I Have To Ask The Right Question

She smiles. She knows that I'm closer now to revelation than I have ever been before. Or if not to revelation then at least to understanding what it is that I'm looking for as I crystalize my thoughts and ask her the one thing that I've been wanting to ask this whole time.

"Why am I doing this?"

"Doing what, dear? You've been doing an awful lot. You'll need to be specific."

I almost push up out of the chair and maybe in my mind I start to pace. I'm unpacking everything in the moment and laying it all out for myself more than anything because I'm finally starting to grasp it, the spark of inspiration that sets flame to revelation.

"I'm straight, or at least I thought I was. So when I was a man I figured I was only interested in women and maybe that's still applicable right now, because I'm a woman who is clearly far more interested in men than in women.

"Bisexual? Probably. But not biromantic, if that's a thing.

"Rachel's the perfect example of that to me. She proves it. Because I held such a torch for her for so very long and I always figured that she was my dream girl, because she was everyones dream girl. And I like her and I liked her and I want her, but not in the way that I thought I would. Being with her is amazing and she knows how to make me feel good, how to feel really really good, but she doesn't set the right kind of butterflies in my stomach, the kind I thought would be there.

"I just don't know, though. Because I've never been in love before and I don't know whether maybe it's just not as amazing as I thought it would be. Maybe this just is what love is. Maybe it's not that lightning strike that everyone talks about. And maybe it's just that I was expecting something that really wasn't there and never would be.

"Right now, though, it doesn't feel like I can be in love with her. It doesn't feel like I've got it in me. And if I can't be in love with her then it must mean that I can't be in love with women, because Rachel is perfect enough to love and definitely deserves it and if not her, than who?"

I am nearly panting, trying to catch my breath after my run on monologue until I remember that I don't need to breathe in my dreams and I settle in, staring wide eyed across the table at the woman who waits patiently for me to continue.

"But none of that has to do with control."

I don't know whether I say that or she does but the truth of it settles in like a lead weight. I stare down at the table between us, the old lace an inconsistent pattern that seems to almost shift like it's alive, subtly and slowly reworking itself as it unravels and binds aorund into new patterns with each moment all happening so slow that you never quite catch it.

"None of that has to do with control."

I need to know. I need to know and I need to know it and I twist my hands around themselves as I try to focus on that little question. Trying to find the words and trying to find the meaning and trying my damndest to find myself as I tear my eyes away from the table in front of me and stare across it over at her.

"Am I the one in control here?" I ask, with all of the urgency and all of the desperation that I am truly feeling.

Before I know it I'm shaking so badly that my vision is going blurry and I'm breathing so heavy that I'm starting to go dizzy and panic is seizing me, long cold fingers of it slipping around my heart and twisting tight as I clench into myself and squeeze the words out.

"Am I in control of myself? Are these my desires? Is this who I really am? Is this... is any of this my choice?"

And I'm terrified, waiting for the answer. Because I don't know what I want her to say.

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