Saturday, Apr. 19, 2003 / 6:47 p.m.

~A Moment of Hopefulness~

So I'm noticing things about myself. Nothing new there, I'm nothing if not famous for my self absorption and ability to navel gaze with incessant fervor (god, I'm horrible!), but I'm not only still attracted to the same type of man, but that type of man has remained the same age. As in, when I was a teenager I was attracted to boys in their late teens, early twenties, and now that I'm just scratching the surface of the dreaded 'MIDDLE AGE', I'm, well, um, still attracted to that guy in his early twenties. Not the same one, but the same type, and that's how old he is.

Dean, on the bus last weekend, in D.C., his sleeping blanket spilling over onto me on the trip back, his buttons everywhere, his lack of organization and memory, his Sandy-like spaceyness (early Alzheimer's?), etc., well, it's all indicative of the fact that he is, after all, 53 years old. And let's face it, who asks me out these days? One year ago we were in D.C. for another protest, this one mainly pro-Palestinian, but there were Skipper (60!) and Sandy (46), both asking me out within minutes once we were safely back to our bus and on our way back home.

I dated both, briefly, and I'd like to think they might both be my friends, even in spite of Skipper's recent drunken outburst - I am good at forgetting to hold grudges. But who am I attracted to???? Which one do I want? Easy, I always seem to go for the 23 year olds. Which makes me think a few different things, like.... what the fuck is my problem?! Kid is young enough to be my son, right? (quick math..... sure, from back when I was first sexually active and used no form of birth control, yeah, sure, he could be my son!). And, another thing, is this some mid life crisis thing? Am I trying to recapture my rapidly receding 'lost youth'? Or was it ever lost? Am I still in it?

And the ever popular, a guy that young would NEVER be attracted to me. Sure, sure, the last guy I had sex with was 26 at the time, and I 39, but he was shocked when he learned my age, he couldn't believe it, and ultimately it played into his decision to never see me again, we can count on that.

I don't know that I'm the only one who meets someone new, someone interesting and attractive, and takes it as far as it can go, mentally. I saw him as really young earlier today, when I first noticed him smiling. Just some young guy. And someone makes the comment she thought he was a couple with another young person, a young girl, and he says, "No, she's only 16, and I'm 23! And she's my sister", as if the former were the more important reason they are not a 'couple'. Cute.

23, hmmm, 23, I thought to myself, he is awfully young, and as if he'd just announced his recent engagement I saw him as off limits. As if he'd just lit up a cigarette and taken a deep drag, I saw him as off limits, suddenly just a young guy with whom I'd be marching. But I ended up walking next to him, and it was a slow march, as marches are, and we talked. And talked. And laughed. And talked. And someone else I know marched with us and we talked to him, and talked, etc., and etc. And I began to be REALLY immensely attracted to this 23 year old. 23, I kept reminding myself. As if this could be the deterrent I'd need not to feel anything for this person. Not to be attracted, like it's something I can control, shut off at will.

I. Will. Not. Be. Attracted. 23, he's only 23.

But he's lived, my god he's lived. This state, that state, and then he was here, and then there, and lived here and there, and got involved in this and that, and he just bought a house, and he's staying here for a while, and I heard a good bit of his life story, and it just did something to me, it drew me to him, and he asked about me, which is rare, he wanted to know about my life, who I am, where I'm from, what I do, how I feel, and he listened.

Too much.

So we sat together at the film after the march, and his sister got up to leave and it was just the two of us, and I sat there imagining touching him, smelling his breath, wondering what he looks like naked, wondering just how long his hair is under that hat he wore, like a Rasta hat, like he must have dreads, white boy dreads because the hat was so filled with his hair......

I imagined sitting there holding his hand, or him reaching over to touch my leg, and I stopped myself, was almost angry at thinking such things. He's too young, he has no interest in me, he's just a nice young man, that's all, he's an interesting young man and maybe he has a nice young girlfriend and they have nice young interesting sex together, as it should be. I'm the depressed misanthropic hermit, the one who spends her free time online, or watching television, and he doesn't even have a TV, see, it would never work even if he is into me.

Alas, he mentioned a meditation thing at his house, and invited me, said he'd give me his number (oooooh, promising - see? I need to stop that!), and once the film was over and we were gathering signs and looking for a ride he mentioned it again, and I, of course, had no writing utensil, so he gave me his email address, which is not hard to forget (in fact I spent time memorizing it immediately after), and I found out he's fucking Sicilian, which is icing on this stupid tempting cake, because how cool is that? Jesus, my mother was like some Italian groupie, and the Sicilians, they are the coolest, they are Old World, they are family and Mafia and beauty and food and sensuality, and oh my god.

We got a ride back to the starting point of the march, and he walked me back almost all the way to my car, and I really liked talking to him, but the whole time I was thinking that I want to be with this guy, I want to know him, I want to be close to him, intimate with him, I want more and that feeling is consuming. It always has been, every crush, every attraction, I don't handle it well at all. And then I push and pull and it never works out. This is why I stay away from social interactions, I'm a fucking freak.

I'll send him a note, maybe I can go to his mediation group, and we'll see. And I haven't told him my age, and I won't. There's no need for that. But he doesn't seem like the kind of person to judge based on age, or skin color, or anything else really.

Dammit, I have a crush now.

The march was great, the people were great, I saw quite a few from last weekend, from the D.C. demonstration, from the one here, two weeks ago, and one of our local organizers, and some new folks. We had a speaker before the film, an Army Veteran, and she was very cool, spoke very passionately and personally about her disillusionment with the American Government and Military Machine, about being a mother and a concerned parent, her path to antiwar protesting. We gave her a standing ovation.

And the film, of course, criticize Michael Moore's tactics all you want, but he's informing people, and information, knowledge, is always good. We need Michael Moore, there's no doubt.

Oh, I almost didn't go today. I was busy talking myself out of it, wanting to sleep later, wanting to do chores instead, thinking I was running too late, thinking I'd not find a place to park, thinking it was futile, the crowd would be too small, just the usual self sabotage, but I went, I parked, I waited for the march to start, with everyone else, I wasn't late, I was right on time, and I met someone new and beautiful, filled with positive energy and a desire to be open and learn. And if I were alone with him for any length of time I think I'd jump him and explore his entire body with my tongue.

Or, you know, something similar. (and his name, oh my god, I love his name....)

And wait, it's not because of some conventional physical beauty he possesses, it's more that his energy and his intelligence and his openness are a huge turn on, plus that smile and those eyes, and I want to see what his hair looks like. Oh, he has nice toes too, he was wearing sandals and I saw. Nice hands and feet are a great turn on too.

Okay, I'll stop now. It's just a momentary thing, that's all. My horoscopes all said that today was going to be weird, that someone would tell me something about someone else and I'd freak out, or people would conspire against me, and frankly it was a bit weird just thinking I was doomed. Another reason I didn't want to leave my apartment at all. But I decided to take charge of my own destiny and prove all the prognosticators wrong. I think I did just that. And now???

I intend to be a slug for the rest of the evening. I hear the sofa calling me, the digital cable begging to be turned on, cats waiting for my body to form a lap. But anything is possible. I believe that. And as I fluctuate in this life, as I vacillate between despair and hopefulness, this is a moment of the latter. To think that I could love someone again, or even make love, is a very good feeling. I do hope I see him again.

Cost of the War in Iraq
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