the magic of a simple yes

Rene and I had a wonderful morning full of shower acrobatics that you wouldn't believe. I have to mention the shower thing because a couple of weeks ago, when I asked Rene if he wanted to take a shower with me, he said, "no, it's too soon."

Too soon?!! After what we just did on this poor couch?

I thought it a little strange, but people have their boundaries and their unexplainable idiosyncracies and I think it's important to honor them. I wasn't upset or hurt, I just found it interesting how this man could give me his body with such zeal but found it "too soon" in our relationship to take a shower together. Is a shower more intimate than love-making?

I don't feel that way about showers. I'm well aware that showers are an incredibly intimate experience, but I used to take showers with my friend Khalid in college all the time, and we never had sex. It was just our thing. I've also taken showers with a couple of guys that I wasn't all that close to, either because i find shared showers fun, sensual and spontaneous or because it saves time when two people are rushing to get ready. So, i had to realize that the issue of showering is not a major boundary for me.

One of my really good friends in Tuscon, AZ asked her visiting lover if she could look through his wallet. I don't think she was trying to be nosy, she just wanted to learn more about him through what he carries. He ended up getting really offended and refused to let her look inside his wallet. She was like, what? I gave you my body. I showed you all the places that I love. And you won't let me see your stinking wallet? But, that was his boundary. He felt that her looking in his wallet was a special sort of intrusion--even though he may have only had a couple of twenties, a hung-over looking drivers lisence picture, and a couple unclothed sticks of gum. They ended up getting into a big argument about it at the dinner table (yes, they were out to dinner) leaving a dark cloud over the rest of his visit that never went away.

I just find people's boudaries fascinating. Like the hooker who won't kiss on the mouth. Either way, this morning, after working up a good sweat, Rene said he was going to take a shower and asked me to join him. I started blushing so much that I forgot the magic of a simple yes. The shower was exquisite and I don't think he'll ever hesitate taking a shower with me again.

A man that I've never been able to resist came over this afternoon, about an hour after Rene left to go to work. He's a great friend of mine and I love him dearly. He will probably always be in my life and he's definitely one of the most anomalous people that I've ever met. We've been lovers for about 3 years.

Sitting on the couch watching TV and he started feeling me up. He was just trying to get it started, this thing that we usually do. Next thing I knew, my shirt was up as if it was raised by invisible strings. I began to swoon, getting caught up in the moment--then came back to my senses, wiggled my shirt back down, and placed his hand (that was palming my breast like a basketball) onto the safest part of my upper thigh.

He said, "so, your relationship is monogamous?"

I thought about it. Rene and I haven't discussed it. The beautiful thing is that we haven't put any labels on our relationship and he hasn't pressured me to explain what me means to me, or to make our relationship official. But, he calls me baby in that special way, is teddy bear affectionate with me in public, and we went to get HIV tests together. I think he's my boyfriend, but I don't need it verbalized for it to become real. It's real already. I explained all of this to my friend and told him that I'm going to try this for a while. I haven't had a boyfriend since 02.
My friend understood but still yearned for me badly. And I let him.

a blood-filled clinic in Harlem

The craziness of this week all started on Tuesday when I took on a new job. Damn, everything is happening so fast! I essentially walked into this non-profit after school program in Harlem for a meeting with the director who ended up liking me immediately and hiring me on the spot. After I told them a bit about myself, and gave them a few ideas about what I would like to do, the director basically asked, "when do you want to start?" and "how much do you charge?"

Since then, I've been thrown into this whirlwind of a world that is all about young people and their attainment of knowledge and development of character. I'm now an integral part of an HIV/AIDS initiative that they got two grants for and I will be teaching the young people to write and perform poems dealing with the AIDS epidemic. We are going to make this process into a documentary, a video, and eventually a full scale spoken-word play. It's really exciting, tangible stuff and it turns out they're going to end up paying me well for my services. My job title is "poet in residence" which looks really good on a resume.

I start Monday. Right now, I'm in the process of creating a cirriculum for a 3 week intensive course on HIV/AIDS and performance poetry. I've never worked with young people on such an intimate level. I've given talks and given one day workshops while on the road, but I've never stuck around long enough to develop relationships with them. I've gotten really used to dealing with college-aged people and perhaps have become almost too comfortable with that age group. So, this is my chance to break out of that and it's scary. I'm very intimidated by young people, always have been. I essentially have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know what will work or what will tank. I don't know if my method of relating to college students will work in relating to this age group and this demographic.

