Sunday, October 29, 2006

"When your heart is an empty room."

Last night I looked hot. Seriously. Dressed as a serving wench for a Halloween party and laced tight into a corset, my ample bosom rose into a swell of cleavage that was not only awe inspiring, but should have had me flat on my back, dress pushed up around my waist. In other words, I looked fuckable. Any reasonable person would have tossed me into the bedroom and locked the door. But since I was with Holly, reason was in short supply.

There comes a point in a young woman's life when she realizes that she can't make someone love them no matter how hard she tries. It's a heartbreaking realization and my heart is breaking a little bit. I wish I could somehow explain my very complicated feelings for Holly and why I haven't been able to let go when I should have cut my losses long ago. Some of you think that I'm crazy especially since this has been going on for a while now. Why her? Why so much self inflicted consternation?

I had a brief view of how things could have been in the days after Provincetown. The connection was there loud and clear. No barriers. No interference. I finally saw what I had fought for, like the satisfying view from the top of Mount Everest, and I was the happiest I had been in a very long time. That, my friends, is why I wasn't able to let go. That sole belief that if you cleared away all the bullshit things would be amazing.

I can't keep fighting anymore. I can't make her love me. I probably have a better shot of convincing New York of my awesomeness. One day she'll realize that she had a shot at a really good thing, but I will have moved on.

So attention single lesbians of New York! Here I am. I'm not asking for much. Just to be loved and occasionally dragged into the bedroom when I'm dressed as a serving wench. I'll even make you pancakes in the morning after you have your way with me.


Dorothy Snarker said...

Any woman who doesn’t love an ample-bosomed serving wench is, clearly, crazy. And not the good kind of crazy. Add in the promise of post-coital pancakes and you have the quintessential offer that can’t be refused. I say ahead with OWAS and away with crazy Holly.

Anonymous said...

Which New York are you trying to convince of your awesomeness? Do you mean Tiffany Patterson!? Wah ha ha!

Oh, and I love you.

nycrouge said...

I love you too, Mr. Bad Apologies.

Anonymous said...

Can you update your blog already? I'm kind of tired of looking at your boobs...