Living A FantasyDear readers,
I am now into my second year of college. I chose a big school with many clubs and student organizations so that I would meet lots of other people. As a music education major I've gotten to know many "band geeks" which has helped for a smooth transition. I live in a dorm which is fun and convenient. One thing that has not changed is my opinion of heterosexual males. Try as I do I just am not confortable around them. In high school dating was such a pain. You couldn't just be friends with a guy, they always had to try something. I thought, and was told by my parents and friends, that someday it would all work out. They said I should just take things slow and go on dates and dances and eventually I would meet someone special. My high school was small and the pickings were slim. So I looked forward to a major university. I am by no means a shy ugly duckling. I like to be active and involved. Guys are constantly looking at me, flirting with me and asking me out and I have tried. Really I have tried. But they smell, they are hairy, their shaven faces scratch and they are lousy kissers. This semester it all became clear.
Obviously I had ignored the signs. They say women dress for other women and I often found myself looking at women. Staring, actually, wondering about what their skin looks like under their clothes, not in a sexual way but just wondering if their skin felt like mine. You never ask another girl that. You talk about underwear and makeup, shampoo and conditioner, tampons and pads, lotions and fragrances, and boys.
In a sociology class I started sitting behind this one girl because I loved her hair. It was a darker brown than mine. A deep dark chocolate brown that cascaded over the back of the chair reflecting the flourescent lighting from the ceiling. Long, soft, shimmering beautiful. On that day she was wearing a sleeveless polo. Her arms were like mine, tanned from the summer sun, smooth with a light peach fuzzy covering. Then she pulled her hair around letting it fall over her left shoulder. Her neck was long and blemish free. I wasn't just admiring, I was becoming aroused. I shifted in my chair, cleared my throat and suddenly realized people were leaving. Class was over and I had missed everything. I watched her leave. Then something hit me. I found her outside and caught up with her. I introduced myself, found out her name (Claire), told her I loved her hair, asked if she's like to do something sometime - all innocent and girly - but inside I wanted to just drop my books and kiss her. Her eyes were like shiny brown marbles floating in cream. A breeze blew that lovely hair in front of her face and without thinking I reached out to move it away at the same time she did. There was an uncomfortable pause as our hands met. I *********** that evening.