two levels of one thing hit me tonight.
i was researching on lesbian erotica literature and i stumbled upon quite a few. there's this one story i read which had this part:
As we lay spent in each other's arms, my mind wandered to cosmic places, and a thought occurred to me, which I felt oddly compelled to communicate.
"Joie?," I whispered.
"You know how sometimes you meet someone, and it just feels like you've known them forever?," I asked sweetly.
Joie hesitated before answering with a tentative "yes?"
"Well," I said, "that ain't us."
Joie started laughing. I laughed, too.
"Yeah, baby, but we fuck like we've known each other forever," Joie defended.
We were both quiet.
not the greatest piece of literature around but still, it was honest. but the ending was hopeful:
"Well, that's a start," I said, grinning in the darkness. "It'll give us something to do, while we get to know each other." Joie snuggled against me. The stereo was playing Ann Peebles "I Can't Stand the Rain". We drifted off to sleep.
but i didn't feel any hope, really. well, that's just me. or maybe the literariness of the piece didn't satisfy me at all. maybe.
but one thing hit me. i just realized that yeah, it is true for us. that ain't us. that ain't us. with what's happening all around us lately, i could see the comparisons and the compartments and all other common things. and there's nothing much to offer, really, than what's obvious. truly, indeed, that ain't us. definitely not.
and seeing the former with me earlier with someone else, it also hit me, that ain't us, too. and it could never, ever be. because it is something else that works for her, but not for me. and it could never, ever work for me. never. but that is alright, because my desires lie somewhere else, not her universe indeed.
how strange is this world.