You're at your restaurant, waiting to wait, and you make a comment to a co-worker-friend about a customer's particularly nice ass. This ass being worn by a woman, your manager overhears, and seems both confused and intrigued. He's not surprised by the appropriateness of your comment, but rather, the content. "Wait, what?" he stutters. Yes, I'm a bisexual woman married to a man, but I prefer the term queer. This is just to say, in a polite PSA: attraction and commitment are not mutually exclusive. Yet sometimes when talking about certain ex-loves, you leave out gender-pronouns because you don't feel like explaining yourself. Sometimes, you give them explicit intention Because you do want to explain yourself. Go back to the basics, when you learn that identity is complex & elastic, & sexy for you finds shape in fluidity. You find women handsome and men beautiful and all the in-between's as equals. And you know that if it's love, the parts and pieces don't matter when you find the one that fits. And when you meet your soulmate on the backside of an identity crisis that never quite ended, know that this will become the climax of the alpha & omega of a we that you couldn't even imagine. You cut your hair short for the first time when you fell in love with a woman, but after she'd broken your heart. After she talked of baby-dykes and life not being like a Miyazaki movie so why should we try. You grow it out but after you've found the piece that fits in the puzzle of your heart/mind/body/soul. For the after that would not have been without the broken heart, you grow it out for the wedding, letting it grow through all the stages of awkward, loving every part, from mullet to bob. You let it grow because you want options. And you plan to chop it off again. Even though your mother wishes you wouldn't, as she confides that, "I always knew you'd end up with a man." You cut it because you want to, because you feel free and easy and most importantly yourself with it short. And when you tell your partner you have to make a stop in your hometown on the drive back to Brooklyn from North Carolina to do just that, he's excited for you. He says he fell in love with you this way. And the more dapper and free you feel, the sexier he finds you. He & she, husband & wife, partners in love and equals in life, pay no mention to pronouns as poignant proxies for you & me, and the magic we make as a we.
I love the cold for the way a cup of coffee warms up your soul. For the way you keep moving your body because its motion is more powerful than that cup. I love the cold for the way we want other bodies, for the way skin clinging to skin is our favorite kind of warmth. the way this need for warmth is code for that dirty word: intimacy. For sexy, sweaty summer and its liberating lack of layers, can't compare to the subtlety of sweaters.