You Are Sexy

I remember I sat on a bench on 72 street and Central Park west on the park side, reading the book Interpreter of Melodies. I was in non stoppable tears after reading The Temporary Matters–the first story that ends with: they wept together for what they now knew.

I am not sure after how long of a crying, in my teary eyes, I found myself begin to read a very different story. It is called “You are sexy”. My tears stopped miraculously since I was totally emerged into this story with a little of everything: satire, darkness, pain, but only a little, almost just a hint.

In the story that smart little boy said to the heroin “We think people are sexy because they are different”.

That sentence sticks to me.

And then one night you told me: But you are very sexy. We have connected in many ways other than physical. Yet you said what you said, with the BUT.

I don't know what does that mean but I feel sad hearing it. I feel a push back to the Caveman age from the sidewalk of 21st century New York where platonic crush is plenty. The latter is always more seductive to me.

I believe there are all kinds of sexiness and some of them are universal. But sometime we do find a kind of sexiness only in people and places we seldom seen or visit. We call that exotic.
Things could look or feel sexy because it is rare, different from what we see normally, or we know that we will not keep them for long.

I want to know which category my sexiness falls into in the mind of you. I hope whatever category it is in, it will be different from the categories that I mentioned above. Or maybe that is too much to ask.

I am no super model or bombshell material. I am not tall and quite a petite build. But I get my fair share of lustful looks or appreciative stares from men on the streets, in bars or in a meeting. But so are many other women.

I draw no particular pride or joy from such attention, since it is not customized, it does not take extra effort on the side of the lookers. And it says nothing about me inside the shell I am walking around in even it is a stylish shell and deserves the attention it gets. But my soul is not on the cover.

I check out sexy man too in the same way, but I know in that look, it holds such little hope to give or desire to know if the sexiness is only based on looks but not on how he talks, thinks, or lives his life or treats people around him.

And I could not in this side of the world be rid of the shadow of Asian fixation and its impact on my image in eyes of man. That is such a weird notion when it comes to the fixation of any kind. Like a fondness of certain type of fruit or cheese. It indicates a fitting into the category.

But can we really tell what is causing the feeling of attraction? Is it a smile, a pose, shape of a finger or every time you begin to hum that tune?

So when you say I am sexy, I inevitably wonder is it because you find me different in many ways from you or your prior encounters, or because I am sexy in the most conventional way that you will find on a woman whom you love and find sexually attractive and refreshing on each passing moment that you are with or not with her.

Let me rephrase, do you find my soul equally sexy?

Yes, I enjoy being sexy but only after you know me, not just because you know the look of me and touch of my skin or the feel of my long dark hair through your fingers or the fantasy of all of the above.

I will not be truly happy with a man who looks at me not much different from how a man will look at me when I walk past him for the first time and he whistles.

Let me know you will not be that guy who could have whistled when you see me walking by.

Instead, you would have come up, look into my eyes and say: “Can I know you?”

I am old school when it comes to this subject.