King Rat (gkr) wrote,
King Rat
gkr

Deirdre

Second in the series (some private).

I met Deirdre at the Mercury in February. She's more or less the first Sea-goth I met. And the start of me becoming part of the scene. Sloane was hitting on her, and we invited her to IHOP after the Merc. I bought… for about 7 people. I don't recall much else of her at that point.

I got to talk to her at the Mercury for a bit when she bailed on a ski trip she had planned. Still sick, she couldn't be aged up in her apartment. Yet again, I don't recall anything of what we talked about.

In March, she invited me to a party she was throwing. Lots of local industrial band members there: Tom and Fritter, Jason and Anna, Chris and Alexia. Couple others I think. I heard (and forgot) more about band politics than I'll ever hear again. Why she invited me, I don't really know. But for some reason we became friends. We started emailing each other after that. Ten to 15 emails a week. She drove me to Victor's funeral, knowing I had a ton of unresolved issues with respect to Matt.

Why I liked her? She was the first balanced woman I've ever met under the age of 40. Self-sustaining. Head together. She's got her faults: a tendency to agree to do too many things, sometimes hard to schedule things with due to item #1, a fear of commitment, and sometimes she undervalues herself too much. But she's smart, helpful, caring, and beautiful. She can cook (and with lots of garlic). Very trustworthy. She would never intentionally use something against me. And she doesn't have the hole in the middle that the wind blows through.

I have issues with touching and being touched. It scares me. But I knew I needed to get over it as mrsloane says. No need for Dr. Phil books. No need for therapy. Just needed to get over it. I still generally don't like people touching me. But Deirdre is the person who pushed me to get over it. She likes touch. She made a point to initiate contact. I sat with her one night at the Mercury in a cramped booth. I caught myself squeezing myself as far to the wall of the booth as I could, so as not to touch her unnecessarily. I stopped. I forced myself to sit comfortably, to let my leg press against hers on the chair. Then I had to force myself to relax, to breathe. I also remember, in September at a party, asking her what time it was and having her not hear me. So I took her hand, so I could read her watch. She jumped a little, and then squeezed my hand, but was ultimately disappointed that we had not just had a moment. Still not the touchiest of people (nor do I ever want to be), but I blame her for getting me over the worst of it.

She became one of the two women I turn to for advice on relationships. When J played me, she helped me through it. When I thought my latest interest was out of my league, she laughed at me. She pushed me to pursue it anyway. She told me I was worth more than I gave myself credit for.

Now, if only I can give back as much to her as she has to me.

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