Posted by: fireweaver | August 6, 2007

a song of how i have no game

many months ago (at least prior to new year’s antics), i stopped calling justin timberlake a guilty pleasure, and just flat-out admitted to liking the guy. ‘lovestoned‘ is now one of those songs that i’ll surf along through the radio channels seeking. and oh m’kittens, my hooker-dancin’, tall-shoes wearin’, savage groove lovin’ butt wants to be that chick JT is singing about (she’s freaky but i like it!). apparently, though, the soundtrack of my life is for a comedy of errors rather than the slick adult relationship-drama i’d love to pretend it is. which is to say, i’m going to have to be singing that song from the same angle JT is:

he’s got me love stoned
man I swear he’s bad and he knows
I think that he knows

i drove out to mr.nerdhottie’s casa yesterday afternoon, with the plan being to get around to watching that movie we didn’t get around to last time. ultimately, we weren’t any more successful at shutting up long enough to watch anything than we have been in the past (0 for 3!), but it was still a good time. i brought over my last bottle of frei bros cab and some little grapes, and we loafed on the couch in that same endless touch-punctuated conversation we’ve found ourselves in every time we meet up.

at some point, though, it turned into The Conversation. his perspective goes ‘i really enjoy your company’ (good), ‘i want to keep seeing you’ (better), ‘i don’t want to rush into things’ (ok, that makes some sense), ‘the immediate strong connection we had kind of scared me’ (oh shit), and ‘i’m not ready to be exclusive yet’ (auggh!  twist!  tiny! knife!). to paraphrase our friends nada surf, “there’s a feeling of rejection when someone says they prefer the company of others to your exclusive company.” he followed the last statement with an immediate, “not that i have anything else going on at all now,” but still, ouch. and apparently the thinness of that scrap of decorum, the one that prevented us from having a throw-down outside of the bethesda metro station on our last outing, had not gone unnoticed. he referenced a comment he’d made at the time regarding the nearby hyatt hotel and my brassy ‘you talk a good game but you’re not going to do anything about it’ sort of taunting reply. “i was kidding!” i protested, 75% truthful. “i can be really into you and not immediately throw my clothes on the floor!”

and there you have it my dears: i have no suavity, no dissembling mystery, absolutely no game with this guy. i can easily play the ice-princess with mr.grabby, effortlessly deflecting his unsubtle attempts to weasel into my heart. in this particular case, though, my low bullshit factor is proving to be a hindrance. i can hear Chris laughing at me for trying to be something i’m not, after all the bitching i’ve done about the fakery involved in the dating game. in reality, i think he & i are on the same page, all the feelings are mutual, and that the issue/hesitancy is simply due to the fact that i’m not heavily modulating like i usually do when i’m first getting to know someone, so that i’m coming off larger-than-life and a bit overwhelming. but still, i just can’t help the tiny flutter of terrified paranoia now that the cards are on the table.

the long quiet conversation over dinner about the sort of things people talk about when they’re planning on staying around for a while (family tragedies, personal baggage, hangups about exes) went a long way towards soothing my ruffled hide. upon returning to the house, the group-chat-time with the housemates in which my A-game of witticism & hilarity resurfaced helped out a lot too. after the others had gone off to bed, i managed to reclaim some of my chick-power (or else, just managed to re-delude myself into thinking i had any control over things) with his arms firmly wrapped around me on the couch. “keep holding me like that, and i’ll think you mean it,” i murmured into his ear.

of course, all that regained confidence evaporated when i tried to back out into the microscopic alleyway behind the house, and bashed into the old cement fenceposts opposite. he had to come down and direct the former star parallel-parker of b’more on getting out of there (oh, how low have i come!) for me to escape the driveway. as he leaned in the car window after another lingering minty-fresh-post-cigarette-flavored kiss, i said, “ah, now you know why i had to get stuck in your alleyway here, to get you to come give me a proper kiss goodnight.” “proper kiss?!” he protested, “what was all that back upstairs?”

“oh, that, that was just the making out like teenagers portion of the evening.” because i still have to act like i have smooth powers.

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Responses

  1. Play this game. Be aware that losing is not cut and dry. Honesty will bring back your snap. That snap is want dominates your personnality.
    It makes you larger then life. It drives people to submit. He should submit to you, then learn to bring it back upon you. If you willingly go even though you burn against the defiance, then you know you have found perfection. He is strong enough? Are you? What game are you willing to play? Fantasy can be a well written book, novels of reality are beloved for generations.

  2. Ahhh Chris. . .Your lyrical advice amuses me. . .Been a long time since we have talked. And Michelle–Ahhh girl I so feel you about this one. It seems that I have lost all my good game. Why oh why can I not find an intellegent man to verbally spar with that still thinks I am sexy and not intimidating? True, I have two restrictions but I think that a.) under 50 and b.) not married are actual valid guidelines. Am I crazy?


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