and then there’s paul. who called me recently and we had the most delicious twenty-minute conversation. he called to check up on me (while procrastinating about the writing he must attend to). it was kind of a courtesy call, almost. he can be so sweet and delicious. i need not to just fall into his deliciousness and lose my own. i can switch into spectator mode, sometimes, instead of always being an active participant. when i’m a spectator, i sit back. i watch and enjoy. i laugh and twinkle. but i do not put myself out there, i do not engage in verbal acrobatics, i do not give others something to enjoy. i don’t want to do lose myself in spectator-land. i want to be my own person, want to dive and leap, want to perform, want to be myself, want to give others things to think about and smile and laugh over. i love him so much. i do not want to give myself away in the loving of him or in the loving of any of the many extraordinary and amazing people in my universe that i love so much. i love myself, too, you know!

so the conversation with paul . . . what was it he said that i liked so much . . . he referenced the incident with the police officer. a police man pulled us over the other night as we were driving away from the bart station. came up to the window with his bright flashlight and informed paul that he couldn’t help but notice as we were pulling out into traffic that our car’s lights were not on. paul thanked the man for letting us know, explained that the streets were so brightly lit that he had not noticed. he handed over his license and registration and insurance information and waited while the officer took them back to his car and did whatever he does with things like that. i put my hand back on paul’s shoulder, where it likes to curl up sometimes. paul suggested i cool it until we were out of eyesight of the officer. which i thought was cute.

that was the first sign i had that paul was remotely concerned about the situation. he was so otherwise nonchalant about the whole thing. (later he will tell me that i'm very distracting. that i spread all over like cream in coffee, impossible to extract. and he will laughingly hold me accountable for his driving for ten blocks in the dark in oakland with his lights off.)

i was not unduly concerned about what might have in another age seemed to me like a rebuke. it was not the first or the last time that night that paul asked me to (in one way or another) downplay the p.d.a. there was the restaurant, too, where paul asked me to ‘behave’ –twice, i think! and he had told me, before the cop pulled us over, that he felt like he ought to want to play, but he didn’t. maybe we could go somewhere and make out for a while, though, which i thought that was a fine idea. i mean, my body really enjoys engaging with his body. and i had missed it—i don’t know why, but it always feels like it’s been a while.

we never really did go find a place to make out. and though the situation did give rise to a question or two in me, i did not fall into a chasm of uncertainty or into any major doubt about whether or not i thought he was no longer interested in me. i was not feeling very insecure, which i thought was delightful. in fact, i was really admiring the way that he can be so differentiated, the way that he can honor his own truth, the way that he can be really present with where he’s at and where his body’s at in any given moment, and the way he can communicate all of that really directly, but warmly and with ease, the way he can say no in such a way as to make it worth a thousand of some other folks’ yesses. really. as scott longwell might say, he gives good no. so i was fascinated and excited to be learning. sucking it all up. absorbing it so that i will know how to do all of those things. i really appreciate how he happens to be modeling exactly the kind of integrity, self-care, warm direct communication, and differentiation i am working towards manifesting in my life.

and, i did decide that i would let him make the first move next time. i mean, let’s get real. so, i let him email me. i let him call. and he did both of those things with what i thought was phenomenal dispatch. and we ended up having this delightful conversation. he said that he wanted to check on me and that even though he didn’t want to play the other night, that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested. on the contrary. i laughed a little more than was necessary and i didn’t communicate all of the things i was thinking, but it was really nice to hear what he had to say even though i wasn’t lost in a muck of insecurity or anything, it was still really nice to hear it. i thought it was lovely that he was so thoughtful about things. the conversation got playful. i started talking to him about this letter i was writing him about delight and this story i kind of love and he laughed and said (without me even inquiring about this) that i could put it up on my diary and dedicate it to him and don’t leave out the part about the cop pulling us over and us having to keep our hands to ourselves until we were away, ticket-free. somehow i got the impression that i could write anything i wanted about him and put it on my diary and it would be okay. but i might be imagining that. i don’t know if he said anything to that effect or if i just made it up. i asked him to put it in writing. it was nice. i thought, then, it might be nice to give him the little poem i wrote with him in mind. i think i should write more for and about him. i would like that. i think maybe he might like that, too.