go on, take another little piece of my heart now, baby

at the coming out dance

me: hey babe, how's it going? how do i look? (i step back so she can appreciate my corset, heels, fishnets and short short skirt*)
TWIL: hot.
me: thanks, i try.
her: you don't have to try that hard. (kisses my hand) i'm working, so i have to go back up front, come see me if you want.

(later. we hug hello and she kisses my cheek. we start dancing together; she is noticeably better than i.)
me: i can't dance!
TWIL: you'd be fine if you just didn't think about it.
me: i'm nervous.
her: it's okay. i love you even if you can't dance.
me: i'm good at other things! (mock pout, hands on hips)
her: like what?
me: i'm not telling you!
her: i guess i'll just have to inquire [sic] for myself, huh?
me: uh-huh.
her: i would. i really would. but you're just too much for me.
me: that's bullshit.
her: i know, it's just that i'm married! (holds up ring finger, which does indeed have a simple silver band on it. i hide my nausea.)
me: i know!

*the butch/femme ritual of appreciating a femme when the femme is dressed ("femmed") up is important. femmes are high maintenance. hence, this is not just me being egotistical but a weird flirtation ritual. anthroplogy lesson over.

this is the part where i sigh. the dancing involved a lot of grinding and body contact and her face near my chest (which was in a corset - if you've seen me in a corset, you know the consequences of this). everything we said required close proximity due to the noise level. there was a lot of kissing of cheeks and hugs - some of which turned into lingering hand on hip contact, which is swoon-worthy, in case you don't know. we held hands, fingers interlaced. she seemed really sincere - she would've bedded me already, But. everything that happened would have normally ended in Something. this was Seduction, kids. But.

hearing it ("i'm just married") made it final.

i'm officially in mourning.