Introduction to Purple Scissors

 Anything worthwhile
    Anything you believe in 
    Is worth waiting for

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration for me to say that some of the best relationships I’ve ever had only lasted a few hours.  That includes cuddling, goodbye, and possible transportation time.

I've never had trouble meeting women.  I'm not sure why they like me, but they do, and I'm more than happy to go along with the program.  I like to think it’s my animal magnetism, charm or humor but I am almost certain it’s the amusing sense of reality I possess about myself.  I think I’m rather shy, where as most people find me somewhere between neurotic and obnoxious with a peculiar comical edge. Strange but nonetheless it’s been working for me.

I’ve had long-term, short-term, mid-term and interim relationships.  I’ve dated women of color, women of substance, women of substance abuse, blue-collar babes, white-collar whores, activists and actresses, money makers and money takers, the tall, the short, the stout and the lean, the BBW and the local homecoming queen...  I have a dating resume to be proud of, lots of experience, a higher education only life could offer and a multitude of extracurricular activities.  I don’t date with promiscuity in mind.  I am actually in search of that one undying love, the one we are born for, the one the Jewish call  “bashert,” and I have faith in its existence.

My mother told me I was born from hope.  After three miscarriages, she successfully created me and appropriately named me, Angelia Speranza, meaning: Angel of Hope.  So you see, it was my destiny to be a hopeful romantic, a poet, an idealist who still believes in Romeo and Juliet.

I’ve also found that love can be found anywhere at anytime.  Years ago, I met a lovely woman at the college SAT exams.  We cheated, and then celebrated our collaboration at the local gay bar.  I met another while stuffing my face with popcorn in the lobby of a movie theater, and yet another when I was furiously beating an ATM machine that had eaten my card.  (I do make a great first impression).  The point is that you don’t know who, where, why, or how, but you certainly do know when love hits you. 

                      


 I remember once
    You told me you hate eggplant
    Strange to think of that

I was working as the Facilities Manager for a public school system in Southeastern Massachusetts when a new Director was hired for our Alternative High School.  The students there were one step away from prison and were admitted to the school in the hopes of being salvaged.  The job required someone with an abundance of patience and a compassionate soul, someone who could use their strengths to fortify others’ weaknesses.

Her name was Alexis.  We first met at the School Board meeting that was announcing her position.  She was tall, pretty and had an undeniable magnetism.  Her friendly greeting and quick witty banter made her immediately likable.  She had presence.  With a five-foot, eleven-inch frame, unruly blond hair, warm, welcoming blue eyes and a pleasant open face that sported an award-winning smile; you just couldn’t help but be drawn to her.  And I was.

I was eager to get to know her better. Luckily for me, we were both categorized as “administrators,” and had to attend monthly staff meetings.  Occasionally, Alexis and I would stop for a chat during breaks.  Other times, I would have to do some work in her building, and she would follow me around chitchatting endlessly as I worked.  She was amusing, intelligent, and engaging, and I enjoyed every second of her playful and infectious company.

Our liaisons through mandatory meetings and an endless stream of repairs in her building (coincidence??) gave us time to learn more and more about one another. A few months after her arrival, my office was transferred into her building, largely due to the tremendous amount of equipment I stored and the lack of space at my old location.  But what luck!!

Once settled into my new office, Alexis and I frequently bumped into one another in the halls and developed an enjoyable friendship.  Each time we met, I realized more and more how funny and charming she was.  She could weave a great story, and animated her tales with grand gestures and entertaining, if not hysterical, inflections in her voice.  She never had difficulty holding my typical ten-second attention span.  I wasn’t sure if Alexis was a lesbian, but there was definitely some sort of spark igniting between us and I really started looking forward to running into her.

One afternoon, as the workday ended, we walked out to our cars talking about the upcoming Christmas break from school and our individual vacation plans.  Her hint about a possible Provincetown (an openly gay community on Cape Cod) excursion led me to believe that she may be a gay, but I just didn’t know for sure.  You see, being gay in a public school system often requires discretion.  Isn’t it amusing how gay folks feel each other out through key words and phrases to determine if they "really are" and then eventually get the ole verbal admission with a great sigh of relief.  

