single-girl sonar

I was waiting for the Max downtown last Saturday and I got restless, so I ducked into a shop and bought myself a ring. I didn't see it in the window or anything, I just walked in knowing there'd be something there for me. And I was right--six dollars and perfect. No need to deliberate. I was out of the shop and back at the lightrail stop before the Max arrived, the funky silver ring on my right middle finger looked as if it had been there all along. It makes me happy when I look down at it now--a testiment of spontinaity and kismet. Okay, it's only cheap, silver-plated jewelry, but come on, a whole series of epic novels has been written based on a little band of metal. Humor me.

The ring has concentric circles radiating out like sonar. It fits how I've been feeling these days--tuned into life around me and sending out some waves of my own. Like last night. I went out for beers with a good friend, mostly because I knew his cute co-worker would be there, too. I rode my bike to Mississippi St. and pulled up to the patio of one of my favorite spots. They'd already finished half a pitcher by the time I was locking my Cannondale to the railing. I saw him watching me from across the patio as I crouched and fiddled with the lock. I paid attention to my movements, hoping he was still watching and already interested--take off the helmet but don't brush those dramatic, wispy hairs back; don't use your teeth to rip the velcro on the bike gloves off; and for godssake, don't yank your bra or jeans up...I don't care how much you want to readjust...he's watching. I don't know if he was, but I wasn't risking the wrong signals. He's a sweet guy with steady eyes and a great body. We talked well together, although I've learned that conversations with new people can be deceivingly interesting just because it's all uptapped--Really, you're from Ohio? Oh, you have a labrador? Yeah, I love the bratwurst here, too. Not too tough. That's why those first meeting conversations are much more about the waves--the eye contact between the banal background check. And that's what I've had a lot of recently. I've collected a handful of imaginary suitors this way, none of whom have my phone number or have offically asked for a date, thus their imaginary status. But, there've been waves.