The Steffiverse

Thursday night was good. So good that it's taken me a whole day and a half to get up the enegy and time to actually log this entry.

See I went on a date Thursday night, with Sten-- the girl I danced with at the party last week who then started emailing me on MySpace. But it was during that date that I realized something had changed. See things were great. The conversation was stimulating enough. She's an interesting person, so it's not like I was bored.

But something was lacking. She didn't understand me on the same level a certain someone else did. She didn't have the same energy a certain someone else did.

She wasn't Shadra.

And it was at that moment that I figured out exactly WHY I now have standards. See me and Shadra connect intellectually on a level above anyone I've ever connected with before. We get it. We get each other. And Thursday night's date brought with it the sad revelation that I'm just gonna have to get used to dating below that level again. Because it's not that there's anything wrong with the rest of the world. They just aren't a step ABOVE.

So that made me kinda despondent for a while. But whatever. I'd resolved to move on from that. I was gonna do it.

Then Shadra calls at 11:30. We end up going to Rennie's for "a beer." That turns into like 6 for her, which is equivalent to 2 for me. We talk. It's great. I love hanging out with her. But then she tells me that when I told her I was going on a date tonight, she felt kinda jealous... because she really doesnt consider herself straight at this point... because she still goes back and forth a lot.... because she still really likes me.

You know how everyone makes lists at some point during their teenage ages about what qualities they'd like in a future partner? Apparently I meet all the criteria on her list, or so she says. And surprisingly, she's right up there on mine too.

And suddenly we're both pretty buzzed, inhibitions are gone, we're moving towards that point. That point where I thought we'd never be at again. Suddenly I'm telling her that I'm over her but not over her. And she knows. She understands because she gets it. I also tell her that in spite of the way I feel, what I really want, above everything else if for her to feel comfortable around me, and so if we have to just be friends for that to happen, so be it.

She tells me that she's always comfortable around me.

And then we're leaving Rennie's together, just like we've done on so many ocassions before. Arms hooked around each other's waists. She's not sober enough to drive, so I offer to let her come back with me, adding that she can sleep on the couch if she doesn't want to get in bed with me. She says she can either do that or walk home.

We pass under a street light outside Roma. She says she'll come home with me. We stop. Facing each other. And then I've turned her chin up to face me and I'm kissing her. It feels just like it did the night I brought her coffee.

We hug, and strangely my own face is wet. Apparently there are tears. Apparently I'm crying. Thanks to my glasses and hood, she doesn't notice. I barely notice. Only enough to wonder why I'm crying. Why?

We get home, we're lying in the dark, arms around each other. And I'm aware that I'm crying again. This time she does notice, and she asks me what's wrong.

I don't know. I have no idea. And that's what I tell her.

Only later, the next day, do I figure out why I got so emotional. Only later do I realize that as I kissed her that night, my heart had already latched on to something my head hadn't quite caught on to yet. See, after we ended it last time, I was fine with it. But there were times where I wished with every fiber of me that I'd known that that last kiss in the parking lot had been the last kiss, that that last night together had been the last night.

Because you never know. When you break up with someone, you don't get a warning beforehand. And afterwards I kept wishing I'd have gotten a chance to do it all one last time. Just to experience it again and lock away the memory-- every last detail of it all.

When she kissed me Thursday night, I guess I realized deep down that I'd gotten my chance. The tears were a reaction to the sanctity of the moment and the realization that I had to hold on to it. Because with the nature of things between us that way they were right now, I already had my warning. This might never happen again. I'd gotten my chance to relive it and say goodbye, and I had to take it. Cherish it. Cherish her. Just being with her. That way. For one more night.

Because she got It. She always gets It. Always.