Kumbaya & Cowabunga!

There’s a crazed muse in me.  She has erratic but invigorating energy that lifts when it flows.  She’s responsible for most of the 2girlsR> posts, but my day reality has been so heavy that she can’t get in and lift the muck or find room to dance. That’s why I haven’t been writing; it’s not fair to drag you through it.  Also, there are no lesbians in Baton Rouge.  

I’m in Austin for a much needed R&R and PRIDE.  Things, they are a changin’.  In the mile long parade, the majority of floats and participants come from local churches. The not-haters are carrying signs. 

“We welcome you.”  

“God has a rainbow covenant.” 

Ahhhhhhh, Christians are embracing Christ’s spirit, and the proportion of haters:lovers is upsetting the status quo.  All of this kumbaya is wonderful and great but I need to find a lovely in my size and temperament.  

So, I look toward the end of the parade to be sure I can beat these 1,000+ partiers into Oil Can Harry’s. I go to order a tall and refreshing beverage, and it’s already packed. Temperatures are high and bodies are reeking.  I push and press toward the back patio where my wingman is making friends. She points to a pack of youngin's.

“I asked that girl if I could buy her a drink.”

“What happened?”

“I turned around and she took off with her beer, and mine.”

“Crap!”

Next to them is a lovely in a blue dress.  She looks like some(gay)one I used to admire from afar.  With the doubIe-whammy of familiarity and interest, I can’t help but to stare.  But, in a place like this on a night like this, staring at someone screams, “Horny stalker.” 

I’m too shy for this nonsense. I grab Wingman and we head to the dance floor.  After a beat and a bounce, I know I’ve made a mistake. I need to go back and utter non-sequitors. I jump off the stage and bump into a straight girl who wants to mock grind, I bob and weave to race down the half stairs.

Blue is gone.  Her friends are gone. There’s no trace that they were ever there, and it’s only been the length of half a song.

“Is there a chance she was treading water in this sea for the past hour because she was waiting for me?”

“Crap!”

“She’s just what I want; she’s just what I need.”

After ~2 years without someone significant, I do need someone.  Plus, I’m getting old. If I’m ever going to be intimate with someone before I get wrinkled, it needs to happen soon.  I need for the last special someone to have a “when you were still attractive” memory before we get old and grey and too broken to get it up—our ‘love energy’ that is.

The woman in blue haunted me through the night. By the bewitching hour, I gave up and walked back to the hotel alone, crossing the bridge along Congress in the night sky’s light.  

“Alone.” 

I’d already dreamed of Blue a few times when Wingman rolled into the other bed.  This morning, I’m wondering if Blue will be at the breakfast buffet, reaching for her custom egg white veggie omelet.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” I could say. Sure—I can find the words, now.

I imagine us exchanging digits in a hurried craze because we only have an hour to seal our love and eat our complimentary meals before the coffee kicks in and carries us to our disparate realities. I would reach for the sugar, or the salsa, before I remember that I hate long distance relationships.  But, I would promise to try…for the sake of love.

Hell.  There’s too much going on in my life to insert someone now.  With all I’ve been through, the tsunami has merely reached its crest, and it will fall before 60 more days if we don’t sell this house.  For the sake of love, I couldn’t involve someone in that muck.

“I can be strong as long as someone doesn’t tell me it’s okay to be weak,” I tell Wingman during breakfast. 

This sentiment brings a tear to both of our eyes because we’ve been friends since we were teens. I know it hurts to think of all that I’ve been through and there’s nothing she can do; plus, we’re both really hung over and emotions are way too convenient after 12 straight hours of drinking and then a night of dream dancing with a girl in blue suede shoes.

I need to paddle toward the tsunami and hope that I can shoot through the tube. I’ll be a better lover when my feet hit the shore. 

“Peace out, the surf's up!"