Fortunately, I have two staff members who are going to be helping me on this project, though I'm leading the course. I met with both of them today to discuss our cirriculum for the next three weeks. They're both have masters degrees, like myself. One has a masters in visual art and the other one in performance. We're going to be a really dynamite team and I think our backgrounds complement each other really well. They've definately had more experience working with young people than I have (though I'm not sure if they know that) and I felt subtle hints of condescention at times, on their part. I felt they got a little self-righteous at times in their approach to young people. I'm still not sure if this tension was real or imagined. I'm willing to say that it was the latter.

Interestingly enough, right before I went to the place for my interview, Rene and I had gone to a free clinic in Harlem to get tested for HIV. We went early in the morning, filled out our anonymous forms, sat in the waiting room, kissed and waited. Held hands and talked. It was actually a really good time. I've never gotten tested with someone before; it was incredibly romantic and sexy. These days, they prick your finger, take your blood and the results show up in 20 minutes. As I waited, I thought about all of the dirt I've done and the irresponsible behavior that I partook in in the last year or two. Before they draw your blood, they ask you all these questions about all of the partners you've had in the last two years and "if you're hiv positive, will you be able to provide all of the names, addresses and phone numbers of all of your partners in the last two years?" "if you're hiv positive, would you be likely to commit suicide or homicide?" The questions were really starting to scare me! The questions themselves just made the likelihood of having the virus so real. All of that illusion of invincibility flew out the window, me, as a sexually active woman.

The lady called my name for my results. She asked me to close the door. I was like, "ooooh shit!" Literally, the minute I sat down, she told me I was negative and that was it. I was in and out of there in 10 seconds. When they called Rene, and he went in and closed the door, I counted down the seconds in my head. 10...9...8...7... my palms began to sweat, thinking, ok, he should be out really really soon. I heard the door groan open and he emerged from the hallway. We left the clinic, smiling and holding hands as if we were leaving a lollipop store. Then, he took me to my interview and waited outside for an hour, in the car. Meanwhile, I was inside, finding out that I would be dealing with HIV/AIDS much more and for much longer than a single morning in a blood-filled clinic in Harlem.

a chance in hell

Two weeks ago, my friends Rog and Kristine plotted that they were going to get me stupid drunk for my birthday. Jan 22 was to be the day. My birthday actually fell on a Saturday this year. What luck! What debauchery filled our imaginations! The night grew inside our minds. We decided to make a night of it. Dinner, dancing, drinking. More and more people hopped on the birthday band wagon. Yes, it was going to be a fun night.

I haven't celebrated my birthday for quite some time. It just hasn't mattered for the past few years. I'm not a big birthday person. I forget people's birthdays all the time. So, why should anybody remember mine, and why should I shove my birthday down anyone's throats? That's been my rationale. But this year, I really wanted it to matter enough to bring everyone together. I wanted Lorna to meet Kamilah. I wanted my cousin Kaylan to meet Rene. I wanted Lasana to meet Rog. All of these wonderful permutations of people, getting to know eachother. That's a birthday present all in itself.

I pictured it all in my head; Rene turning on the charm and making everyone laughing, their eyes saying, yes Samantha, you picked a good one this time. I thought of the sweet dread of my cousin Kaylan telling embarrassing stories about my youth. I thought of Kristine's endearing snort that occurs every time she laughs, and Rog's habit of buying people drinks for no particular reason. And me, the meat in everyone's dance sandwiches, all night long. It was all going to be perfect....and then, the weather report came. A huge cataclysmic blizzard was scheduled to arrive right smack on the forehead of my birthday. But, 25, it's special right? Right? And an exaggerated snow prediction wasn't going to stop me from turning 25 in style.

Rene and I woke up around 10:30am on Saturday, looked out the window and saw no snow. We laid in my twin bed and enjoyed eachother's bodies. Next thing we know, we looked out the window again and the snow was coming down like confetti and the ground was already layered in white. I'd never seen snow come down so fast. The whole sky was white; I could hardly see the next building over. Rene had to go to work for 3:00. He got dressed and left. I admired him.

