the habit of being

Girls who like girls like girls because they are so girly.

I have a new cousin, Bridget, who is twelve and straight as a board, with a back not much broader than a grown man’s hand. She is delicate and precisely spoken, her hair is long long and brown and shiny without a single curl. Her walls are covered in horse show ribbons, arranged by color. And she has a green feather boa from the dollar store draped over her mirror, and the feathers are molting, so the end is just a green string.

I lay in her room, in the extra bed covered with pillows, and read her copy of Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret and she said “Do you happen to like grape Pez?”

I gave green and white treats the size and shape of chocolate chips to her pet rats - Mimi and Aria - and she was really my favorite person in the whole world, while I was visiting Delaware, for her mom’s wedding to my Deadhead uncle.

I drank champagne and took blurry pictures of her, wearing high heels I could never manage myself. She rubbed my shoulders - she’s proud of having strong hands from riding, so she’s always offering people massages. I wish all relationships could be like this.

. . .

Girls who like boys like boys because boys are not girls.

The why of #5: It has some to do with the way you make me like me. First of all, there is that you are not skinny. Your not-skinniness makes mewithyou skinnier. Feeling skinny and small makes me happy. Your hugs render me crushable and weightless; they are very good. Then, there is the way your hands are rough like loofas, which make mine feel a little smooth and pearly. Your hairiness makes me meticulously groomed. Your boxiness makes me circly. Your embodiment makes me airy and transparent, floaty and flighty.

And, there is how your words are flowery and vibrant but, well, not very literary. Maybe because you’re too happy. Men have less trouble being happy, sometimes. I know so many words to convey sadness. Words about obsession and words about desire. Words about hatred, words about lust. I have written so many words like these, but I simply do not know the vocabulary of happiness. Perhaps there is not one. Happiness is just too small - happiness is staying under the covers when it’s cold outside, and being half asleep in that way that makes every five minutes that go by feel like an hour.

Oh! I like going through my day smelling like your shampoo, which reminds me of your hair, which I like to have my hands in. I like that I can just barely touch you and suddenly your entire self is reacting all over the place, like you can just barely stand it, you are so.. touched. I like that I can make you react. I like that power. Relationships are so great before they are complicated.