PRECISION

I’m unclear exactly what it is that makes our vision precise. I’m not talking about 20/20 vision but seeing things we had not before. Considering the infinite quantity of visual information our cortex gets, what is it that filters some things out but not other things? And what is it that makes us filter the same image differently? For me, it has something to do with moods; I literally see the world differently depending on my mood. However, I don’t know what it is exactly; I just know what shifts it.

Alpha Hottie and I went for a stroll today (11/22) and he just looked different. It wasn’t just that he’s grown a little stubble on his chin but he looked decidedly different. Well, not different but more precise. In fact, he looked so precise, I found myself wondering who I had been looking at before.

Bless his heart, he’s more than willing to make the effort to speak to me in English because, "Wo meiyo poutugnhua" (I have no Mandarin). So, as we strolled, it became evident to me just how different he is.

Thus far, I’ve only really known married men and single men too nervous to treat me like a human being. Everyone has leapt at making me comfortable and/or treating me like a precious, fragile specimen. Alpha Hottie just is with me. It’s really nice.

He was clearly nervous about his English as he hasn’t really used it in a long time (dear god, were that I in possession of that man’s recall) but he wasn’t nervous about me. He was simply happy to see me and when we first bumped into each other, he asked if I would walk with him. After some serious arm-twisting on his part, I relented.

Today has been a lovely, gray, Pacific Northwest sort of drizzly day. It’s the sort of day that makes me comfy in my skin and talking with Alpha Hottie just added to the loveliness. Without the external distractions of others, we really had a chance to introduce ourselves and I like him even more than I did before.

His face has taken on such specificity that I am embarrassed by the brevity with which I must have been looking before. As he talked and said the occasional word in Chinese, I watched his mouth (helps me comprehend) and his chin seemed to have completely altered itself beneath his new scruff. His lips seem a darker shade of red. His eyes lit differently when speaking to me in English and his skin, dark from a job that keeps him outside most of the day, seemed to have more a cinnamon hue than a honey one. More than the beautiful creature I (and a lot of female primary school teachers) had been watching, he took on the distinct and full features of a man. At one point, I was almost overcome with the urge to kiss his cheek for his specific beauty.

While we talked about our backgrounds, I got to watch him and noticed that there was no time spent behind the mask that I could see. Whenever he couldn’t think of a word, his face would reflect either frustration or confusion. It was such a comfort to be with someone who is not only lovely enough to meet me in my language (which he has no practical need of in his life) in his country but who trusted me enough to let down his guard fully. By the end of our chat, he was even offering up personal information of his own volition. I quite liked it and am utterly smitten with his easy charm.