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I am...a New Yorker
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Sunday, June 22, 2003
Holding Hands
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Going...
Nowhere, I needed some me time after the crazy weekend last week.

Eating...
Not a lot, I was more about the sleeping the past few days.

Writing...
I should be.

Singing...
Probably the theme to "Legally Blonde."

Reading...
The Lovely Bones, having finished Good in Bed. Next is probably the new Harry Potter or the Bill Bryson book I got for my birthday last year and got stuck after Elvis and Tupelo after John's birthday.

Mourning...
Not getting to know someone and now it's too late. Life is too short to waste on people who don't let you in, but it's also too short to avoid letting others in because you've been hurt before.

I am...enjoying the simple pleasures I have so rarely had.

The shared glances -- goofy, lusty, meaningful, silly, inquisitive -- from across the room. Enjoying a good conversation. Having some laughs.

I like that things aren't so fucking serious all the damned time.

It doesn't take something fancy or thrilling or dramatic to woo me. She held my hand, still sticky with ice milk, and pretended to read my palms. She didn't really know how, though her fingers, tracing, found something else.

I loved holding hands, huddled in the back of a cab. And nuzzling. Good lord, how simple that was! CuteBoy and I did this, coyly last week. Foreheads, cheeks, noses, fingers brushing. Simple pleasures.

I kissed back this time, square on the lips so there could be no doubt. She called me "Pretty Girl" and stroked my cheek.

I should have ridden further with her, but the waiting makes it all the more delicious. I adore her, want to have fun, and hope it won't end badly.

[Next entry: "Reading"]
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