She's Simply Wuvwee

Haven't felt like a school-boy in what feels to be 100 years or more and was shocked, shocked I say, to encounter a gal that was so appealing I couldn't keep my eyes ON her. In situational happenstance fate demanded we interact for half an hour or so in a private setting and after 5 minutes I could already detect mild perspiration around the collar and slightly elevated BP. Is this a prelude to a heart attack? It was a peculiar feeling and thinking I can always rely on my golden tongue I had this unnerving worry that I ought not test it now. Brevity, lest you live to regret verbosity was echoing between my ears.

We used to semi-joke that "if you think there's something going on, there is" which was really a tribute to one's intuition insofar as if the idea crosses your mind there's likely an inherent trigger. Although we're talking about human chemistry an apt analogy might be if you're watching a movie and are suddenly aware that someone in the film is acting. It ought to never cross your mind, and seldom does, except when there's an actor so stark in their pitiful performance that you're jolted into this recognition.

I'm not sure where one's idea for what is womanly or manly stems from and indeed it's the topic for another discussion. But for my purposes here "Susan" was the epitome of what I would consider 'womanly.' There was an enchanting aura about her, stunningly attractive with the ease and grace of some majestic earthbound view with what seemed to be the perfect balance of assertive professional and Sunday couch snuggle bunny.
If I allowed myself closer proximity there's no doubt she would have smelled like fresh honeysuckle so I placed an imaginary separator between us in an effort not to inhale deeply in the nest of her flowing hair, and then get smacked.

Something interesting happened. For the lurkers who do not know me it should be known that generally I'm considered chivalrous and not just to outrage Patricia Ireland, which is an added bonus, but more just as evidence of an innate respect for women cultivated by my adolescent(and adult)respect for my own sister. I had truly decided to give her lots of social space employing Mr. separator but by the time I realized what was happening, thrust into cognition by the touch of her hand, I had reached up and was assisting her down 3 somewhat insecure wooden steps. There was no overt reaction on either part, just an old-fashioned pleasantry extended during discourse of whose subject I certainly cannot recall.

Then it happened again but with a much more telling feature. This time there were 3 brick steps, obviously sound in their structure but perhaps a bit narrow. Upon reaching the bottom my hand instinctively arose and while she could have traversed them easily in the time it took to reorganize, she scurried to free a hand which was bogged down with papers, folders, etc in an effort, I believe, to thank me for the gesture. Awwwww.

It would be impossible, in my view, for a woman such as this to not be the apple of someone's eye homicidally jealous with tree-trunk sized biceps. Even so the warm feeling I got in the many times I found my mind wandering to the memory today may just be worth....well, something more than I would normally sacrifice to get to know her. Plus, she never spit, even once! Is this a keeper or what?