One of the neighbors -- a handsome Indian dude I'll call R -- had a vegetarian potluck birthday party last night to celebrate his 32nd. I skipped my writing group to go because how often do you get to hang out with your neighbors and their friends? It felt a little bit like skipping Wednesday night church to go hang out at the pizza parlor with the Christian Youth Group (in other words, it felt naughty, but was harmless).R has a girlfriend now, a gorgeous woman he met at a meditation retreat. I've seen her biking around the neighborhood but wasn't sure she was with him; he's been so reluctant to commit in the two years that I've known him. The two of them had spent all day and the night before cooking amazing Thai dishes, and when S and I got there, they were pouring cake batter into floured pans and she was heading out the front door to put them in another neighbor's oven because R's doesn't work.
My social discomfort flared up when we walked through the door -- me with my Grand Marnier cranberry sauce, S with his curried cauliflower -- because I didn't know any of the three people there. But they were very sweet and talkative; one of them was the father of the two-year-old running around, the other two were a hetero couple (who were particularly talkative and sweet; before long S was involved in a deep, comfortable conversation and I let go of my silly fear that I have to take care of him in social situations because he's so q.u..i...e...t). I hung out in the kitchen talking to R and H and greeting the others who were arriving rapidly.
Then my future boyfriend arrived. (M doesn't know he's my future boyfriend, and with my track record he's probably not even into boys, but that doesn't really matter for a crush, does it?!) We met in the kitchen then it started getting crowded so I went out to one of the couches, and all of a sudden he was sitting next to me. He had melted milk chocolate eyes, and reminded me of somebody, maybe Rufus Wainwright but a little less fey. He's a psychotherapist in training, and met R (who's an acupuncturist) at a training for another kind of therapy which begins with an H and which I can never remember -- and which has nothing to do with psychotherapy or acupuncture. M and I talked deeply until everyone else had food in front of them, then we went our separate ways, for food and to mingle with others. A few times in the night we found ourselves across from each other and it was comfortable and it was nice, and we're gonna make a wonderful couple...!
A couple of other neighbors arrived -- the big fat pregnant woman, L (going in for a C-section on Monday), her three-year-old and her two step-daughters, and C, the guy from the house behind our triplex -- there were also lots of others in attendance who had lived in our apartment and the various other houses and apartments in our enclave (what C calls the Squirrel Hutch). Nice people, interesting, climbers and meditators and roller derby gals -- Sa announced last night that she found out that "Gladiators" will be auditioning in Austin in February and it has been her childhood dream to be on "Gladiators" so she is going to audition!
S left early to come home to study; I stayed till after the cake was served and then a little longer, talking, helping wash dishes with the two-year-old's mother (who had arrived later), then talking some more. I snagged a piece of cake to bring home for S, gathered up our dishes and leftovers and headed out. Of course I hugged R because he's a sweet man and we hug. Then M was standing there saying, "Nice to meet you; good luck with your novel," or something like that, holding out his hand to be shook, which I reached past and hugged him. Then I hugged R's girlfriend, and nobody else, and headed out the door, embarrassed that I had just done that, hugged that relative stranger, knowing it wasn't worthy of my embarrassment, not that anybody thought anything of it but me, but I guess because I was attracted to him it made me feel really self-conscious that I had.
But I'm glad I did, because it still feels nice to think about.
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