Thursday, May 25, 2006
Those We Can't Have (Pt.1)
So, what kind of woman would I like to be with, in an ideal world? I am not sure if I have a type yet, I debate that. Oddly enough, the one woman I have met whom I really dig is a woman I am not having sex with at all. Hrumph! How the hell did that happen? Believe me, I scratch my head about this one. My friend N lives in L.A. She is a trim little squeak, a Mighty Mouse with muscles. About 5' 4 or so, around 120, shortish in other words with short curly salt and pepper hair. With a fine, absolutely Roman sort of nose. We could make a good physical contrast, as I am taller and blonde. But we are both really fit women.
N is that nearly extinct species, a lesbian who is actually into sports beyond just softball. N loves tennis. It's a big love she and I share, as N began her own blog all about tennis, and I have ended up being a contributor to it. N is unusual though because she is far more than just an avid jock. She's interesting, educated and well-read. Well-travelled too. Loves chess and opera. I felt blown away that there are actually cultivated and athletic gay women like this. Usually it's the prerogative of the gay men. Somewhere, in my very Roman fantasies, that is, she and I are gay boys at heart, and we're hanging up at the villa with Luchino and the other boys. Luchino being Luchino Visconti, the now deceased Italian film, stage and operatic director. Well known for his connoisseur-ship, I guess we could say, of beautiful young men, talented or otherwise.
At first though I was uncertain how I felt about N, or how she felt about me.
How did we meet? Tennis was one avenue, but actually it was sex parties that threw us together. N and I were part of a planning committee of a small group of women who wanted to rent space for a monthly, ongoing girlie sex party. Since we all know, or are about to know, how obnoxious that proposition can be, suffice to say that N and I moved beyond that. The group disbanded, broken up by the usual lesbian lack of testosterone or whatever it is that makes commitment and follow-through possible. And N and I discovered our own interests in common by this point.
So why are we not rolling around in the sack now? Well, sadly, for a variety of reasons, the main being N has no interest in going there with me. Another one is that my partner Dave and I left L.A. to move upstate, and this occurred right around the time when N became a real person of interest to me. But in a way that was a necessary part of the discovery process. We started an email correspondence, ranging over a variety of subjects, and through that I discovered how much I valued N's friendship. But the woman lives in L.A.
N grew up with two sets of parents, the birth ones, and the adopted ones who raised her. Her birth father was a famous Italian composer, I recognized the name right away and brought it up among the steering committee women. Maybe I should not have waxed so enthusiastic in public about my discovery. N seemed rather reserved about it all. I felt like I had outed her in front of the steering committee, although it seems some of the women have discovered who she is related to.
One night she and I meet in Hollywood to check out a possible sex party venue. The place is a real dive, and we quickly take our leave of it. N invites me up to her place, where we chat for a while. Or at least I chat for a while. N seems very reserved, and I feel like I am working hard to hold up the conversation. Later, I feel annoyed, and I write to her, why did you invite me up when you then seemed not to want to talk with me?
On another occasion we experience another miscommunication, which leads me to believe N has hung up the phone on me. This is really annoying. How can I work with this person as part of our group? Now I wonder if I can. But to her credit, N takes my flaming well, she even calls me up to make amends. She happens to catch me when I have imbibed a few hits of pot, so I happen to be very loose and free in what I say to her. Very uncensored. It is during this conversation that I make noises about wanting to come on to her at a sex party. "Well, I don't know about that," says N. I hadn't meant to say it, but it tumbled out. Again I have the feeling N is annoyed with me.
Where would I have wanted to go with this woman? I speak of it as a past tense thing because N seems clear that I am not for her. Besides, I live in the northern part of the state now, she is in L.A. One moment I ask her, am I too butch for you. No you're not, I hear back, but that's not the issue.
I am too afraid to ask what the issue is. So I assume it is her not being attracted to me. You could probably toss in, as an undercurrent at least, the fact I am bi and live with a man. N is strictly gay, and I knew that from the outset. But I also sensed that she had a vastly more tolerant view of bi women than some of her compatriots. Still though, N may be a woman who likes being tucked in at night, after all. Every night, preferably. I don't know. I know she is looking now herself.
