Silence, Swagger, Wishful Thinking, and One Golden Vagina
Swagger. I've got it. Well, OK... I've got a little. I like to say that my silence is part of it, part of my mystique. I also like I like to say that she's telling her friends, 'If I ever switch teams, that's the woman I'm going to be with', as she points at me, of course. In the meantime, she has her golden vagina and I have my enigmatic silence. The thought occurred to me tonight nearly out of the blue - I still don't even know her name. It's not a first and I'm not scared
Twice now. Twice. I think I've caught her watching me. Granted, I'm still winning. God knows I've watched her far more, even if I haven't caught her every time. Suffice it to say (and I'm not the least competitive about this issue or most others), she is absolutely, positively NOT watching me with the regularity with which I watch her. End of story.
Yesterday, though, it seemed as if she was waiting for me to notice her. Which probably means she's caught me looking a time or two or twenty. I may be well practiced, but as with everything in my life, I am resolutely far from perfect. I eventually saw her, but when I did, I felt her eyes on me. In such situations, eye contact is a no-no (eyes meeting means an end to any kind of plausible deniability), so I don't know for sure if she was looking me. Once again, I'm left playing with suppositions and wishful thinking.
She nearly scared the swagger out of me waiting for me like that, but not the silence. Usually I see her first. After all this isn't my first rodeo and I am the one who's supposed to be doing the looking. Aren't I? She's the one with the not-so-cute boyfriend and golden vagina. I am, on the other hand, me - the woman with an unruly mop of hair, decent arms, and an unapproachably silent swagger.
Wishfully, I do feel us circling closer. One day last week had I not varied my gym routine, our paths would have intersected instead of merely crossing. I saw her go for what seemed like the intersection, but I was already committed to my change and refused to stop on a dime for her. I took silent pleasure in the moment. If she was 'pursuing' me, I had failed to play along. Nothing like abject disregard to make the heart and ego grow fonder, right? Then just a few days later, I think I see her watching me? It's a damn good thing I don't believe in coincidences or I'd be convinced it was all merely a coincidence.
God help me if she ever talks to me. It'll scare every last bit of swagger out of me. Speak? Not a chance. My swagger is built upon a solid foundation of silence and seeming disregard. If I open my mouth, she'll know. Know what? EVERYTHING. Instantly. Women like her, the ones with golden vaginas, can do that. If my super power is making straight women say, 'if I ever switch teams...', theirs is in stripping me intellectually naked. Remember I told the last beautiful woman who approached me where she could rack her bike. Granted I didn't know that she was a professional triathlete and that particular morning was light-years from her first rodeo, but still... Swagger - Silence = Intellectual indecency.
At this point, I'm good with not knowing her name. I am curious, but not 'extreme measures curious'. Not yet. I wonder if she knows my name. Hell, she has ultimate access. Probably could know my address and phone number, too, if she wanted to. In that regard, she has the upper hand. Potentially. Wishfully. She can keep all that to herself, though. Needless to say, I'm also good with our mutual silence.
Twice now. Twice. I think I've caught her watching me. Granted, I'm still winning. God knows I've watched her far more, even if I haven't caught her every time. Suffice it to say (and I'm not the least competitive about this issue or most others), she is absolutely, positively NOT watching me with the regularity with which I watch her. End of story.
Yesterday, though, it seemed as if she was waiting for me to notice her. Which probably means she's caught me looking a time or two or twenty. I may be well practiced, but as with everything in my life, I am resolutely far from perfect. I eventually saw her, but when I did, I felt her eyes on me. In such situations, eye contact is a no-no (eyes meeting means an end to any kind of plausible deniability), so I don't know for sure if she was looking me. Once again, I'm left playing with suppositions and wishful thinking.
She nearly scared the swagger out of me waiting for me like that, but not the silence. Usually I see her first. After all this isn't my first rodeo and I am the one who's supposed to be doing the looking. Aren't I? She's the one with the not-so-cute boyfriend and golden vagina. I am, on the other hand, me - the woman with an unruly mop of hair, decent arms, and an unapproachably silent swagger.
Wishfully, I do feel us circling closer. One day last week had I not varied my gym routine, our paths would have intersected instead of merely crossing. I saw her go for what seemed like the intersection, but I was already committed to my change and refused to stop on a dime for her. I took silent pleasure in the moment. If she was 'pursuing' me, I had failed to play along. Nothing like abject disregard to make the heart and ego grow fonder, right? Then just a few days later, I think I see her watching me? It's a damn good thing I don't believe in coincidences or I'd be convinced it was all merely a coincidence.
God help me if she ever talks to me. It'll scare every last bit of swagger out of me. Speak? Not a chance. My swagger is built upon a solid foundation of silence and seeming disregard. If I open my mouth, she'll know. Know what? EVERYTHING. Instantly. Women like her, the ones with golden vaginas, can do that. If my super power is making straight women say, 'if I ever switch teams...', theirs is in stripping me intellectually naked. Remember I told the last beautiful woman who approached me where she could rack her bike. Granted I didn't know that she was a professional triathlete and that particular morning was light-years from her first rodeo, but still... Swagger - Silence = Intellectual indecency.
At this point, I'm good with not knowing her name. I am curious, but not 'extreme measures curious'. Not yet. I wonder if she knows my name. Hell, she has ultimate access. Probably could know my address and phone number, too, if she wanted to. In that regard, she has the upper hand. Potentially. Wishfully. She can keep all that to herself, though. Needless to say, I'm also good with our mutual silence.
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