Posts Tagged ‘The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle’

I Don’t Know Why I Kissed You

January 27, 2014

But I just want to be friends.

He told me after coffee today.

Oh thank God.

Not that I wasn’t interested in more than just friends, I was, that was why I was there in the middle of my day in the middle of a neighborhood I don’t go to when I am not working, because it reminds me of work.

Kind of fun, actually to be in a coffee shop I normally only duck into to grab an Americano and hit their restroom before heading to the park.

Good people watching.

Ran into a guy I took a TS Eliot class with in Madison, at the University, taught by Professor Serena Pondrom.

I won’t ever forget her.

She said, “my tests will make you smarter and you will actually learn when you are taking them.”

Fuck my mother.

She was right.

It hurt taking those written exams, I remember how cramped my hand would be after filling a blue book, or two, I think my final I might have actually written so much that I started in on a second book.

I learned how much I knew when I was doing the writing and it astounded me.

It was also painful, I felt like my brain was being yanked out of my ear, but I was learning and I left that final realizing that I knew a great deal more about TS Eliot than I had believed and to this day that course remains one of the best classes I ever had at University.

That was James, the young gay guy, who still is gay, not quite so young, but still looking good.

Then I ran into my old Sifu from the Kung Fu academy I attended early in my living in San Francisco–Daniel at the Praying Mantis School of Kung Fu–and we chatted briefly as well, kung fu, Burning Man, work.

It was good to see my life unfolding in the golden sunlight pushing into the coffee shop, smell the good smells in the shop and hang out with my friend.

I know why you kissed me.

Duh.

I am irresistible.

Giggle.

I am attractive.

I look like I might kiss back pretty good.

And maybe if there had been more chemistry, the kiss was a bit of a surprise, there might have been more, but there was not the chance to really explore it and now, there won’t be.

“Just let me clarify,” I said, “the kiss was completely a non-sequitor, won’t be happening again, and you just want to be friends.”

“Yes,” he said, “are you ok with that?”

“Of course!” I said.

You know what?

I really am.

Oh, my friend’s great, smart, healthy, attractive, a dream boat, but not for me.

Thank God.

Get another one out-of-the-way, let go the fantasy, and direct my attention to the man you want me to be with, I don’t have time to waste on men who aren’t interested in being with me, the quicker I find out the better.

I mean I am willing to do the work, so let’s get to it.

I am willing to get hurt.

I am willing to try different things.

I am willing to date and fall down and kiss people and be kissed and thank you so much for your honesty.

“No, it really is ok,” I grinned at my friend and then said, “now I don’t feel so damn self-conscious about dancing in front of you,” and my feet broke out into a little dance jig.

Prince was playing on the stereo.

“I just want your extra time and your kiss.”

My God has a fucking funny sense of humour.

“You saved me so much time,” I added, “I really appreciate knowing.”

“I want to be your friend, I want relationships with people in San Francisco, I am going to be here for a while.” He concluded.

“You got it, I want to be your friend too,” I said and smiled.

That felt great.

We hugged.

It was special.

But not stupid special.

Just good.

Clear.

Then I hopped on my bike and headed off to my Sunday night commitment at Church and Market and I don’t know why and I don’t really care to figure it out, but I felt up lifted, elated, and really quite happy.

“What do you want to do right now?” I asked myself as I realized I had a spare half hour to kill before I needed to be where I needed to be.

“Books!”

I gleefully darted into Aardvark and cruised the aisles.

I picked up a copy of Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.

I read IQ84 a couple of years ago and it really stuck with me.

I think I shall like this too.

What else shall I like?

Acceptance.

“You look amazing, your physical recovery is incredible,” he said to me outside of Our Lady of SafeWay this evening as we were winding up.

“I mean, I remember your beautiful face, but it’s been a while since I have seen you, and you look great.” He finished and gave me a big hug.

We were talking about a little incident that happened yesterday when I was hula hooping with my housemates daughter out on the sidewalk decorated with chalk hearts and candy skulls.

She had reached up and said, “what’s this?”

Pinching the excess skin underneath my upper arm.

Ha.

I was wearing a sleeveless shirt and it was all hanging out.

“This is what happens when you lose a lot of weight and your skin has stretched out from it,” I said, being calm and not grabbing her hand as she reached up to touch it again.

“Wierd,” she said and then went back to coloring hearts on the sidewalk.

“Hey,” she said suddenly, “betcha can’t hula hoop with all three of the hoops.”

“Let me try,” I said and slipped all three around my middle.

Turns out I can.

“You are amazing,” she said.

Extra arm skin completely forgotten.

How refreshing to see that, like I am just this person and I look this way and it’s all a gift, the body, the experiences, the evidence always with me that I showed up and continue to show up and do the work and I get to have some amazing physical recovery.

Fantastic.

And I am a great friend.

And eventually, sooner rather than later, I will be a great girlfriend.

Now.

Who’s next for a kiss?

 


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