We're all looking, all the time.
TO BE CONTINUED
N is that nearly extinct species, a lesbian who is actually into sports beyond just softball. N loves tennis. It's a big love she and I share, as N began her own blog all about tennis, and I have ended up being a contributor to it. N is unusual though because she is far more than just an avid jock. She's interesting, educated and well-read. Well-travelled too. Loves chess and opera. I felt blown away that there are actually cultivated and athletic gay women like this. Usually it's the prerogative of the gay men. Somewhere, in my very Roman fantasies, that is, she and I are gay boys at heart, and we're hanging up at the villa with Luchino and the other boys. Luchino being Luchino Visconti, the now deceased Italian film, stage and operatic director. Well known for his connoisseur-ship, I guess we could say, of beautiful young men, talented or otherwise.
At first though I was uncertain how I felt about N, or how she felt about me.
How did we meet? Tennis was one avenue, but actually it was sex parties that threw us together. N and I were part of a planning committee of a small group of women who wanted to rent space for a monthly, ongoing girlie sex party. Since we all know, or are about to know, how obnoxious that proposition can be, suffice to say that N and I moved beyond that. The group disbanded, broken up by the usual lesbian lack of testosterone or whatever it is that makes commitment and follow-through possible. And N and I discovered our own interests in common by this point.
So why are we not rolling around in the sack now? Well, sadly, for a variety of reasons, the main being N has no interest in going there with me. Another one is that my partner Dave and I left L.A. to move upstate, and this occurred right around the time when N became a real person of interest to me. But in a way that was a necessary part of the discovery process. We started an email correspondence, ranging over a variety of subjects, and through that I discovered how much I valued N's friendship. But the woman lives in L.A.
N grew up with two sets of parents, the birth ones, and the adopted ones who raised her. Her birth father was a famous Italian composer, I recognized the name right away and brought it up among the steering committee women. Maybe I should not have waxed so enthusiastic in public about my discovery. N seemed rather reserved about it all. I felt like I had outed her in front of the steering committee, although it seems some of the women have discovered who she is related to.
One night she and I meet in Hollywood to check out a possible sex party venue. The place is a real dive, and we quickly take our leave of it. N invites me up to her place, where we chat for a while. Or at least I chat for a while. N seems very reserved, and I feel like I am working hard to hold up the conversation. Later, I feel annoyed, and I write to her, why did you invite me up when you then seemed not to want to talk with me?
On another occasion we experience another miscommunication, which leads me to believe N has hung up the phone on me. This is really annoying. How can I work with this person as part of our group? Now I wonder if I can. But to her credit, N takes my flaming well, she even calls me up to make amends. She happens to catch me when I have imbibed a few hits of pot, so I happen to be very loose and free in what I say to her. Very uncensored. It is during this conversation that I make noises about wanting to come on to her at a sex party. "Well, I don't know about that," says N. I hadn't meant to say it, but it tumbled out. Again I have the feeling N is annoyed with me.
Where would I have wanted to go with this woman? I speak of it as a past tense thing because N seems clear that I am not for her. Besides, I live in the northern part of the state now, she is in L.A. One moment I ask her, am I too butch for you. No you're not, I hear back, but that's not the issue.
I am too afraid to ask what the issue is. So I assume it is her not being attracted to me. You could probably toss in, as an undercurrent at least, the fact I am bi and live with a man. N is strictly gay, and I knew that from the outset. But I also sensed that she had a vastly more tolerant view of bi women than some of her compatriots. Still though, N may be a woman who likes being tucked in at night, after all. Every night, preferably. I don't know. I know she is looking now herself.
We're all looking, all the time.
TO BE CONTINUED
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Well, but I feel we have an interesting friendship now, nonetheless, and for all I know, we really were not meant to go there. So, in ways the experience still feels rich enough even though it is not quite what (I think) I may want...welcome to the site, by the way-
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