I knew I had to go out there. I had no groceries in the fridge. And my newfound craving for stawberry milk was starting to make me itch. I put on my winter gear and headed out. This so called "blizzard" looked much more threatening from 32 stories up that it actually was on the ground. How gorgeous: the white carpeted streets, and the snow falling everywhere. I loved walking in it; I loved the way it made my feet slide slightly. I savored the short walk to the Food Emporium and found myself walking slower than I ever have a day in New York. The temperature wasn't that cold. The wind wasn't that vicious. The most threatening day was turning out to be the most benign, the most giving.

I got back, unpacked groceries, cooked some eggs and called my buddy Elijah. Elijah is an amazing vocalist who I recently befriended. We talk every day and he loves to watch movies just as much as i do. I wanted his company, so i called him and told him that I wish he were here with me. By 3:00, he was at my door, fresh from Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. He brought me a snowball for my birthday! How thoughtful! I went on the terrace and threw it down and watched it fall 32 stories, only to land right on someone's head! I couldn't believe that the snowball lasted that fall! I didn't mean to hit anyone, but damn it was funny and I would do it again and again! Maybe snowballs do have a chance in hell. Maybe I will, too.

We watched the third Harry Potter as the snow fell all afternoon, all evening. One by one, my friends started dropping like flies. Omar wasn't going to be able to come in from New Jersey. Lasana wasn't going to be able to make it from Queens. Kristine wasn't going to be able to make it from Brooklyn. Kaylan, who lives right across the park said, "have a nice night." My darling Rog was the only one who was still down, he was in rehersal most of the day and brought a bottle of his best Bourbon in his backpack just in case. Now that's a friend. Once he realized it was a wash, we decided to reschedule it for next Friday, and he ended up heading back to Brooklyn.

So, it was just me and Elijah. Rene called me from work in the evening and I told him Elijah was over and that we were watching a movie. When I hung up the phone, Elijah asked me if Rene minded him being over there. I said, "no, he shouldn't." Plus, Rene and Elijah met each other last week and they had good rapport. They seemed to have liked each other. Elijah said that if he were in Rene's position, that he would feel insecure. Very honest. I gave Elijah this whole speech about how relationships are about trust and how Rene shouldn't have a problem with him being over, and how any man that dates me has to understand that I have male friends in my life and it will always be that way. Elijah said that people's experiences shape who they are and I told him that I agreed, that Rene actually has been cheated on before. One of his ex-girlfriends got pregnant by another man while the were still together. Yes, experiences do shape us, but I told Elijah that that doesn't change what I require. I require someone who will not try to prevent me from having other men in my life. I've never cheated on a boyfriend before and I don't plan on starting now.

I laugh now to think of how sure I sounded of myself, how sure I can sound of anything once I put my mind to it. The snow kept coming down harder and harder. The apartment was cozy and comfortable. Elijah and I had enough strawberry milk (he loves it, too) to last us until morning. 9, 10, 11, midnight came around and Elijah still hadn't left. We had put in another movie, Angels in America, which was 6 damn hours a long! When Rene called again from his job at around 12:30am, I found myself in a dilemna. I answered the phone, and walked away from Elijah, and up the stairs. Why was I doing this? I may not have been honest with Rene, but I was honest with myself: I didn't want Rene to know that Elijah was still there.

Why not, though? I wasn't doing anything wrong. Elijah and I have a platonic relationship. I guess the question is: what's the difference between 1:00 in the afternoon and 1:00 in the morning, while your man is hard at work? In my own mind, when did Elijah's presence become inappropriate? This "thinking for two" is some new shit for me because I haven't had a boyfriend in over 2 years, since Omar back in 02. I'm used to having men over-- platonic friends and wild lovers--till ungodly hours and not having to answer to anybody or having to care about anyone else's feelings. I didn't mean to be dishonest with Rene; I just didn't want him to feel insecure. I didn't want him to start thinking things that weren't there.

Rene didn't ask if Elijah were still there. And that alone makes him beautiful to me. If he did, i honestly don't know what I would have told him. And perhaps, that's what makes me not-so-beautiful.

Apparently, Spanish is not the only thing I have to learn and relearn.

a graveyard of dead words

There's a new man in my life, and the closest thing I've had to a boyfriend since my ex Omar, two years ago. Yes, I'm that girl. Whenever I tell my closest friends that I have a boyfriend, they flip. It has always been this way. None of my friends can picture me married or with kids.

