“The Mississippi’s mighty, but it starts in Minnesota, at a place you could walk across with five steps down…And I guess that’s how you started, like a pinprick to my heart, but now you rush right through me and I start to drown…” Ghost, The Indigo Girls
So, when did it really start? The first time I saw Jessica? No. The first time I spoke to her, or she to me? No. The first time I was really aware of being sexually attracted to her? No, long before that. The last month or so of class, when burgeoning self-awareness surfaced? No, long before that.
It’s hard to identify when my feelings really began. I mean, I can identify what I call the point of falling in love (Jessica just walking across the classroom, saying hi to me, and me becoming acutely aware of my attraction to her). But I was not consciously aware of falling in love at the time, I only recognized being in love after the semester ended. Looking back, I can identify that moment in time as a sort of falling over the edge of the cliff.
But I had felt the pull, or tug, of love for a long time before that. I’ve begun thinking about when that love may have started, or at least when what eventually became love first began to pull on me. Certainly, I felt it building during that whole semester, a sort of heightened interest in her, which of course I expressed by ignoring her.
Jessica was in another class of mine about two years prior to this one. I don’t remember a whole lot from that class. But I do recall feeling a sort of very low level pull toward her, just a barely perceptible heightened interest. I remember a man in class who was interested in her, saying out loud in general “I’m not seeing anybody, how about you, Jessica?” And she sort of widened her eyes, and said something like “Yes, I’ve been seeing someone for two years now.” The guy goes “Oh….is it serious?” Jessica goes “Well, it’s sort of serious. We’re not engaged or anything, but we’ve been living together for about two years.” The guy said “oh”, looked disappointed. I remember feeling such empathy for him and thinking to myself ouch, poor guy. Later in the semester, or maybe earlier, I can’t quite remember, Jessica was talking about being at the Pride Parade and a student (it may have been the same guy, but I don’t know) goes “Jessica? You’re gay? Or bisexual?” and her eyes widened and turning away she said “Well, no, neither one actually…my boyfriend and I just like going, we think it’s fun!” I felt amused and thought Well, she handled that pretty well. I remember when she nervously asked me about her topic for her paper, and I remember feeling kind of disappointed when she didn’t want my feedback on the paper after the end of class. I pushed the disappointment away. Individually, none of these recollections is particularly important or meaningful, but taken all together, I believe it indicates an interest in Jessica that I simply did not allow myself to be fully aware of.
In the next class, two years later, I barely remembered her. Consciously. But it’s funny to remember that even very early in the semester, I think around the third class meeting, Jessica was absent and I remember feeling kind of sad and wistful, and thinking I’m not going to see her today. I remember trying to talk with her before class and she kept referring to this other professor whom she clearly admired in more than one way, and I thought Ok, she doesn’t really seem to want to talk to me. When a conversation amongst a few students took place in front of me, and it became clear Jessica was engaged, I remember kind of thinking oh well, that’s that and feeling sad. I remember sort following behind her like a puppy, going to a seminar, then apparently staring at her like a, well, like a lovestruck idiot, and others sort of noticing. Then I noticed them noticing, and thought oh, was I staring?, felt embarrassed and looked down. But again, I really wasn’t conscious of what I was doing, I was just doing it. All of these thoughts were sort of conscious and unconscious at the same time. I just wasn’t spending any time with them, didn’t put them together, didn’t allow myself to dwell on these thoughts and feelings at all.
Looking back, I can’t identify exactly when love started, only that it did start, and grew and grew and grew until it wasn’t containable anymore and spilled over and through my heart’s defenses. What-would-become-love began with an imperceptible pinprick, then grew and grew, slowly and quietly but purposefully, until I fell over the edge and was truly fully in love.
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Dec 27 2008
