on the Zen of being 'fixed up'

I look at my history with women, those I have actually had some sort of relationship with, and I note a pattern...a pattern that reinforces my natural shyness.

I have almost never made the first move. Psyche and Suede were strange exceptions. Almost all involvements were triggered by an overt move by the woman, from the soulful eye picture of the Panther to the pagan mating dance of the Leopard to the Valkyrie's space cadet overtures (a long and bizare story in and of itself).

Now, for some reason or other, it seems like half of my closest associates are spending a portion of their brains wracking them for ideas as to whom to fix me up with, let me just say this: Don't. When the lover is ready the paramour appears. Let nature and the flow take its course, rather than risk a friendship in what could be a disastrous match.

In a subculture where aggression is considered a sign of passion, I am an awkward conundrum, but I am always to seek my own level. In time, all plays out, appropriately.