[ARC 3: THE END OF AN ERA]
The opened identity of you is something that must be contended with by others. Combined with the natural hesitancy one has towards their own being, this can become a source of much turmoil within. But it is this gap between one's ability to direct their self, yet inability to control others' perceptions of that self, where much fear of rejection lies.
This was apparent with Sylvia Flores, who was not a woman one might expect to have difficulties in romance; she was tan and muscular as a wedge against her various insecurities. She had learned to not think deeply on what she wanted; usually if she had a woman in her bed she was simply grateful for her luck.
As she took a drink in this nightclub, she turned to listen to her mentor Grant, who was a muscular man with arms made of steel. "You gotta approach her first." he said. "Chicks don't do anything to initiate, unless they're so drunk that you can't bring them home. I mean, you know, at least straight women. You got to be one for a couple of years, so you know how it is."
"Yeah, I guess so." said Sylvia. "You really think I've got a shot at fucking her tonight?"
"Look at her. I don't think anyone's gonna be exactly racing to steal her away from you."
"I think she looks nice. She's got curves in a lot of nice places, she's got a fat ass, I mean... Do you really think she's desperate? I mean, would it look bad on me if...?"
"Shit, man, what does my opinion matter? You're the one trying to fuck her, not me. My two cents is irrelevant."
"Well, fine, but I just don't want to put in all this effort and then have someone better looking at me, thinking... you think she's even in the mood to talk to anyone?"
"What, you're gonna be one of those lesbians who constantly worries about being a creep? You worry too much about how other people see you and you'll end up on the outside of yourself. Or you could die alone, I guess."
A woman approached Grant. "Hiii, how are you?"
"Sounds like I'm about to be feeling good."
She giggled, and Sylvia watched as their banter developed, not unlike that of a snake charmer and its reptile. It was a method of being she had wished to emulate, but she had always privately felt somewhat embarrassed by Grant as well: he had not developed a sense of shame nor truly politeness. But she had almost grown jealous of heterosexual men, who seemed able to access women more easily than herself.
Eventually she excused herself and milled around the club three times, glancing over at the woman she wanted to see, before eventually approaching her at the bar. "Hi, I hope I'm not bothering you, sorry."
"Oh, not at all! Honestly, you're the only woman to approach me all night. People here are just so standoffish, you know?"
"I know exactly what you mean."
"Yeah, you'd think everybody here thinks I'm growing horns out of my face or something."
"Oh, I mean, uh, sometimes places can be like that, you know? Everybody gets paired off and then... yeah."
"That's right."
"Yeah."
Silence perdured, until the woman said: "Are you a student? You've got a badge on. A Ura... you know, the ones with-"
"A Urasaria one, yeah." Sylvia giggled, but it was not a manner of laughing which came naturally to her: it was feminine and light. "Just a first-year student, though, uh."
"Well, you definitely look strong enough. You'll have to be gentle with me, I just gave birth a few months ago." she laughed.
"Oh, uh, you have a kid? A baby, I mean?"
"Yep, but he's more my ex's son than he is mine, anyhow. Not like you'd see him if we go home tonight anyhow."
"Your son or your ex?"
"Both."
"Oh, uh, okay. Is your ex still around? Is it an ex-boyfriend?" said Sylvia.
"Sorry, maybe I'm asking too much."
"Awww, you're too cute. But no, he's not around. He says for three years that he wants a kid, but he leaves as soon as I give him one. Isn't that something? Men just don't know what they want, I swear. I'd say they're pathetic, but that'd mean even knowing that they are. All I got for that is stretch marks and an extra thirty pounds."
"I mean, I think you look great! You're gorgeous, I mean. I'd be shooting myself if I ran off someone who looks as good as you."
The woman looked to Sylvia; she was not accustomed to a situation she did not need to pursue hard, mostly having slept with the type of people who pitied her. "You really think that? You're pretty good-looking yourself."
"Of course I do, yeah." Sylvia hesitantly wrapped her arm around the woman, who leaned into her slightly. She tried to think of the correct thing to say as if this were a woman she could solve. "Being gentle enough? I know I'm strong."
"Mmm, you can be a little harder. Maybe later tonight?"
"Maybe, yeah? Do you mean that?"
"I don't let go easily once I've got somebody."
Sylvia was not really sure this woman did much for her own esteem; self or otherwise; yet she had undergone a string of sexual failures of late, and so relented. "That's what I like to hear. Same with me, I mean."
As she wrapped her arm around the woman and leaned slightly against the bar, she felt eyes crawling upon her. She felt she should be more comfortable, more confident in such a position, and she tried to match what she thought others would do in this state. There were other women who she viewed as prettier, whose beings lacked hesitancy; they seemed to possess a smoothness Sylvia lacked. There were a few men kissing women as well, and Sylvia would stare until the woman would catch her eyes and she looked away.
It embarrassed her, but she felt that if she had no one to compare herself to, then she would not know what she was; her character was continually undermined yet constructed by the presence of others. Certainly, she was a student; she fought hosts and had a Revenant; she lifted weights and ate more protein than medically advisable. But for months she had attempted to emulate what seemed easy to others in sexual matters, and she could not answer why she expected others to like what she herself did not. Buried underneath the integument of action and ingratiation was a prison of desires, fleet and stabbing, only vaguely attuned to what she wanted when left undirected.
As she looked to Grant, who was already charmed ignorant to her stare, she felt the woman beside her pull at her jaw to kiss, and she resisted, until she breathed and could make herself one with the stench.