Anyway, once the, "I wonder if she’s gay?" mystery began, I searched for new ways to speak to her more and more often and she was pretty easy to find!!  Maybe we were trying to figure each other out? Nevertheless, the mystery grew and our friendship flourished.  I found her to be one of those people you could automatically respect because you could just sense her integrity.  She was also incredibly entertaining, warm, open, and undeniably sexy… and I was smitten! 

We spoke often, laughed heartily, and emailed regularly unraveling our lives without any formal disclosure of our sexual preferences.  Then, we decided to meet for dinner.

                      

  Unbelievable!
      Enticing! Tantalizing!
      Exhilerating!

I was sitting at the bar in the chosen restaurant coloring in the kiddy menu when Lexi, as I had begun to call her, arrived.  Without any hesitation, she sat down and abruptly blurted out, "So do you have a sexual orientation problem?"

"Huh?  Uh, no, I don’t think so," I rebuked as she stole my crayons and began coloring. 

 "Do you?" I asked, attempting to take back my crayons.

"No," she smiled and stole the green one back again!  At that moment, I knew I could really love this woman.  

But still no disclosure!!!

Now it was my turn to blurt.  "For God’s sake woman, do you have a girlfriend?"

She paused, and then said, “yes.”
.
“Oh.”  Trying not to show my disappointment, I asked, “How long have you been together?"

"Thirteen years,” she quipped and I choked on my Southern Comfort.  I mean, who the hell does that?

"Wow!!  That’s amazing.  Are you happy?" I asked, secretly hoping to hear her say, ‘No its horrible, awful, unimaginably appalling!’

"Hmmmmmm... Yea.”  (She paused.)  “It’s more like...”

"Content," I interrupted.

"Yea.”  (Another pause)  "Do you..."

"Have a girlfriend?”  I interrupted again.  (I can be annoying like that.)  “Nope."

I thought I caught the end of a devious little smirk but brushed it off as my own hopefulness.  Then we began recounting our life stories with the actual use of pronouns!  We spoke easily, ate, laughed, drank and even flirted a little.  A couple of times, I found myself taking in the length of her, always ending at the hem of her denim skirt which displayed an exhilarating stretch of leg.  Long and lean, those lingering legs plagued my mind wondering where they ended.  At one point, she caught me taking in her lovely limbs, and I found myself blushing and her smiling that mischievous grin once again. 

                   
 Those long lovely legs
     stirring surreptitious thoughts
    I cannot reveal

The next day she looked so good I could hardly stand it.  When she talked I barely listened.  I remember thinking, ‘I wish she would stop wearing those skirts to work.’  They hug her hips and thighs like a brand new Porsche taking a smooth curve along A-1-A on a warm Sunday morning, top down, Billie singing and miles of supple leg ahead.

There's nothing like a tall woman in a short skirt.

After talking to her in the hall for a few minutes she turned and walked away. All I could do was stand there and watch her go.  It seemed the further away she got, the longer those legs became, and then, before I knew it, they were surrounding me.  Long, lean and sinuous, encircling my neck and shoulders, dipping and pressing into my back, locking me between them, guiding my mouth, conducting the rhythm.  She tightened around me as I obeyed her breathy requests, and when she finally relaxed again, I rested there, my cheek moist against her thigh, watching and waiting for her eyes to open.

The sweetness lingered on a bit, but then, those blue pools opened.  At first, an obscure shyness sat behind them, but then a sparkle appeared, motioning me to start again. 

“Angie…….   Angie…….  ANGIE!!!”

“WHAAAAAT???” 

My good friend, Laura, a teacher at the school was standing beside me.

“God, you turn into such an idiot around her,” she gibed, as she walked away shaking her head.

The next day, with my morality tucked firmly under my arm, I walked into Lexi's office once again a professional.  She was standing in front of her desk, phone to her ear, back toward me, and I immediately began tracing the lines of her body with my eyes.

She doesn’t know I’m there, so I creep up behind her and gently ease my body into hers.  Wrapping my arms around her, I hear that familiar sigh.  The one that welcomes my mouth to hers, the one that invites my hands to her breasts, the one that raises her hips to mine, the one that she releases when she releases herself to me…

God, I wish she would stop wearing those skirts to work.

                       

                                        

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