leaning perfect

i had a date with a strange {almost} chinese girl last night. we have been trying to get together for months. we kept scheduling, but one thing or another came up. we would discuss what we were going to do, i would go to her office to draw up a plan, later we would bump into each other in a DVD shop and the dates would change. we finally spent some real time together and although i really enjoyed myself, it was just not the night that i had hoped for (although it was better than i had hoped). the need for things to be perfect got in the way, at the last minute we pulled back and decided to get back together today and decide what to do next. every encounter leaves a permanent mark on us, so i would rather wait to make sure this one is the best it can be.


the night started by sitting on the couch and waiting for her to get ready. i was a few minutes late, and i thought she would be all set; but she decided to change at the last minute. she had friends sitting around on the couch, and the moments of politely sitting while they discussed betty and veronica cartoons in a rojak of english and chinese was surreal. i never really read the archie comics, i was more of a novella reader as a child, but here were a group of adults that clearly enjoyed the art and substance of a classically amercian comic. (note: veronica has the dark hair, and she "is" the hot one)


she finally called me into her room. she was smaller than i remembered her. but she had a strength and was fully in control of the situation. she talked for a few minutes as she began to work. i assumed it was to put me at ease when she opened by asking if i was worried, and used the word virgin as a friendly taunt. i thought that she might enjoy watching big guys who are used to being in control come to her and defer all control to her. i watched as she sized me up while we talked and noticed as she shifted her approach after quickly profiling me. she said she could tell i was not a square and wanted to make sure i was okay with the pain to come.


i was, i told her i was fully in her control. she needed to lead and i would simply relax and enjoy the experience. she seemed surprised by this possibly thinking i was just being stoic. maybe she was right, she is a professional and has done this many times. when she began to clean me up, and then rub some lotion on my skin i asked a question, which made her smile. she answered me with a bit of edge and asked if i was having second thoughts. second thoughts were behind me, i was committed to this. i was just hoping the experience would be something close to what i hoped for.


that was when her boyfriend came in, she had mentioned him as we had talked. he sat down and smiled at us. clearly he was part of the family, no different than "boy" who had been floating in and out of the studio as she had been getting me ready. by this time i was lying down on a bed in the middle of a brightly lit room, stretched out in a crucifix like pose with alcohol being repeatedly rubbed on my arm. she asked if i would take off my shirt, i told her i was comfortable if she was; again she was skeptically surprised at how comfortable i was for a virgin.


we spent three hours together. she brought the session to a close by admitting her frustration. she had been trying to make things just perfect, but decided it was time to stop so she could go home and reconsider the approach. i had thought things were great, but clearly she saw something i did not, and given she was the professional and this was my first time, i was more than happy to go with her vision.


it has taken months for me to get this far; years actually. there is no reason to push and accept something less than perfect. this will be something i need to carry with me for the rest of my life. once my leaning perfectionist is happy with her work, i will proudly be a different person. i will have the marks to prove it, marks i will either show or hide based on the situation, but this is something i will need to except and enjoy for the a long time.


we are getting back together this afternoon. there is a promise of two new designs, one iban and another maori. i feel a bit like a large piece of white marble with the little artist standing in front of me envisioning the sculpture within. i have a shaved arm, with exposed white skin showing the shadows of yesterdays free hand drawings. i have an artist who cares enough to get it right; to expose the dark lines hidden beneath the white skin. lines that only she can see until she brings them from where they are hiding within.


the fact that she spent three hours re-drawing lines on my body, while discussing relationships, addiction, parental expectations, teaching styles, bondage and personal hygiene... well, don't let her know that some of her customers might come for the conversation as much as the art-work.


in borneo, it's all about the conversations and the permanent marks it leaves.