I love men. I do!
Speaking extremely generally, I love how their bodies of all sizes are constructed for physical strength. I love their deeper voices. I love the way being with the right one can make you feel safe as well as swept. A beautiful man can cast a hundred spells, but an ugly one can curse the worst. I love men.
I’ve just been too busy for them. Writing, schooling, working, living, wake up, coffee, rinse, repeat, just way too busy. The occasional delightful or disastrous date and some chuckles on the online sites are more for distraction than anything else. Just too busy.
But, then three weeks ago, I see this person and every cliché you can think of just dominoes through my chest, down my spine, into my brain, everything. I could not stop staring, in spite that I was horrified that I might be intrusive. My brain stopped. The world stopped. Cupid shot me with an Uzi.
…and sexy and strong and all woman. Not a man in drag. One hundred percent unmistakably woman, all estrogen, everywhere. “Look ma, no penis!” Woman.
I didn’t notice at first because the space around me imploded. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t even think to breathe. Everything was interrupted all at once and I puked a little as I found myself thinking in Hallmark cards – aw, how sweet, how disgusting. But, when I did notice, nothing changed; I wasn’t turned off, disappointed, or anything. Lightning struck and that storm just kept right on raging.
Okay, she’s a woman and I’m straight. This has to be a huge deal. According to sociological standards, my world is supposed to be completely rocked now, right? What does this mean?
I deliberated very seriously for two whole seconds and came to the conclusion that I don’t care. My hair didn’t fall out, I didn’t grow horns, and I didn’t suddenly start bleeding acid out of my nose. My uterus and all my body parts are still in-tact. I am still a writer, a good friend, a loving conure mama, a good student, and a hard worker. What was important to me before is still important to me today.
Yes, my world has been rocked, but only because she’s in it now. Whatever lightning struck, it was from her own magic, not the wrath of some pissed off invisible man in the clouds.
In truth, I really don’t know what it means or what it’s supposed to mean, but I do know that I did not choose for this to happen. I did not look at her and go, “Oh, you know what would be great? How about I just purposely accelerate my heart rate, then risk losing my friends and not being serviced at restaurants because I want to hold hands with another woman? What fun!”
All I felt was energy. And it just so happens that the source of that energy was feminine divine, not masculine. Was it a surprise? Yes, yes it was. But, is it Armageddon? Of course not. I’m still here and my name is still the same.
If being attracted to her means I’m bi, then fine, I’m bi. If it means I’m slightly bent rather than outright straight, then okay. Whatever. If people don’t want to be part of my life anymore because of this then I will be sad — best of luck and love to them. All I can think about is the sound of her velvet voice, that amazing smile, and how I felt like my soul was kissed and made invincible when she told me her name.
She could be a Muppet from Mars for all I care.
What matters the most and is the most frightening to me right now, more than whether or not I’ll be accepted or what could happen if I show my affection in public, is getting up the guts to ask her out.