Ambiguity excites me when it comes to would-be lovers, any old stranger who happens to pass close enough to touch, sometimes smell, but not to pinpoint. So, you can imagine the thrill that surged through me when I saw them in the frozen foods aisle, ambiguity in spades; that glorious moment when my 70 percent certainty that they were a woman plummeted down to a perfect half/half after they dropped a Hungry Man home style meatloaf into their shopping cart.
“I’ve got your hungry man right here, Baby.” I eyeballed their groceries, made no attempt to hide that I was eyeballing them, too.
Sometimes that’s all it takes. You aim, you fire, and you hit a bullseye. It’s beautiful when life is that simple. When stars align. Times like those, I’m tempted to believe in fate, or luck, or God.
Ambiguity fades away when necking snowballs into heavy petting, transcending to savage passion –an avalanche that leaves the mountain bare. Cue the toppled furniture; the agitated cat that vanishes under the bed; shirt yanked up over shoulders, and lo! a wisp of treasure trail; my own shirt torn free of its buttons, discarded with froth and zeal. Clawing. Slurping. Grabbing in the dark. That cat, wherever it is, watches, and realizes it is less wild than its human owner.
And now, when the denim falls, belt buckle and all, wreathing a pair of not-so-hairy ankles, it is this moment, finally, when those cheap-brand trousers are kicked across the room without direction –and with it, whatever scrap of ambiguity remains. What began as mystery ends as romance, or, depending on how things go, an action. With luck, it won’t be a comedy. Heaven help me should it be a horror.
That night, after we fucked, we shared a meal. There was meat, and it was good, even after unwrapped and scrutinized. Then, there was something else, thawed and freaky. As I chewed, and chewed, and chewed, eventually swallowed, the cat meowed from under the bed, so we can rule it out: our food wasn’t feline (which came as a great relief).
I finished my meal in silence, doing what I like best: guessing, not knowing. It was totally ambiguous, whatever it was.