Erm, do you follow me on Twitter? Yeah I have an 8tracks here. I don’t post any playlists so you can only really see my liked playlists.
I didn’t really specify so neither would be incorrect. :)
You’ll probably be nervous. That’s okay. And it’s okay to tell her that. I guarantee she’s nervous too. Shake the nerves off with laughter. When she steps out her front door, notice what she’s wearing. Compliment her hair or her clothes or anything. Make it an honest compliment. She put effort into looking as well as she does, so refrain from saying something like, “You look nice.” With the way you notice things, it shouldn’t be hard.
Now, I know how quiet you can be. But this will be a missed opportunity if you don’t take the time to ask her about who she is. Everyone is fascinatingly diverse when you get past his or her socially reinforced exterior. Therefore, this girl is, first and foremost, a person you want to learn more about. That is the attitude you should have. So ask her questions. This is your chance to talk to her one-on-one. Many people miss this chance and it’s a crime. Start simple, like wading into the kiddie pool. Ask her about her day and what she likes to do in her spare time. Follow up—her favorite book, show, movie, food. You can learn a lot about a person that way. Ask her what she would rescue from her burning house. Listen and remember the details. She is giving you pieces to a puzzle you don’t know the picture of. Delve deeper. Ask her about what makes her excited or what she’s passionate about. Don’t ask her if she’s ever been in love or about the past men in her life unless she brings it up first. Otherwise, it’s out of bounds. In fact, don’t ask anything you wouldn’t feel comfortable answering.
Keep your phone in your pocket. You don’t need to know the time, and any texts or tweets can wait. Right now, just pay attention to her. Attention is the most basic form of love and respect. Having someone look at you and respond to what you’re saying is an incredible feeling.
It’s okay to take time to answer her questions. I know you like time to put your words together. But give more than your typical one-word answers. Make paragraphs. Have a conversation.
Don’t comment on how much or how little she eats. She may be self-conscious about it in a way you aren’t. She may also be self-conscious about her body. Don’t stare at her breasts. Her face is higher up. Would you want someone staring at your penis while you talked?
When you take her home, walk her to the door. If the date is going well, you may kiss her. And don’t be afraid to ask. But don’t kiss her unexpectedly; give her time to react because she may be caught off guard. You don’t know her past experiences with other guys.
Lastly, do not take this woman for granted. She willingly took time out of her night and spent it with you. Just you. That’s more than what most people would do so be sure to thank her.
At 3am I stumbled into the kitchen. I couldn’t remember what I’d come in here for so I turned on the lights and grabbed a coke out of the fridge. The harsh fluorescent light burrowed into my eyes so I turned it off and hopped up onto the counter, waiting to remember what it was I wanted. Between fading in and out of sleep, I managed to focus long enough on a spot on the floor where the corners of four white tiles met.
“What are you doing up?”
Andy peered around the corner.
“Hey,” I mumbled. “I couldn’t sleep.” It was mostly true.
He put his hands around my hips, his forearms resting on my thighs, and placed a small kiss on my sternum. His skin on mine was still a feeling I was getting used to, a language I was beginning to learn.
“Do you want me to stay up with you?”
“I don’t want you to be tired in the morning.”
Then he gave me a look—one of those looks I didn’t know existed until then—that said It’d be a pleasure to be tired because of you.
Outside, a car drove down the street, tires peeling into the distance as it turned right or left. There was also another sound, more constant than the first: the gentle hum of cicadas. I looked around the apartment. My view from the kitchen offered me a clear shot of our bookcase, but that was all.
It took six months for Andy to convince me we should merge our bookcases. Practically, it made sense: built for one, the living room had enough space for a futon, a small circular table, a few chairs and of course one bookcase. Until then, we’d been moving the folding chairs into a closet, allowing room for my own bookcase. But then that meant having to get them out each time we wanted to eat. The inconvenience was a small price to pay to keep a semblance of individuality. Andy thought otherwise.
Eventually we compromised. I agreed to move the books that would fit as long as those that were his and those that were mine remained separate. He agreed and we filled the spaces between them with Abraham Lincoln bookends—a gift from Andy’s grandmother. The other books, the ones that didn’t fit, the ones I loved too much to give to a metaphor, sat in a pile by my bed.
After a month it was clear our books were invariably growing closer. With each new purchase, we put them the only place that made sense: the in-between space on the shelf. And now at 3am, our books were just a slim chapbook apart. On one level, his copy of Leaves of Grass leaned against my copy of The Bell Jar for support.
“Wait in the room for me.”
It was a question, but I didn’t want to make it sound like one. He gave me another kiss and retreated. I steeped myself in silence. But even in the darkness, the fridge whirred on and the cicadas continued to sing. Twenty minutes later I stumbled out of the kitchen and back to bed.
The Asexual Visibility and Education Network (AVEN) is performing a large-scale survey.
We are looking for any respondents who are part of the asexual spectrum, as well as people who are not part of the asexual spectrum. This survey includes some sensitive questions about sexual topics. Please distribute this announcement.
The survey is open for some time. Later, statistical results will be published, providing crucial information about the demographics and needs of asexual-spectrum people.
The survey can be accessed here.
I hate when I get like this.
Happy coming out day!
Started reading The Trial and I really like it.
Watching Ozymandias because I’m a masochist.
I’m so tired of feeling like a background.
My school is offering a contemporary lit class next semester and I reeeally want to take it.
I love this
Thanks! I really liked writing it!