dance with me
2003-09-28

�The piercings up here, on the nipples, they hurt like hell.�

�Can I see them?�

�I�ll show you mine if you show me yours.�


BlueEyes was the first American male I became friends with. He is attractive, charming and intelligent, and is witty to the point of sarcasm. At some point of the friendship, though, it became clear that there were strong attractive forces between us.

We never called any of our frequent outings �dates�. We watched movies and plays. We ate and ogled at girls (he was convinced I was bisexual). We went to raves and recitals. We danced and did martial arts. We flirted and teased, and we never went beyond this fa�ade of friendship.

To admit that we liked each other more than friends do would ruin this safe, elaborate dance of flirtation; it would make it dangerous, volatile. We both had partners we love in far away places, and we comforted our lonely selves with each other.

An unexpected kiss delivered in a dim staircase altered completely our choreographed civility.
It was fleeting. It was unplanned. It came and went in a whisper.

For a time we kept away from each other. We said hi and smiled, but we never talked about music or girls or architecture anymore. It was awkward and hot and lonely. We continued our lives separately, and we became like strangers.

Last night, though, we almost managed to capture that freewheeling, laughing, flirtatious spirit that was the muse of the early stages of our friendship. We went to an indie theater; we wanted to see The Animation Show.

Maybe it was the morbid, twisted humor we shared, both of us laughing as the cartoon boy is beaten over and over by a possessed balloon. Maybe it was the easy conversation, no longer laden with unresolved tension. Maybe it was the sugar in the donuts we bought by the dozens.

Whatever it is, I am thankful for it.