Was it the fumbling attempts at conscious communication, which still somehow seemed to miss the point? Or the disappointing sexual experiences, in whi...h I wasn't even brave enough to communicate my true desires? Regardless, I was filled with a sense of loss (paradoxically).I turned to one of my other great loves for comfort: gardening. A friend of mine took me out to the field to pull weeds at the commune where he lived. It was a delightful Spring day. Butterflies danced overhead, the wild. Was she just being nice, or did frumpy me have a chance at love? I carried a few extra pounds on my frame from eating well; did she like pudgy girls? Did she have a lover already? Where does she live?Like I said, the thoughts and images were frantic and unconnected, until she held me at arm's length and said, "Relax ... you're making me nervous."I tried to blank my mind and concentrate on dancing and the feel of her body next to mine. I'd been right, she hadn't worn a bra, and the slight. More

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