So I danced again with Max last night.This really is like being back in high school. He likes me, he likes me not, he likes me, he likes me not. And nothing ever comes of it. I suppose it keeps me distracted, which could be considered a good thing. I guess the really big problem is that I have tendency to ascribe meaning, or more accurately greater meaning, to small occurences. I'm constantly giving my friends the advice "Don't think about it so much." Of course, as my father always said, "Advice, the wise man doesn't need it, and the fool doesn't listen." (I was always the unofficial counselor at school. I would listen to people's problems for hours. I would give them advice, which they wouldn't follow. This, of course, landed them back on my doorstep whining to me that they should have lsitened. I would then give them more advice that they would ignore. After a while I made a proclamation, if anyone asked me for advice I was going to tell him or her, no matter what the problem was, the same thing "Kill him." I actually did this for a while and people did learn to stop asking me for advice...No one was killed.)
So I'm getting really vague here, aren't I?
So the basic premise here is that I'm reading to much into Max's behavior, but then since I spent most of grad school examining texts for "symbolic content" it is not surprising that it would spill over into other venues. (I think my favorite coment about symbolic content from grad school came from a ph.d. student while the class was discussing Jane Austen's Emma. She asked the class, "What do you think about the subversive lesbian content?" She was greeted with silence and blank stares. )Max is just flirty because that is what he is, and it has nothing to do with me. And this really depresses me, not so much because I thought we would have a big romance (he seems like more of autumnal fling to me) but it made me feel better to know that someone like him would be attracted to me. (One of my friends insists that he is attracted to me, but considering Max's age etc etc, he is like a dog in a hydrant factory. In other words, put two breast implants on a stick and he would be attracted to it.Of course the stick would instantly get a modeling career, which it would parlay into some movie appearances. After two or three years, the stick would go into rehab, retire, get married, get divorced, make a come back and finally voice its try goal "to direct." Meanwhile I'll still be here teaching the masses, getting grey hair, and talking to my cat.)
Bad Bunni posted at 11/13/2002 12:50:00 PM
Ok screw chronology. Today I ended up dancing with Max. My usual latin teacher Drew had to cancel and so the studio wanted to "give me Max." ("Oh really you shouldn't have. After all, I didn't get you anything.") So I'm pissed about the whole Drew situation. I mean, we are competing this weekend and we aren't ready and so he really shouldn't be missing classes. Anyway, I got to dance with Max so it wasn't all bad.
First off I would like to say, Oh my god I had no idea how tall this boy was. I mean, my one partner is about five eleven and I don't really notice the difference, but Max must be a monster because I was really aware of craning my neck to look at him. I used to never be attracted to really big guys. I used to find it threatening. However, I have since dated quite a few really short guys, and I'm sorry, but they do have serious issues. So now I'm finding myself drawn to big guys. The Beast is about six feet tall. (And just a side note about that:every time I see him I have the same two thoughts "Oh my god I forgot he was that big," and, "Oh my god I forgot he was that cute.") Max has to be even taller than the Beast. I asked him today how tall he was an he dodged the question. Considering my own height I felt bad about asking, and even worse after he dodged. While we were dancing I made some comment about how it must be nice to reach the top shelf in the store. He replied that he hated his height. He explained that with dancing the bigger you are the more vigilante you have to be about control, whereas smaller dancers have an easier time (not as much weight etc). We are quite a pair a little tiny girl and great big guy.
The thing is I was talking to a friend of mine last night about Max. I was telling him how I had a physical desire for him, but not a sexual desire. Meaning that I always want him to touch me, to hug me, but that I didn't want him to kiss me and certainly nothing more sexual. I really believed that. He is one of those guys who looks like he would be great to snuggle with, not to thin, not to buff, a nice medium. But today, I couldn't deny that I wanted to grab that boy. Forget the platonic ideal, I admit it. I want him. Why the hell not.
And today, for the first time, I absolutely had no doubt that he has desire for me as well. I mean, close to the beginning of the lesson, I can't remember why, but he told me I was the cutest thing to happen to him in a long time. I'm not sure what the hell that means. Apparently I am just cuteness waiting to happen.
But I have to admit lately I've been feeling much happier. I don't know what it is, but I catch myself becoming the girl I used to be, smiling on the street and enjoying the breeze in the evening. He must be picking up on part of that. Later he told me about this dance club where apparently there are some fantastic dancers. He said he could tell me when these dancers were getting together. I told him he should do that. He was surprised, he was like "really?" I said yes, I don't get to see dancing anywhere, but here. So hopefully he and I will see some dancing sometime soon.
He is also going ot be at the competition this weekend. He says he will give me moral support. How about a back rub. Or better yet, honey could you help me wash my shoulders. I mean, you don't want me to be tense for my competition, now do you?
Bad Bunni posted at 11/11/2002 11:48:00 PM