It Creeps Like An Ant Up the Back of My Neck

It's always been something I've been aware of.  That is, I'll never deny it--nor do I think of it very often, for better or for worse--but for the longest time I was immensely ashamed to admit that I had never been kissed.  It's immensely easy to do so in this expansive anonymity, harder in person, even to a shrink.

I work everyday on desensitizing my shame.  It's a strange contradiction in my logic that I'll accept my great achievements, when I reached into that top percentile and felt my chest involuntarily swell with a pride that resists deflation, but am astounded by failures which must be par for any course.  But I very rarely feel ashamed of my chapped and fumbling virgin lips anymore.  I've never had anyone like me more or less based on my relative performance by that standard.  I've never lost or gained friends or smiles and frowns respectively because of how I responded on the kissing survey.  In fact, the most pressure I ever felt was from my shame.

Today, it is not so much the shame of having others find out or stumbling through the gates of this particular race.  What I feel instead is the impending...the impending __________...only calling into mind what the 42-year-old single female junior executive/receptionist/teacher would call the 'biological clock'.  It sits in my back pocket, outofsight&outofmind.  It sits. 

3 feet tall, 36 inches giveortake, is another notch on the growth chart, pencil mark on the kitchen wall.  Stay there too long and the notch becomes a trench, from the pencil a Sharpie.  Ticktickticktickticktickticktickticktick  And the 3 foot tall midget has become an oddity, an unknown--someone for whom people say, "I don't think any of us can even know what he feels."  An unexpectation.  Tickticktick...I'm just afraid of the unknown inbetween when the clock runs out.  How do the emotions found in the 60-inch teenager creep out in the 75-inch adult's words?  An unexpectickticktion.  What will my thoughts say when I expose their flaws to someone who left them behind way back, out of sight in the rearview mirror?  For all the goodwill and steelycomposure brought to such an exchange, the soughtafter approval of Another requires exposure to the inevitable damage of Another's shock at An-Unexpected-Other.

I don't worry and I don't fret over it.  It sits, while I go elsewhere, debating from time to time whether to return.  Tickticktickticktick....I'm rapidly growing shorter in this....tickticktickticktick....can't I have that thing I've seen others--friends--seek out with reckless abandon and speak of in high regard afterward?  I've seen fat girls with mustaches, rail-thin guys with owl-eyes and all in between succeed.  How did they finish before I even got up?  There's still tickticktickticktick, but I need to stop sitting...tick...tick...tick...tick...Why am I still sitting?

 

Nougat Nougat
18-21, M
1 Response Jul 13, 2007

Very interesting.......