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Jett Superior laid this on you on || November 20, 2006 || 12:36 am

flip sides of the same coin

Last night:

I left the restaurant teeny and grubby and full of good food and interesting people of all dimensions. In other words, just like I found it. Just like I found it last time and will find it one more again.

Four of us were ringing the table, and there was laughter and shenanigans of the low-key variety. It was noticeable nonetheless, I suppose: I kept looking up, around the room –as is my habit– and a guy two tables over managed to meet my gaze every single time.

He was probably five years my junior, two inches shorter with close-cropped hair and sporting sideburns. Nice build, attractive. There are italics on that attractive because while he was decent-looking, there was that something that struck like flint and stone when our eyes hit across one another’s: He had the kind of green eyes that are soft in hue but loud in application.

We finished our meal, hugged out our goodbyes, all smiles and goodpal warmth, and took leave of one another. The night was just cold enough, just late enough to crisp up all the details and lend a sharpness to things that made me feel dialed up about two notches higher than usual.

I got into my car and dialed, “Yeah, we’re just leaving. I’m on my way.” Then I started the engine, flicking on the heat and turning on an interior light. I used the precious little of it to eyeball my out-thrust jaw in the rearview and carefully applied a shiny black cherry to my lips. As I looked away from my mirror and snapped the lipstick case shut, I looked through the windshield. Sandwiched between it and the plate glass window of the restaurant was the night air drenched in mercury-vapor glow. On the other side of the window glass, Green Eyes was fixed on me and for the span of an impossibly eternal three seconds, we locked looks and it was treacherous in there, in that moment.

There was no wanton lust. There was a snap-hiss of an altogether different kind, one that happens to me on occasion. I used to know what to do with it, which was To Act. Increasingly these days, it makes me unsettled somewhere in the depths that are nobody’s real business. I looked at him levelly, broke cleanly, threw my lipstick in my purse and backed the car out.

“Bye, nice boy. There was something about this encounter.”

::: :: ::: :: ::: :: :::

This afternoon:

We have a dollar store here in town that is just so *pleasant* to go to. It’s not the typical dollar store: It’s clean, well-lit, spacious, good upkeep. Sometimes you can find some really great crap there. Bonus, for a dollar per item! We went there today, meandering up one aisle and down the next. Maxim browses slow on days like today, and I was all keyed up. The music…I don’t know who programs it for them, but they do a fabulous job of it. It was spot-on today and I couldn’t help but move about to it (who can stand still in the face of Stevie Wonder’s magic, I ask you??).

At one point, I was walking directly behind Maxim and, hooking a finger into a belt loop, swung around to his front side. Looking up at him, I said with a smile, “I wish you were the kind of boy who broke out into dancing in the middle of the dollar store aisle, because I am the kind of girl who does that sort of thing and it’s fun with a partner.”

My brain checked me hard: ‘You ass.

“It’s okay, though. I like you the way you are; I’ll dance enough for both of us.”

As we are wont to do, an aisle or two got between us and I began to people-watch and browse simultaneously. There were a broad mix of specimens available, and that was nice. A couple of times I noticed a man, maybe five years my junior (again?), who was mentally retarded. He was high-functioning, obviously, and I surreptitiously watched him with a measure of pleasure, as he was Taking Great Delight In This Day. Apropos for the Sabbath, no?

He was drinking everything up, enjoying everything with a purity and a freshness that made him very incredible to behold. I made my way around the store and every few minutes would find me and this man five or so feet away from one another. He began to look at me curiously, a curiosity mixed with an engaging and wonderfully nice smile, and once I smiled back broadly, which only widened his own smile exponentially.

I hate the human race, but boy do I love to connect with it.

As Maxim and Mathias were checking out, I was looking at some cheap jars; I tend to buy these up and stuff them with baked goods during the holidays. It’s about time for me to pick some up. The man once again showed up, touching merchandise, somehow gleefully involving himself with it. He looked up, there I was, one more surprise, and I swear there was an expectant look on his face.

I did what I am sometimes led inexplicably to do: I listened to a pull inside of me and jumped on the moment. I smiled a no-teeth smile to match his, put the jar I was examing back on the shelf, closed the small range of distance between us and hugged him. He was ready and hugged back. When I pulled away, I said, “Okay!” and he said, “Thank you.” and that was that. We were both warmed. I met my family at the doors of the place.

“Bye, nice boy. There was something about this encounter.”

Nobody worked it out »

Don´t be shy. Lay it on me.

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