preening myself for failure

just when I think it's all a wash, that the man of the year is just a case of botched snake-charming and bad timing, the universe sweeps us into each other's strong magnetic pulls and we are stuck, saying words that sound mechanical, gazing at each other, trying to make sure the other is seen, heard, felt, understood.

sometimes, I wish I could always say what I really mean, that I could look him in the eye and just lay it on him.

Instead, I smile. and then I listen to what he has to say. and agree or counter. and the moment passes. And the feeling of dire, insane, wanton affection is thwarted by my timidity.

and the Man of the Year falls away like petals off a bouquet that is still in the vase two weeks later.

It never seemed so hard to charm them. or break through the icy crust of being polite.

also, for the first time in a while, I am unsure, shaky, wondering how I can stand next to him without out passing out from lack of breath.

it's been a long time since he winked at me. but he is a bundle of nervousness now, so I cannot be sure that the lack of winks means anything other than he is just terrified by my charms and discombobulated around me.

when asked about this situation, chuck, who is certainly a guy who has said plenty of funny things before, said, "There's nothing that turns a guy into a doofus like a woman."

and so, I'm back on the waiting list, figuring that nothing bad has happened yet, and it is just a matter of being patient.

"don't you know that patience is a virtue? that life is a waiting game?"