I had a few enjoyable post-Grrl dating affairs, primarly with Melissa, the Tomboy, and Steffa, the Pothead. I was on the cusp of ending things with the Tomboy when I found myself struck by a gorgeous face on a dating site. Now, I generally don't take dating sites too seriously, and very rarely actually write to a woman through them. When I do, I'm simply having a little flirtyfun, and if something actually did happen, I normally wouldn't expect more than a coffee meet.
But the woman before me literally had my keyboard-tapping fingers stop dead as I actually brought my face closer to the screen. She was dressed elegantly in this image on what appeared to be a sumptuous chaise lounge, her short hair playfully set in flapper style. I love flappers. I sat back, sipped my tea, and dropped her a note.
... Of course, we've several hundred miles apart from one another. But when I saw your listing, I knew immediately that I had to explore your profile, and I'm glad that I did. I just had to tell you that you are dropdead gorgeous. And that my heart sunk when I saw you're there...
I didn't expect a reply, but she did, and enthusiastically. What followed over the next few weeks to months was probably what most people who connect over the internet might expect. We wrote frequently, got to know one another, had that endearingly heart-thumping First Call, and connected. We found a lot of common ground between us on politics, art, philosophy, attitude, metaphysics, culture, polyamory. We became friends. Since I love to make new friends, I was elated.I love road trips, and sensually adventurous ones especially. When the time came for me to take the drive to her city in the midwest, I felt like I was going to Disneyworld. A single rose and a bottle of good Canadian whisky in my fist, I met her at her door. The sun was warm behind my back as she blinked and smiled.
Oh, yum. Her smile was radiant, but I also sensed some apprehension from her. No worries, I thought to myself, I'm not making any assumptions here. It seems that I had already become a topic of conversation between her and her pride of girlfriends, which made perfect sense to me. "Whatdyoo mean you're meeting this man... from a foreign country... at your home... for the first time?! Girl, are you crazy?
Shayne was very cool about expressing her newfound concern, and as I enjoyed the graceful energy of her pad (and even more, of her cat), part of me prepared for the very real possibility that I would be asked to go. Yes, I had just driven several hundred miles. Yes, coming to meet her was the highlight of my world at that moment. But, youknow, what's a guy gonna do? Wanting to respect any boundaries she might have, as she and I chatted with the door to her back deck between us, I made mental notes of how I might explore her city and have some quiet fun before grabbing a motel, play tourist, then head home in the morning.
But she didn't ask me to do that. Putting her cat down, I eventually offered to. Instead, she took a step closer, brought a hand to my waist, and parted her lips for a slow, sensual, wonderful kiss. She pressed me against her kitchen counter as her soft lips tasted mine, and when my hand made its way around her warm head and through her soft flapper's hair, my knees went weak when she moaned so slightly. I can't remember the last time my knees went weak.
We've been scandalously excellent friends and lovers since then. It was the best birthday present for me, ever.
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Was it all just a big mistake?
I don't really think so.
Astrologers would tell me that there's significance in that I met Shayne in September 2007, and that after being so annoyingly (and confusingly) wobbly until it came crashing (again, and, finally) in June 2009. They would tell me that it had a lot to do wih Saturn's placement in my chart, and how it was all a big time of crisis for me, and how when it's over, so much will be so good in my world.
And yet, Shayne and I touched each other deeply. I introduced her to many avenues in herself that now she wholly depends upon, especially in terms of her own personal kinks. And for me, Shayne brought me through some important attachment issues I had during my journey of personal transformation and reorientation, even if she didn't (and doesn't) necessarily know how or why.
I had fully expected that we'd be friends, and perhaps even lovers, for life. In the end, as it turned out, she simply couldn't handle the kind of critiques she dished out herself so frequently, so casually, so flippantly, and made so much more gently (by and large) than she would do.
But that's ok. It's ok that she has growing to do, and I'dve been happy to continue mentoring her as she did so. I would still.
I love her. Part of me even admires her some. Part of me is also disappointed, and that's ok too.
She has new love, vibrant sex, and seems to be very happy. I'm equally happy for her; I simply would have wanted to remain a part of her life, and vice versa.
Me, I'm on paths now that she could never really offer. That's sad, in a way, because the truth is that I would have done almost anything for her. I miss her still.
But God knows that should we ever become friends again, the hussy is in for one helluva spanking.
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