On the way over to Zelda’s, Syrah
comments, So, you’ve never met this Gabe guy, right? When I agree that I haven’t, she actually asks, What if he’s a knockout? You swing both ways?
“I don’t ‘swing’ at all. If you mean have I ever been attracted to a guy, well, yeah. But I’ve never acted
on it, or on any attraction, for that matter.” The statement rings
true, and when she asks why
not, I’m straightforward. “Before Sonora, we never lived one place long enough for me to hook up with anyone.
And now, I guess, I’m a little scared.”
Afraid
Of lust, its recent bloom inside of me. Powerful.
How do I control it?
Do I even want to try?
Anxious
about the mechanics,
seventeen and never
been kissed, at least not in the context of romance.
Nervous
I’ll make an improper move.
Choose the wrong person and not be able to correct a dire mistake of the heart.
Uncertain
of outcomes. The future, and my place in it, with little to zero ability to take charge of its direction.
Petrified
of falling all the way in love.
Lacking anything like a role model, commitment isn’t something I understand.
Beyond This Fear
Exists bone-deep trepidation about my dad’s reaction
if he finds out I’ve fallen for anyone at all.
Sharing isn’t his best thing, and I’m pretty sure the idea of divvying my affection with someone else would
drive him totally crazy.
A guy would present a certain kind of threat, of course.
But a girl? How can I ever confess that? It would push him all the way over the edge, and that’s a shadowy, perilous place I’d rather not revisit.
There’s teeth-rattling pain there, wrapped in the skin of my father’s hands.
I’m sure the vast majority of parents expect their kids to partner up eventually, but Dad isn’t like most people.
The topic is off-limits.
Inaccessible. And I’m a whole lot safer keeping it that way.
I Don’t Share
These intimate details
about my hesitant psyche
with Syrah. I’m not sure
I could confess them
to Monica, and probably
shouldn’t. The last thing I want to do is hurt her.
Besides, as I recently read in a book, Taking no chances means wasting your dreams.
It’s past time to take chances.
I’m considering my dreams when Syrah drops me off.
Stuck mid-musing about
my first kiss, I rap my knuckles on Zelda’s front door, fully anticipating she’ll answer it.
But when it opens, the face on the far side is unexpected, and so is my reaction to it.
Oh, hi. You must be Ariel.
I’m Gabe. Come in. His smile softens his angular face, and when I look into the deep ponds of his eyes, interest surfaces.
In him. In me. It’s instant connection.
But what, exactly, can that mean?
Maya
Tomorrow will be three months since I met Jason. We’ve seen each other almost every weekend, and our relationship moved quickly to love. I mean, I guess it’s love, though I’m not sure it’s exactly the “deep, forever” kind, at least not yet. I’m willing to give it time, especially now. Meanwhile, he’s buying the beer, and the sex is amazing.
Jason wasn’t my first. I’ve been with other guys, all around my age or a little older, but hurried backseat sex, fumbling with belt buckles and condoms, didn’t really do much for me. Jason springs for a room, or sometimes borrows one from a friend who lives here in Austin. With plenty of space and no prying eyes, we can be relaxed about making love. It feels closer to that than rutting. Plus, we always do something frivolous before and after.
A sergeant expects to be in charge, so I’ve been subtle about how I’ve directed things, not that it’s exactly difficult to maneuver a guy into sex. But high school boys don’t care that they’re being played, mostly because they don’t believe a girl is capable of such a thing. A man like Jason has been around the block a time or two, experienced decent partnering, and awful.
He’s never been married, but has been engaged twice. The first time he was still in boot camp, but when his back was turned, she hooked up with a guy who owned a car lot. “More money in selling beaters than my lousy paychecks could compete with,” he told me. The second time, his fiancée couldn’t cope with his deployment to the Gulf War. “She was sure I’d come home in a body bag,” he explained. “Too bad. I loved that damn woman.”
He claims he’s been waiting for someone to love ever since, and that was six years ago. Pretty sure he hasn’t been waiting for someone to sleep with, but that’s okay. He’s with me now, and with luck he’ll decide to stay once I share my news. If not, there’s always abortion.