Something’s bugging me. Not bugged in the “annoyed” sense. More like bugged in something won’t leave me alone.

So I’ll ask the question that I muttered out loud to myself while pouring iced tea that prompted this entry:

How do I tell my boss’ friend’s wife that I love the way her ankles and feet look in the jeans and sandals that she’s wearing?

Now, before you jump to any conclusions, and I realize this entry comes after one where I admittedly felt joy at the relationship of two women, let’s get it straight that I like guys as much as the next girl.

Actually, technically, to be frank and honest, and I don’t think I’ve ever publicly written this, but I’m a self-discovered, confessed, and practiced bi-sexual. I don’t much care what’s between the legs as much as I care for commonality, reciprocity, and a feeling of connection.

Basically, I have a (strict?) set of parameters that I’m looking for and will be happy to find it AT ALL, let alone eliminate via discrimination on the basis of sex, gender, orientation, etc.

No, what I feel from looking at this woman’s ankles is simply a visceral … and here’s where I’m blocked. Lust? Envy? Deep appreciation? Connection?

Anyway, no idea what to call it. But they click … they sure do click. I’m sure if she wore any other type of shoe I wouldn’t have looked twice. But somehow, some way … I sense this … sexuality … in what she’s wearing.

Hey, maybe that’s it. Maybe she knows/feels like she’s beautiful and I’m picking up on it. Hey, I like that. Now I don’t feel as weird.

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