Desert of the Red Dress

A few weeks ago, the hope that this romantic desert I have been crossing would come to an end and that a rich rainforest was on the horizon sparked in my heart. I feel I did my work and am ready to move on to engage with men again in as healthy a manner as the average person. Maybe even a bit healthier. I admit, at this time, I am not sure exactly what I a seeking. Serious or not, I am willing to give something a try. More than willing. Longing perhaps. Though not in a desperate way (see Two Drink Minimum and its comments).

In order to keep this hope and manifest it, I splurged on a fabulous red dress and new shoes, perfect for a night of salsa dancing. I even purchased some extra goodies for . . . all to no avail.

Yet, I had the red dress. My field of dreams. If it remains in my closet, he will come. Only I cant even imagine a date where this red dress would be appropriate in were too cool to be anything but casual LA.

Until this week. It began with my students asking if I would be there. Then, I ran into a colleague who invited me along with some other faculty members. Yes, the senior prom. Ironically, I never went to my own prom. I imagine Ill make some minor small talk with the other teachers and my students. It will be interesting to see them outside of class, all dressed up. And for them to see me outside of class, all dressed up. Moreover, it will give me some sort of new credibility since I showed up at an after hours school function.

Sadly, though, my big excitement for the evening is wearing the new dress. Yet, I wonder if I should save it. Though, saving something never made the desired objective come more quickly. Usually it just results in realizing I denied myself enjoyment of what I do have. So, fuck the field of dreams. I own the dress. I shall wear it and laugh out loud in the middle of my desert.