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                        “Have you ever truly been in love, true love?” Christie’s eyes were bright, intense, searching. Being aloof was out of the question. Her eyes seemed to peer directly into my soul which made it hard to hide.

“Well?” her lips pursed into a slight smile as she raised her left eyebrow.

Damn. She makes it so hard to resist.

She was sitting Indian style on the bench beside me. Her short dark hair was covered by her favorite NY Yankee’s ballcap, worn backward of course. Worn “Doc’s”, tan baggies, and a white “wife-beater” tank top. . . she used to jokingly call it her “dyke uniform”. She was so damn cute.

“. . .I’m waiting.”

I shrugged my shoulders and looked down to avoid those prying eyes. “I dunno.” I mumbled pulling my knee up to my chest and tucking my chin on top. “Once. Maybe. I guess. . .” As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it wouldn’t be enough of an answer for her.

“What do you mean? ‘Once. Maybe. I guess?’” her nose scrunched up as she studied me intently. “What kinda bullshit cop-out answer is that?” An impish smile spread across her face. She liked putting me on the spot.

I sighed and shook my head lightly. “I guess that all depends.”

“Depends on what?” she had that cynical look on her face like ‘What kinda bullshit are you going to try and pass off as an answer to evade my question?’.

“It depends on your definition of love.”

She sighed audibly. “Hmmm. I see.”

I continued before her eyes turned from amusement to indifference. “If it’s the traditional aspect/definition of love you’re speaking of. . . boy meets girl, or I should say, girl meets girl, girl falls for girl, girl loses girl, girl finds girl again and girl and girl finally live happily ever after. No. Can’t say I’ve ever been in that kinda love.”

She raised both eyebrows and smiled waiting for me to finish rambling.

I looked straight ahead, focusing on nothing in particular as I continued. “If you’re talking about a definition of love that encompasses a feeling. . . a feeling. . . hmmm.” I paused for a second. “It’s kinda like being on a boat that’s rocking. You can’t seem to get your balance at first. Unstable. You’re completely at the will of the environment around you, the power, force of an ocean, a person. But then your body adapts, that unstable feeling disappears and you’re in sync with the ocean/person. . . never wanting to set foot on land again. Naw. . . that’s bullshit. I know what I want to say, but right now, I’m not making any fucking sense. Gimmie a moment.” I shook my head trying to erase the embarrassing rambling that had just spilled out of my mouth. “Ok. This is it. It’s that feeling when you’re aware of every molecule in your body whenever she’s around. When your soul hums as she nears and for no physiological reason at all you can’t seem to fully catch your breath. And when she leaves you get that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. Worrying if you made a jack ass of yourself. Worrying if she thinks of you as just a “friend”. Worrying about, ‘What did she really mean when she said. . . “We’ll have to hang out sometime.”‘. That feeling of anticipation, excitement, like when you finally get to open your presents at Christmas. That feeling when the world melts away when she steps in the room. If that’s your definition of “true love”, then I guess my answer is. . . I’ve lost count.”

I turned my head toward her and rested my ear on my knee. “What about you?”

by paid_voyeur