Othello

I was brimming with excitement all of Thursday. I couldn’t stop thinking about my date with Seabiscuit. I was very excited about his joining me at the theater plus the night adventures that would follow.

I hurried home after work, took a quick shower, and headed out. It had been a warm day, and I was doubtful that I needed my jacket; however, then I remembered being cold at a previous performance in the evening. Even though I had checked the weather and saw Orinda was only predicted to be in the low 60s in the evening, I knew that up in the hills, where the theater is actually located, it can get much colder. I felt foolish carrying such a large jacket on BART and felt too warm to need it, but better safe than sorry.

It was good I did. By the time I arrived at the theater, it was significantly cooler. I was happy without a jacket but realized that once the sun finished setting, I would need to put it on. I waited for Seabiscuit to arrive, and was excited to see him clean-shaven–as I had ordered as his Mistress. How good that he should obey so well! And he finally looked like one of his own photographs.

I told him previously that he appeared to be a servant of the Many-Faced God because his face never seemed to match from one photograph to another. The angles were off or something seemed so strange about it. He didn’t look like his photographs. I knew it was him, but how strange and different they all seemed.

There was a crowd, and I could tell he felt a bit shy. We hugged and kissed each other’s cheeks, then held hands as we walked up the hill from Will Call to the theater.

He bought dinner for us at the cafĂ©, and we continued holding hands. The line was long, and we really only had 10 minutes to eat before needing to be seated. He was impressed by my tickets and how close we were to the stage. The temperature had dropped significantly, so I put on my jacket when we were seated but he was astounded that I didn’t close it until after intermission. I held his hand in his lap during the first half.

During intermission, he rented a blanket while I used the restroom and got my free bag of Peet’s coffee for renewing my subscription for the theater. We shared the blanket, and for the second half, he held my hand on my lap.

The performance was amazing, as all the shows I have seen there have been. CalShakes has done very well at selecting and directing plays that resonate with race issues going on currently, and this play was exceptionally well done in that regard. Seabiscuit enjoyed it greatly, and I told him he should return with me for all of next season. He said he would love to. It was his first time going to the theater in a very long time, and he said the final scenes with the bed on stage would linger in his memory for a long time.

Wading in the Sea

After that event, I tried to recover from the pains of jealousy that still tugged at my heartstrings, the vibrations of which felt like a guitar whose strings have been plucked with the notes seeming to last an eternity.

I am not a dating app girl. I admit I have never tried one, but they all strike me as so unappealing. I want to get to know people as who they are, not a selfie. So much of my attraction to people comes from how intelligent they are. If the impression a person gives me is that they are an idiot, I would never date that person.

It’s like I have a sign you see at amusement parks: intelligence must be this tall to ride.

As I wondered if I needed to change and if I need to take more risks (my cautiousness is almost a 100% on the IPIP-NEO personality test), I began trolling (or is it more trawling?) through the dregs of what Craigslist has to offer. I found mostly dick pics (definitely not interested in meeting the face of someone who puts that in their post), and then one pictureless post that stood out among the sea of dicks, like the sight of some beautiful tropical island within one’s reach who would otherwise drown in all that effluvia.

We exchanged a few emails. It was interesting and exciting. His name was David, and we asked questions back and forth about music relationships, bucket lists. Our exchange lasted about a week before he fell off the radar. “Fires at work” he sent a few days after my last email. I responded with a short note, he did the same with more news about needing to travel for some time, and I couldn’t tell if it was a polite way of ending the exchange. It was unfortunate.

But his posting inspired me to write my own. I held my breath and posted an ad on Craiglist.

One in a million

I recently felt something I haven’t felt in a long time, and it hurt: jealousy.

As I tried to ignore it, the more aware of it I became and the sharper the pain I felt. The details of it came into focus, and as much as I tried to turn away, it only made the green-eyed monster sink its claws in deeper. The pain, still throbbing, nested there deeply.

I am normally confident and rarely fall victim to insecurity–but when I do, it’s when the deepest heartfelt feelings are involved. I love and yet so often it has been unrequited: feeling unwanted, unloved, unworthy. How that monster, once unleashed, can wreck havoc on one’s emotional stability–a green dragon that burns with rage, wanting to burn everything down. Burn, burn, burn.

To see what’s wanted and know that it is not me, to realize the depth of my feelings and to realize it may mean nothing, as easily forgotten as words said in the wind–carried away, off to shore and over the sea, drowning in the roar of the ocean, the waves of everyday happenings in this world.

I wonder if I have been too cautious and good. I am open-minded but averse to taking risks. I will open my heart and share my feelings; I will pursue men, defying any normal convention of men should do the hunting and follow in pursuit.

Maybe I have played things too straight. Will someone love me as I am, or must I change?