As a writer I can be pretty heady. That can be annoying, so I’ve made a decision to start trusting my body more. I’ve thought enough. Now, I want to feel. With desire as my GPS, I am being guided to places more interesting than where I’ve been—or away from places dulling my soul.
Take last Friday. I was on a first date in a Lower East Side wine bar, my date took their phone out a few times to text mid conversation. When I asked if it was an emergency they said, “No…I know it’s sooo rude…Sorry…” Before quickly putting their phone away as if we were a scene on Super Nanny. Immediately my body knew this was not how I want to feel on a date. It was insulting, rude in a cliche way, and honestly, boring. In the past, my brain would have taken it personally, but this time, my body just felt the truth; this person was simply not in harmony with my desires. I’m not doing Super Nanny cosplay with your ass. At least not in public.
See, for five years I worked as a receptionist where I learned to anticipate the desires of others. While a conversation may be new to you, it never is for the receptionist. Commentary on the front desk candy options, the melodrama of closing a wet umbrella, commute complaints, the way the front door isn’t properly shutting…The same phrases were lobbed at me like a carnival ring toss as I remained seated (usually working on scripts, sometimes with the phone muted or one headphone in listening to Aaliyah) for eight business hours each day. No matter how much I liked the person I was speaking to, and I really like the people I worked with, the dynamic remained the same: they were in motion while I was not. The conversation ended when they desired to walk away.
Ironically, leaning into desire makes the absence of it palpable. So I asked myself, when was a time I was actually overcome with genuine arousal in everyday life? The answer, as they say, might shock you.