“And in this new empathy, in this pants role, like an opera, she thought she understood what it was to make love to a woman, to open the hidden underside of her, like secret food, to thrust yourself up in her, her arch and thrash, like a puppet, to watch her later when she got up and walked around without you, oblivious to the injury you’d surely done her. How could you not love her, gratefully, marveling? She was so mysterious, so recovered, an unshared thought enlivening her eyes; you wanted to follow her forever.
A man in love. That was a man in love. So different from a woman.”
Lorrie Moore, “Community Life” from The Collected Stories. I love Lorrie Moore so much, she’s brilliant and hilarious.
Once, last year, I was trying unsuccessfully to explain to a male friend/former lover what it was like to walk around in that sliver of time between the first kiss and the retelling of it — and how the feeling is like a bubble, very delicate but joyful, and it must be handled with exceeding care, this gorgeous, limited pleasure. Pop! He looked at me like I was crazy. “I think guys think about this differently than girls do, Cassie.”