Two Fridays ago. The Rain Lounge in Brooklyn.
I went with my friend Kristine b/c she wanted me to meet her "crush," this guy named Ray. Ray brought a friend. All I noticed about him was his swagger and the sexy way he danced with women. Smiled a lot too. I didn't know his name. I danced all night with some guy who danced with me like he was trying to possess my body. It was ridiculous. And then got puppy-dog hurt when I didn't give him my phone number afterwards. Whatever happened to just dancing and letting it be?

But I'm digressing towards the unimportant. It was when the club was over and we were all standing outside like forlorn children wondering what to do next; it was when we got into Ray's car and started driving toward's Kristine's place; it was when this nameless friend turned around and introduced himself as Rene, and smiled at me, shook my hand. It was when I took a ferocious bite of his pizza. That was when I knew the night turned in on itself, that we stumbled into the backdoor of something that neither of us were expecting: each other.

Kristine's house: Kristine and Ray, feather kissing in the corner. Cutsey cutsey kisses that sound like rice krispies in milk. And Rene and I on Kristine's bed, swallowing each other whole. We forgot where we were. I couldn't believe this was happening. I couldn't believe how well we clicked, our bodies. And we were already moving so much faster than Ray and Kristine, who knew each other for at least a couple of weeks. The contrast between the two couples was hilarious.

And that was the beginning. So I guess I'll describe him. His smile is a furnace. His eyes are the only kind of pools that I wouldn't mind drowning in. I look and fall into them, head first. The craters in his face (he suffers from acne) endear me to him in a way that imperfection usually doesn't. His nails are hideous because he has a disease called siriasis (sp). He's an electrical engineer; fixes refrigerators and elevators.

I described it to him last week, "I think we like each other, but our bodies are in love each other." He touched my nose with his finger. This flowering thing between us has a fun intensity to it. Sounds like an oxymoron, but that's exactly it.

The thing is, he's the kind of guy that I hardly ever date. He's not an artist/thinker/intellectual of any kind. I always date those kinds of guys. I love being intellectually stimulated, almost as much as I love being intellectually stimulating. But, he dances in a way that affects me and he speaks Spanish like a prince. Without knowing it, he teaches me what it is to be truly selfless. He has an unmistakable sincerity that makes him so beautiful to me.

Last night, he saw me on stage for the first time. Astonished. Like I said, he's not a poetry head, but I brought him into my environment, my world. I held the doors open for him and walked through with that smile I'm growing to crave so much.

The East Village: after my show, we went to a Thai Resteraunt. His first time eating Thai food. We were the only ones in this empty resteraunt in the middle of everything. He placed his Dominican machismo delicately aside and let me order for the both of us. We ate from the same plates, the most romantic thing I've done in a long time. Grilled chicken and Pad-See-You. I taught him how to use chopsticks. We held hands, fantasized, kissed. We spoke in Spanish. I haven't spoken Spanish in so long. My tongue felt like a graveyard of dead words. He makes me want to relearn everything about that gorgeous language that I've forgotten.

Last night was divine: a true date. So this is what it's like. After dinner, we took the train to Brooklyn. We kissed underground like we would never see sky again. We got into a borrowed car and went to Black Betty's in Williamsburg, where they were playing some tripped out Indian music. It was like the DanceHall Reggae of the East. We lounged together, shared a Long Island Iced Tea, entwined our bodies best we could, talked, laughed, admired eachother's faces, kissed some more. He dropped me off in the City around 3:30am, then headed back to Bushwick. I called him as soon as I got snuggled into bed...guess I didn't want the night to be over. I kept him company the rest of the way home, on the phone.

Rene and I are going somewhere, yes. We haven't said this to each other, but I think we've said it to ourselves: I want to commit to this person. I don't want anybody else (yes, Brad Pitt is single now, I know!). When it comes to the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing, do words make it official, or is the connection enough?

My biggest and only concern is that I will lose interest simply because he's not the kind of guy that I'm used to dating. But, that would end up making me very narrow and shallow, wouldn't it? When talking to my friend Rog about this, he said that he's dated women like that before, but in the long run he couldn't deal because they just didn't "get" him. That's an interesting question: to what extent do our lovers have to 'get' us? And while we're focusing on all the ways they're not 'getting' us, what if they're 'getting' us in ways that we don't even realize?

Two days ago, I felt that Rene would never get me, and then there was last night. Something about last night has left me less concerned with this. I mean, when it boils down to it, who cares? When I'm with him, I get myself. I am just going to let go and enjoy this man. I will open him up to new things without being pretentious, explain things to him without being condescending, and rely on him to teach me all of the languages he knows.