We met this past summer at Prop during Pride Week. I was not expecting to meet anyone, since I went with the purpose of being Jane's "bodyguard" from her then ex and now girlfriend. I almost took the position too seriously. Perhaps it was because I knew how much Susan had hurt Jane; or maybe it was my own arrogance liking the idea of protecting someone.
At some point in the evening I met Randi. Within moments of meeting, we had found our way to an open spot on one of the couches, where we proceeded to kiss. So much for being a bodyguard. Though, surprisingly, I had done my job and I even managed to give my two cents to Susan who I managed to bump into on the way out of the bathroom.
Cutting to the chase, Randi and I had a half-stand that night. It wasn't a complete one-night stand. Nothing was done to me, it was all about Randi that night, but we stopped midway through. There was someone in picture for her, who had shown up with someone else. In sense she was using me; however, for some reason, it never felt that way. Maybe it was my mild intoxication - intoxication of the mind, of the sensations - feeling another body, the tango of lips that I hadn't felt since the week before. I was craving more from my previous encounter in Connecticut the weekend before.
I left the next morning, it was awkward, it was uncomfortable; however, I tried to play it as cool as possible. I reminded Randi that she deserved to be treated with respect and what this woman had done to her last night was despicable. I kissed her gently on the lips and let one of my hands fall down her cheek. I was nervous - I had never been in this situation before. Should I kiss her more? Do I say more? Do I - ? I stopped myself short in my train of thought and let myself out.
A couple of weeks before I moved into New York City, I received two text messages from Randi. She told me I came into her thoughts that day, that she wasn't sure I would remember her (how could I not?), that she apologized for the awkwardness of the situation - that she was in a rough spot and hoped I was doing well. Naturally, I wrote her back. I emphasized that my style wasn't to go home with someone the first night of meeting them; but that I was worried about her and how she had been treated and hoped she was doing well. I also told her I was moving into New York in a few weeks. And so began our correspondence. Mildly flirtatious - at least I thought so.
It's going beyond that now. We go out to dinner and movies, we talk about our exes, we talk about our coming out stories, we lean into each other, we smile, we hug. That's just it - we end every meeting with a hug. There's a part of me that loves spending time with Randi, exploring this city that I now call home. I feel comfortable with Randi, I like the laughter we share and the warm smiles over food. But every now and then, I try to test the waters - to try to kiss her at least on the cheek to see if it triggers something else.
There are times I feel as if Randi is disinterested in me - or pretty much anything I say. She emits this vibe of boredom when I speak and perhaps I am being too harsh, but I don't know how much longer I would want to be around someone like her. I want to be around someone who laughs with me (which she does), someone who asks me about me or my work or my interests. Randi doesn't seem to take interest. Randi's even taken her phone out during conversation - a pet peeve of mine; however, I have blown it off and told her I work in an industry where people are constantly looking at something other than the person who is speaking to them (which I do and my boss does it all the time - it's rather annoying).
I guess it is this day in age. But I would like to think that most people could put their phones down for more than a half hour. Randi's not one of those people. Tonight her phone "died" and she looked at me with this look as if her dog had died. "I feel so," she paused. And I knew exactly what she was going to say so I interjected, "naked". "Exactly!" Randi remarked excitedly.
I want to kiss Randi, but there's a part of me that feels it should have happened by now. She has nicknames for me (Ginger spice is the latest). Today she called me kiddo. I began analyzing this - and then I stopped myself. It was hard not to analyze it because of the fact kiddo just seems so, well, juvenile. Not to mention that I called a number of my friends in high school kiddo. It was a term of endearment. Not to mention, my dad calls me kiddo. Yikes.
We went to Serendipity for dessert tonight. Yes, that cliched restaurant that a movie was named after and scenes were filmed. And you know what? I loved every moment of it. It was so charming, cozy and delightful. There's a but... can you tell by the way I'm writing? We were seated next to an overly affectionate couple and it was quite nauseating. As much as I look forward to having that day return, I think I would manage to curb my affection for my loved one in public, to keep people from potentially losing their appetites.
I could sense Randi was looking at the couple too - I thought briefly about what she might be thinking about looking at this couple. It was uncomfortable after awhile, especially since you couldn't escape the affection. It was visible in the corner of my eye and couple that with the mirror - I couldn't escape mentally either.
When we left and walked towards her subway stop (I was walking back to my apartment), I asked her if she would like to come back for another glass of wine. I was quickly turned down due to being tired - it was a fast denial and it stung. But I didn't let it sting for long because the reality of the situation was that Randi had only returned from the West Coast one day earlier. She had had a brutal journey back to New York City thanks to the post-Christmas blizzard. I refused to be upset.
But as I walked home tonight, with my Ipod playing in my ears and the cold wind blasting me in both directions - I felt confused. I felt uncertain. Friends? Frightened attracted women? Did I actually feel anything for Randi? Where was that spark that I felt the last night she and I had had dinner before Randi went home for the holiday? Where was my stomach flip when I looked at her over the candlelight at our table?
I know that not everyone I meet I am meant to be with. This isn't something that HAS to happen. And I'm okay with it not happening. I like the idea of dating and meeting all sorts of women to find that one. But she keeps coming back and I keep replying. Perhaps it is because I am new to the city and I don't want to lose this connection, even though this connection is far from being in the scene. We're removed from the scene in which we met. We met in chaos, perhaps by serendipity. And now, time will only tell...
