last fall. Now I have my own copy. It's probably not putting me in the best of moods, but at the same time, it's a lot closer to my reality that wedding fairy tales that have seriously ruined most adult women's sense of reality.

I am...a big fan of kissing. I canít think of why I donít do it more. I pass up opportunities all the time, and now all over the world. Thatís usually and especially when I suspect bad, awkward, rough or lame kissing.

Saturday, she kissed me. I half expected it, after the enthusiastic emails during the week about something she watched about women kissing women, because they knew what women liked. I said I was glad that women kissing women made her think of me.

I wanted to kiss her for a long time. But, with work, school and my misplaced affection for emotionally frigid nerds, my plate was pretty full with not-so satisfying fare. Besides, I am a firm believer in ďdonít shit where you eat,Ē so I didnít want to broach this before the thing that brought us together came to a close. This was the first chance I got to see her since then and my trip.

I looked so HOT at the Louvre

She loved the photos of my trip. When she saw the Louvre photo, she said, ďWow, you looked sexy!Ē (Which has been the general consensus. I attribute the Mona Lisa smile to the knowledge that I had a date later that night with two French men.) She kept telling me I was beautiful, which is nice to hear after being so freshly rejected. It was especially nice coming from someone Iíve long enjoyed impure thoughts about.

She walked me to the edge of the East River, so I could see the view. I tried clumsily to take our photo, trying to center the reflection of our faces in the lens, as Iíd finally learned to do abroad. I noticed it in the reflection first, the way her face turned toward me.

Then I felt her lips tickling the corner of mine. She pecked at my lips playfully. I felt delicious, if too shy to dive in fully. Her softness, warmth, enthusiasm, her scent. It was sweet, tender, yummy. How Iíve missed that in my life.

Let me just say now, how much I donít want this to get heavy. I canít take all that emotional shit with no physical pay off any more:
* I donít want to be in lurve.
* I donít want to spend the rest of my life with this person.
* I donít want to end up unexpectedly face-to-face with her other lovers.
* I donít want to get dumped from a pay phone in a mental ward.
* I donít want to have her ashamed to be seen with me.
* I donít know that I even want to have sex.

I want to have fun, for once in my sorry sex life. [Note to Jennifer Weiner -- I have all the requisite wretched life experiences, and then some...Iíll be a great writer.]

And this is all premature, of course. I donít know what I want, or what she wants. Iím enjoying the delicious day dreams for now.

[Next entry: "Holding Hands"]
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