DISCLAIMER: whaddya mean they're not mine? psh. anyhows, this is Joanne's POV.
Illogical
by kaydee falls
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Mimi's back. How the hell is Mimi back? She died. I would bet my own life on it. And yet, without a doctor, or resuscitation, or anything, she suddenly was back, with an Angel story. Do I believe it? I don't know. It's a hard thing to wrap my mind around. It doesn't make sense to me. It isn't logical.
Then again, the best things in life never are.
I'm a logical person. Logic, and experience, have taught me never, ever to fall in love at first sight.
Many women don't have quite this problem. They see a guy on the street, they're attracted to him, they generally will assume he's straight. Me, I see a gal on the street, I'm attracted to her -- and, frankly, I can't assume that she's a fellow lesbian. Makes things a little difficult; I can't really hit on anyone until I get to know them well.
Fortunately, I am not the sort of person who falls in love easily. I don't even develop minor crushes easily. Until senior year in high school, I'd assumed that I was a heterosexual, for the sheer reason that as I had never been attracted to anyone, I had never been attracted to anyone gender-specific. Then I developed a crush on my best friend at the time, a girl named Crystal. Jesus. No wonder they call it a I mean, as soon as I identified the nature of my feelings, I knew that it would never work out -- she was very, very straight. I was crushed.
So that's why I made a promise to myself that I would never fall in love with anyone before determining their sexual orientation. It wasn't too hard.
I broke that promise the very day I met Maureen.
I had gone to a singles bar after work that evening. I had just had an all-around bad day. A client was giving me a lot of trouble -- Somebody Murget, I remember -- and I was, well, single. I had tried a couple of relationships with women in the past few months, but none of them had clicked. I thought they were flippant and silly. They thought I was anal retentive.
At any rate, I was sitting at the bar, sipping a gin and tonic, when I realized that the woman sitting on the stool next to me was talking to herself. Not particularly loudly, but surprisingly coherent. Stupid son of a bitch, she was mumbling. Asshole. Prick. Lousy piece of--
Excuse me, I cut in, but I had to ask. Why did he break up with you? I regretted the words as soon as I said them. They were rather, um, cold and insensitive. I realized that I might be getting drunk.
The girl glowered at me, her dark eyes smoldering. He didn't, she said shortly. We weren't dating or anything. She slurred her words slightly, and I figured she was probably getting drunk as well.
The routine heartbreak of a single chick? I ask, again not particularly sensitively.
She blinked a few times, considering. she finally decided. I'm not single. Abruptly, she submerged herself into the glass of alcohol again.
I cocked an eyebrow. Funny, why a non-single girl would spend her evening in a singles bar, miserable over a man she wasn't dating.
She sighed and came up for air. The glass was empty. Her eyes met mine mournfully, and I fell for her in seconds. Stunned by the epiphany, I immediately began berating myself. Stupid broad, you know she's straight! my mind screamed at my heart, which was cowering behind my rib cage and pleading for mercy.
Her next question came out of left field. Do you ever wonder about your sexuality?
I gulped, as my spirits unaccountably soared. No, I don't wonder. I know I'm a lesbian.
She eyed me for a long moment, appraising me, then her gaze drifted back to her own empty glass. I was just thinking, she commented. Standing a little unsteadily, she paid her tab and left.
After that, I went to that damn bar every night, in the hopes of seeing her again. It was stupid, pointless, and illogical -- but maybe that's why I did it. I don't know. All I knew was that beyond all sense and reason, I had fallen in love with this woman, and this was the only place I could entertain the hope of seeing her again.
It was a few weeks, but she came back. She came back!
I saw her the instant she entered the bar -- no big surprise, since my eyes almost never left the door -- and immediately my mouth went completely dry. My heart flopped around helplessly within my chest. A stray thought glanced across my mind, wondering why I was behaving so foolishly. Illogical. Why should I get so worked up at the sight of a woman, when I didn't even know her name?
She plopped down on the stool next to mine, and ordered a drink. When it came, she gulped it down, and ordered another. Only then did she notice me.
Her brows furrowed. she said, Weren't you here the last time?
She recognized me! Something I had said or done had actually made an impression on her! Say something intelligent, hissed a voice in my head.
Uh, yeah, I said intelligently. The voice in my head abandoned me, disgusted.
She flashed me a grin. I thought so. Isn't that funny? I mean, this is only the second time in my life I've been in this bar, and you're here again!
I forced a nervous smile. Yeah, strange how these things work out.
Well, now that I've bumped into you twice, might as well introduce myself. Maureen. She extended a hand to me, which I shook.
My name is Joanne.
And then we talked. And talked. And talked. We poured out our life stories in ways that only two complete strangers can. Obviously, there were things that I held back, and she probably glossed over or exaggerated a few things herself, but it didn't matter. She told me about one friend's recent marriage, another's recovery from drug addiction; I told her about my own circle of friends at the office. She described dropping out of college to become an actress; I mentioned working hard to become a lawyer. Every sentence accented our differences, our completely unrelated lives. We didn't have a single thing in common, except for a love for life and friendship. I loved her more every second. And somehow, she ended up inviting me to her apartment.
I then said something really stupid. I thought you had a boyfriend. Mental smack on the head for that one. She hadn't at all brought up her comment from the first meeting.
But all of a sudden, that earlier question hung in the air between us heavily, almost tangible. Do you ever wonder about your sexuality?'
She smiled, a little mysteriously. He doesn't live with me.
I nodded. All right, then.
So I went back to her apartment with her. And, well, what happened, happened.
The very next morning, she called up her boyfriend and dumped him.
Since then, I can't say that my life has been perfect. Loving Maureen, I've discovered, is extremely difficult. As I said, we are two very different people, and sometimes we clash. Okay, often we clash. But I wouldn't trade it my life in for anything in the world. And that's where I find myself, at this moment, this Christmas Eve. With Maureen pressed tightly against me, and me grinning like an idiot, completely, utterly happy.
And you know what the best part is? It isn't logical at all.
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all right, i took a nice long break from writing, but now i'm back. unfortunately, that means that i expect reviews. so review. please?
