Blowing up her spot

I knew what this blog was going to be--relaying an encounter with a woman I had some nights back--but I was unsure of the structure around the story. But I think I've got it. Here goes.

I like women. I know that is not a bold statement and it's not one that should surprise anyone (although it sometimes takes some convincing, depending on what I'm wearing at the time). In order to understand why I have this story to tell, though, it's important to understand that as the foundation.

Further, to distance myself from the otherwise internally consistent and logical conclusion that I am a shallow misogynist (which I am not; any antisocial tendencies are deep and not specific to one particular group except MAYBE dudes in their early 20's who wear backwards baseball caps and flip-flops everywhere they go), I have to distinguish different aspects of my admiration for the female humans. I will do so by pulling out two Woody Allen quotes:

I love you! I... I want you in a way of cherishing your... your... your totality and your otherness, and... and in the sense of a presence, and a being, and a whole coming and a going in a room with grapefruit, and... and love of a thing of nature in a sense of not wanting or being jealous of the thing that a person possesses.

 and

I like pretty girls. I'm old-fashioned that way.

"Liking women," then, can be intellectual/emotional connection or can be a physical draw. This blog post is (once we get through the voluminous  prologue) about physical attraction.

I like women.

I like their hair. I like their eyebrows. I like their eyes. I like their noses. I like their smiles and their teeth. I like their breasts and their stomachs and their butts and their hips. I like their legs and their ankles. I like the way they dress, including their shoes.

This is not to say that I like all of those bits and pieces on every woman. And it's not to say there aren't other places and things related to a woman that I enjoy, but it makes for a relatively comprehensive list, generously laid out in general top-to-bottom order for easy reference. You're welcome.

Several nights ago, I discovered a new way I like women: I like their backs.

How did I discover this? I saw an amazing back.

I was at Hula Hula with friends and the aforementioned Amazing Back Lady was there, too. She had a drink and sang a song and then sat back down at her spot, alone. She was also wearing some kind of amazing sweater/top thing that exposed a generous portion of her back to great effect.


Whether it was the alcohol or the intoxicating presence of her back, I approached her at some point. We had a good five minute conversation or so, in which I complimented her back (I live like Sarbanes-Oxley applies to social engagements, for the most part) and which went, I thought, pretty well.

My friends and I were leaving for the evening, and so I wrapped up our conversation... which took an unexpected, blog-inducing turn. It went something like this:

Me: So... I had fun talking.
Amazing Back Lady: Yeah. Me, too.
Me: I'd love to hang out sometime. Maybe get a drink and food or something?
ABL: (slightly wincing) ...
Me: Umm... OK. Let's see. Do you have a boyfriend?
ABL: No.
Me: Do you like boys?
ABL: Yes.
Me: Did you have a good enough time talking to me to do it again sometime?
ABL: Yes, but...
Me: (trying to put on a charming smile) A ringing endorsement, indeed!
ABL: Haha. Yeah, I do, but... you haven't bought me a drink.
Me: (feeling my smile fade) Oh...
ABL: Yeah, you haven't bought me a drink.
Me: I don't do that for people I don't know. Sorry. I'll buy you drinks and food or whatever you want if/when we go out, but... yeah.
ABL: OK.
(Number given)
Me: OK, cool. I gotta run, but it was fun meeting you and I look forward to seeing you again.
ABL: The thing about the drink is that you've been blowing up my spot for ten minutes and...

Walking away from people when they're in the middle of telling you something is rude. In fact, I find it to be one of the least tolerable things people can do in polite society (along with wearing backwards baseball caps and flip-flops in public). I can't remember the last time I physically turned from someone and walked away when they were telling me something.

Oh, wait... I do remember now: it was when Amazing Back Lady was acting like we were hanging out in a strip club and her manager was going to yell at her for not having dudes buying her enough drinks.

So... Amazing Back Lady not only taught me that I can be thoroughly fascinated by a woman's back... she also taught me that I'm not fascinated enough to buy a drink due to it OR put up with bullshit after I'm unwilling to do so.

If she'd had amazing legs, on the other hand...

Conversation Dehydration

I know this woman. We’ll call her Sunshine. I met Sunshine while I was on a date with her friend some time ago and I was … impressed. But she had a boyfriend (kind of… maybe… I don’t know) and I was on a date with her friend.

Fast forward several months. I’d not been on another date with her friend. She’d become fully single. I sent her a message on Facebook, asking her out for a drink and she demurred.

("To demur" means, by the way, to politely refuse a suggestion… and she was very nice, very polite, and very classy about saying “no”... but I didn't take it as her saying “never".)

A bit more time passed, and this past weekend I was at a club with friends. Sunshine was there and I had an opportunity to speak to her a couple of times. She looked great and I think I successfully managed not to stare too much in our first conversation. She talked about how she preferred to hang out in person, and that she used Facebook for work. She also managed to slip in, though, that she sometimes is amused by my Facebook wall. And she repeated “sometimes” with a smirk. I tried to keep my poker face on a bit but nodded and said I’d see her later and took my drink (which I would shortly thereafter drop in its entirety on the floor) and headed off.

The second time when we spoke, then, I was feeling pretty good about things. Maybe it was merely that I’d had enough alcohol to be incapable of reliably grasping a full glass of rum and diet, but I felt good.

Sunshine and I bumped into each other in line for the restroom and we’d said one or two things when another woman came up. We had a conversation that … could have gone better. It went something like this:

Woman: Hi Sunshine!

Sunshine: Hi. This is my friend Ed.

Woman: Hi Ed!

Me: Hey there.

Woman: (to Sunshine) Ooh… he’s great!

Sunshine: OK… ?

Woman: So… why haven’t you introduced me to him before?

Sunshine: Um…

Woman: How long have you guys been going out?

Sunshine: ...

It all happened in slow motion. It all happened so fast. The woman had not only forced Sunshine to deny everything (including, but not limited to, any interest in me) but also forced me to watch Sunshine’s face as she did so.

It went something like this:

"Hi, Sunshine!"

 

"Ooh… he’s great!"

"So… why haven’t you introduced me to him before?"

"How long have you guys been going out?"

Yes, Sunshine went from a plump emotional grape to a shriveled social raisin over the course of that brief conversation. It was conversation dehydration.

For better or worse, it was my turn to use the restroom. I stepped in and didn't see Sunshine the rest of the night. I'm sure she was back to her normal grape-y self in no time. 

As for me? I shrugged and got some more rum and told myself that at least I'd gotten a blog post idea out of it...