Beware of when your dream walks over

Well, I guess you could say I asked for it, if you were the cruel type.

The class following the good interactions with the gorgeous and varied ladies, I walked in and joked to the class about the independent reading list( it seemed few of the class were interested in making their choice yet.) I jokingly suggested I would read the most laborious of the offered books, 'Bless Me Ultima' by Rudolpho Anaya.

I guess that was it...an early class joke that got her attention locked. But bide, I will explain.

Class began shortly, and it was discussed that next week we would (while still working on a paper to be turned in) we would go see Juno Diaz in San Francisco's hoighty Herbst Theatre for a lecture/interview with a balcony seat. After a short lecture, we were invited to get a partner or partners for analyzing and sharing our first paper outlines.

The girl closest to me was looking around for anyone but me to collaborate with. This is hardly new in my American experience, so I jokingly stand and hold out my arms, calling 'LFG!', thinking some guy would get the joke and come compare contrast.

And over walks supergirl. She said,
"I just have to see what you have written, you have a really interesting interpretation of the stories."

I nod, just as the girl who sits close to me suddenly changes her mind and decides she wants to group with us, to which I also have no objection.

"I really want to get a coffee first, you want a coffee?" I pronounced this desire genius, and off we went (the other girl demurred) and there I am, walking across campus with the most beautiful girl in the fucking world.

And I need to state this clearly...she is an ex model. From across the room, she looks like she might be pleasant. Up close, every imperfection only adds to her value. Every blemish shows her humanity despite the utter perfection of her wrists, her neck, her waist. She is a song on two legs. She demands poetry, nothing else will suffice. Last week, I remarked that the honors bar seemed to be set higher, and I hoped that was a harbinger of a different society. To be more accurate, I feel she is a sign of better society, point blank.

She launched the conversation about her paper, and asked about mine, and proved herelf again an honors student (there are people with the title but not the chops, people.) She drew close when she spoke to me, like a conspirator or a latino with a smaller sense of body bubbles.

We went back to class and analyzed our papers, our breaths smelling like coffee. The third wheel not only didn't have her paper done, not only didn't have anything to contribute, but basically used us to hide from the instructor.

My bliss and intellectual and aesthetic happiness was ended by everyone else in the class taking adventage of the instructor's offer to leave after they were done critiqing. I did not walk her to her car. I did not follow her like a love struck ape. I did not crush her into dust like I wanted to...like her choosing me from across the room seemed to invite.

I sighed like a sad bastard for three days. Have you done this, my future readers and emo friends? Has this been you? You should wish for such agonies my friends.

There is an argument that says I am making nothing out of a fellow student's intellectual curiosity and precociousness. There is an argument that like the girl who is suddenly sitting next to me but seems a bit on the dumb side, supergirl wants to leech ideas off me, or stimulate her mental energies (this could be like to like in brainstorm perspective-her only desire is to actualize.) I have been to high school too, friends, and I remember what those girls are like. This felt different; she was focused on the topic at hand, but she wanted to explain herself. She wanted someone to understand her personal injections into her paper outline. She wanted to hear a different perspective...and to be blunt, she wanted someone who could appreciate her intellect to read her words, which were so very personal, about racism from being biracial, someone who could understand getting it from both sides.

I think she was exploring, sharing and reaching out. At this point, she has come to me twice. If she does so at the Junot Diaz concert, I will be forced to assume she is sensing like to like, or sensing veteran wounds like those healing dogs the service trains, or she wants something beyond healthy student to student interaction.

I will not walk to her, though I will remain friendly. She will come to me or we will forget the entire matter. And if she does...I will have to learn more about her. I just might be receptive to hearing the rest of her story.

She alleged that her beauty was a double edged sword (I am certain that is bullshit they teach you at model academy but I am trying to remain open minded)that spoiled you utterly but left you open to manipulation at an age before you were ready to find life beyond materialism. I know there is more to this story. I am dying to hear it.

On the complete other hand, she wears a silver ring on her second left finger. She could be married, engaged or in a long term tryst. She could be lesbian or bisexual (silver rings were vogue for them in the 80s, who knows about now.) If she is interested in me, I care about those things for only a few seconds...but if she is sincere about her work and I am misreading her, well, I do her yet another misservice. I above all wish to do her no harm, despite her beauty it is evident some harming has occured.