2.15.2009

Wallflower blossoming

Sam wants to change the world. First though, she needs to figure out how. Because changing the world is a big goal, and there are too many things that need to be fixed. She's young, aggressive, and slowly taking over my world.

I started the night leaning against the wall, clutching my beer. Watching the scene unfold.
"Are you ok? You look positively pissed off right now."
That was Leah. Playing the roll of hostess, making it her duty to see that everyone was having a good time..
"Uh, yeah. I'm fine." I assured her, "just don't know anyone here."
"Ok, well, come dance with us."
"I will eventually", I said, holding up my beer.

The truth is, I'm really a wallflower. I stand back, observe, let people come to me. And usually it works. Eventually someone will come and break through my imaginary wall, and drag me away from the safety zone I've created, and pull me out into the world again. That's were Sam comes in.

Eventually the DJ put on a good song, and I slowly made my way onto the dance floor. Suddenly Sam is standing in front of me, asking if I want to dance. I'm not sure at first. I was barely comfortable away from the wall, when human interaction, in the form of a cute girl who's practically falling on me, is invading my comfort bubble. Wasn't that what I came for though?

I say yes, and its awkward. Shes moving against me to her own rhythm, and I struggle to find her beat. All too soon, another question comes out of her mouth. "Do you want to make out?"
"No" I say, too quickly.
She's clearly drunk, and I'm only half way through my first beer. I don't want to take advantage of her. She's ok with it though, and says to let her know when I'm ready.

We keep dancing and attempt to talk over the music.
"So what's your story?" She asks, and I'm not entirely sure what she means.

I have too many to tell, and most of them would scare a lot of people away. I'm silent, thinking about what to share. That I'm unemployed and can barely afford rent and food, let alone a social life? My borderline personality disorder and how many times I've tried to kill myslef? The long list of drugs and addiction, and self mutilation? That I've lived in 3 states in the past 5 years and have started over each time?
"What do you want to know about?" I finally ask.
"Well, are you gay? Genderqueer? Whats your story?" she asks again.

The question makes sense now, and for a second I see myself as the rest of the world probably does. She can't quite figure me out, and doesn't want to assume wrong.

I don't think she realizes how compicated that question really is though. She has no idea how many times I've tried to figure it out for my self with out comming up with a real answer.

"Genderqueer, I guess. Kinda whatever." It's not really an answer, because I don't know the answer. How do you explain being female, with an androgenous apearance, with a non gender specific orientation when it comes to sexual attraction, while at the same time purposly blurring the line between genders? It can turn a seemingly simple question into a long intense conversation.

Flash forward three drinks, and I'm sitting in a chair in the corner. I'm balancing a drink in one hand, running my fingers through Sam's hair as she grinds against my thigh between kisses. I'm having one of those "Is this really my life?" moments. She had been persistant, waiting for me to finish each drink and asking if I was ready yet. Eventually I caved. I drank myself to her level, while she kept telling me how cute I was, and the feeling that I would be taking advantage faded.

After making out against the wall, in the middle of the dance floor, in line for the bathroom, against another wall, and finally the wobbly folding chair, I needed a cigarette. The one habit that's still around. I't seems insane that blow, popping pills and making myself bleed would be the easy ones to quit, especially considering my past as a Varsity Athlete in 3 sports. We found a bench on the fire escape, and tangled together for warmth while we talked.

That was when she said she want's to change the world. We talked about school, and how she finds it hot that I'm a geek. And we talked about fucking guys, and how sometimes its easier, till you wake up sober and just want to get the fuck out and pretend it never happened. She imagines a world where everyone is gay, and theres no guessing game in deciding if you can hit on a cute girl on the train. We agreed that people need to relax, and let everyone else be, and that being queer shouldn't be a big deal anymore. She stopped being the agressive drunk girl that I found intimidating, and I started to fall for her.

We decided at that point that It was time to go home, separately. I said I had to pee, then I would wait for a cab with her before walking to the bus, and we would get phone numbers while we waited.

I was standing in line, talking to a boy in a dress, when Leah showed up again. She said she had seen me with Sam, and that it was good to know. I smiled, and she stepped closer.
"It's good to know..." she said again, looking up at me, taunting almost.
And I kissed her. It was better with Leah, softer. I think I had wanted to kiss her all night, and she had been mixing strong drinks for me, but Sam had gotten to me first. "I'll see you on the dance floor" she said, walking away.

I decided to stay at that point, figuring I could see Sam to a Cab and go back to the party. Sam was gone though. And Leah was making out with someone else. I couldn't be upset though, since it was the same someone else it had been the whole time I was with Sam.

That was when the cops showed up. The party came to a halt as the under 21 crowd grabbed coats and ran for the back door. I hung back, waiting to see if the party was really over. I watched, hoping they would leave and the party would pick up again. It wasn't the case this time though.

I grabbed my coat, walked past the mess of cops out the door (lying on my way past when I was asked if they charged a cover) and looked for Sam again. She was really gone.

Once again I was the wallflower, walking home alone, wishing things had ended differently.