Forgave Me That Past

August 31, 2012 § Leave a comment

Twice shy stretches to forever shy, at least at work. Interest in her awaits interest in me. Every thought of attempting to get to know her is shadowed by my treatment of Herself and how I have been judged for it. And she is shy, like Herself, and I don’t think I can work that hard again. She doesn’t know it, but it’s her turn. I have hope, just not in her. I have hope in the woman who doesn’t presume to know me as she thinks she knows all men; the woman who isn’t waiting for me; the woman who shows her interest; the woman who could never think of me as an obsessive monster–not before she got to know me and forgave me that past.


Indifferent Grasp

July 6, 2012 § Leave a comment

I’m afraid to get closer than a flirt, but the prospect excites me. At least I can imagine it would. I want it but have no gauge of my readiness for it. Can I help but be shy about it? Can I help but try again? I will allow myself the reticence and the hope alike and vibrate to the midline–me natural. I want to not want so much as I’ve been asking for–rather, I just don’t want to ask for it (or for anything). When I can give is when I can receive. How do I do that? I want to believe that I’ve grown from all this, but I’m afraid to test it. Time will ace it–that’s me saying it, and even believing it, but compliance is in the hands of my patience, whose grasp is indifferent.

In My Pajamas

May 15, 2012 § 4 Comments

Getting to know myself has required a lot of time alone, but I have no intention of becoming hermetically sealed in my apartment. I bore myself sometimes. After the movies, books, music, and writing, there’s still no one there to talk to about them. I talk to myself, but I always know what I’m going to say. So I go to Carytown. It’s crowded, as a city street should be, with lots of shops from which I might actually buy something, but I’m just looking for conversation. I never know if I’m going to get it, but I know early on which it’s going to be. The first person I have opportunity to talk to is the bellwether. The sooner I get out after my morning coffee, the better chance I have to ignore my shyness. The conversation doesn’t start if I don’t initiate it. Some days I just can’t do that. It seems that on those days no one talks to me, either. Is it just that kind of world? or do I look like I don’t want to interact? Give me a couple more choices. On those days I want to think that if I stay out there a little while longer something will happen, but all that happens is I get home much later than I intended, feeling I’ve wasted the day, made no progress at all in my socialization, and dug myself a little deeper into my loneliness. Sounds like something I could have done at home in my pajamas.

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