Out on the Town

And I've been telling people that I "got a man."

It comes out automatically, something that I've justified as "I really really love being single. This is my first time since 14 that I've really been by myself -- no fuckerships, no loverships, nada -- and I'm enjoying this experience to the fullest."

Granted, I have a tendency to take a new facet (I wouldn't call it a phase, for this comfort in myself is a much more permanent thing) to the extreme before I balance it into my everyday being. I am truly enjoying this alone-ness, and the idea of giving it up, the idea of "settling" turns me off so thoroughly that my face, at times, will involuntarily twitch into a grimace. (This has been the main driving force behind my libido's nosedive and my standing celibacy -- It's not going to be worth it, not yet. Besides, you can't get into a relationship with someone whose mindset screams otherwise; that's me right now. More on this later. I have a couple of good blog posts stirring around in my head from my recent socializations.)

I just wonder. Am I truly adjusting to this newfound sense of happiness in being alone (I used to have this fear that placed friends, family, and lovers in my presence at all times)? Or is it merely my Cancerian defense mechanism taking over -- No, I DON'T want to open the door for you. I'm happy by myself! THIS is the new me, now go away! -- as a response to recent heartbreaks? I'm far from being bitter, and there is no creeping panic, there is no pushing away. I just haven't felt.. the.. *click*.

I pondered about my decision this weekend when I went out to celebrate my girl's 30th birthday (a few things came into mind that night, being thrown back into an atmosphere I've long since forgotten... but again, I digress; more on that later.) Walking to the end of the block, I was hugging my elbows (a friend had left with my jacket in her bag, and NYC is still a touch above brisk). This attractive guy sauntered up to me and grinning, offered me an imaginary coat.

He was immaculately dressed. I can't tell you what the nitty gritty of his outfit was, because all I remember is a finely (cough-- FOINE-ly) fitted gray wool vest buttoned over the nicest, crispest, purplest tie I've ever seen in my life. I laughed, took his imaginary jacket, and thanked him. He and his friend, equally well dressed and attractive, nodded to me and continued walking.

After dealing with aggressive men the entire night (since when did rubbing an erection and pushing a bitch as hard as you can qualify as dancing?), getting 'shut down' by Diva ass dudes who got offended when I said, "touching people over and over again is not a proper hello," ("Forget you then, bitch." My, did I dent your ego?) and watching with widening eyes as one hand reached out to grab my friend's ponytail and his friend's hand, at the same time, reached out to grab her ass, his relaxed air was refreshing. Still holding his imaginary coat around me, I ducked and dodged a drunken man (who had just been rejected by two of my girls up ahead) that was trying to rub his chest against my tits; out of my mouth farted: "Damn sir. You're hungry." A couple of strangers near us laughed.

When Purple Tie heard that, he turned around and paused. At the end of the block where he was waiting, he smiled at me. "Can I get my jacket back? It's a little chilly." I looked him up and down, thought about it, then sighed in mock defeat. "Fine. But only because you asked nicely."

He was very pretty, you guys. Quiet voice, respectful. Short, but I'm tired of dating tall men that can pass as my high school professors (baby, don't take this to offense, you know I have nothing but love for you LOL). I'm 5 feet tall, and I look just over 12 years old. Maybe I need a short man in my life, and besides, he was still a whole head taller than me. That's minimum requirement.

"Do you have a man?" he asked, after some light joking between us. Before I could meet his gaze, "yes" came out of my mouth. I lifted my eyes, and it was too late.

"Damn," he said.

"Damn," I thought.

"I like your tie," I said.

"Thanks!" he said.

"You're welcome!" I beamed. "Where did you get it?"

Pause. "Now I can't tell you that."

Brow lift. Slow smile of recognition. "Ohh, you're one of THOSE boys. You have to keep your shit original." I laughed. "Okay, I respect that."

"No... it's not that. If I tell you, you'd buy the tie for your man."

"Huh?" I blinked, completely forgetting that I was supposed to have one. "Oh! No, I want it for myself. But it's okay, I can see why you'd say that."

He struggled briefly, then told me anyway. I nodded at him, not quite believing the name he gave me. But I'll leave it alone. That tie should be his, and his only. Even though I had the perfect pair of shoes to wear with it. I grinned.

"You tell your boyfriend he's a lucky man," he said. "You're very beautiful." I thanked him, and with a wistful look tossed over his shoulder, he walked away.

Damn, I thought again.

On the cab ride back uptown, I stared out the window. Could that have been the start of something beautiful? Could that have been a Missed Opportunity ("I want to learn... class," I'd told my girl SharpShooter the other night. "Fashionwise, manners, etiquette. Class." Looking at Purple Tie, I could have picked up a few pointers.. plus, purple and gray are my favorite colors together. Man, he could have dressed me and shit. Wait, where am I going with this..?) Though I wouldn't fight off a relationship with someone I knew in my heart was good, I no longer want to run the course with a person that hasn't shown me what he is capable of first. I don't need a man that badly, to give up myself in the process.

Was I ready to enter a relationship as the person I am now: in transition, a mild recession, observing the new world around me? Should I still go by the oft-repeated finger shake of "Don't date men you meet at clubs" (I said no to this twice, and both times it was laughably regrettable)?

I shook my head clear, focusing on the rain drops making patterns on the glass. Fuck it, I said. If it's meant to be, he'll cross my path again. (Right.) That was a belief I stuck by, because it proved true in my history. But everything around me is changing, and now I'm forced to ponder... As I get older, Karma's not going to hand me everything like she used to. I have to learn to keep my eye out for those small windows of opportunities.

Am I ready? Obviously not.

"I got a man" is a lot easier to explain than "I'm so happy being single; it's new to me, I'm not ready to give it up yet." It has less connotations of baggage, when it's not even that serious. "I got a man" gently turns away those who step to me respectfully, who don't deserve a "fuck off" or "maybe next time."

It's just that times like today, when its raining and I'm high-strung because of the strain of insomnia and life's pressures, theres a gnawing nugget inside me that insists all I want is a man to curl himself around me, and tuck my cold feet under his warm ones. Maybe I even want sex. Maybe I want pulled blinds and six pillows and bootleg eggs and orange juice. Times like this, I think, "Maybe I should have just said 'No... no, I don't.'"

Does that mean I'm secretly miserable on the inside, 'making excuses' for my 'lack of man'?

If I surely don't think so... why do you?