• About MWP
• Invitational Institute
  • What it is and how to apply
  • Past invitational institutes
• Open Institutes
  • Teachers of Color Leadership Institute
  • Antiracism in the Classroom
  • C3WP Institute
  • Writing for Social Justice
• Youth programs
  • Youth camps
  • Scholastic Art & Writing Awards
  • Camp in a Box
• Workshops & inservices
• Support MWP

center for writing | minnesota writing project

Beth Proctor

© 2000

A Different Perspective

Wow! Within seconds just the idea had his mind churning up images.... He clasped his hands together and stretched them up over his head, barely stifling the little groan he felt rising up in his throat. “Stop it!” he thought to himself. “How stupid to let her see how I’m feeling!” He dug his fingernails into his palms as he lowered his arms. “I’ve got to snap myself out of this!”

Oh, he was tempted all right. Why couldn’t he just end up at her apartment for hors d’oeuvres after the staff party tonight? But, then again, what was he really trying to prove? That he was sexy? Worldly? Or maybe just carefree, flamboyant, living life to its fullest? Hmmm....

He inhaled sharply, but forced himself to let it out slowly so he could think for a moment. No! He wasn’t trying to create the false aura of being a playboy. His temptation was being amplified for a different reason. Taking risks like this could often help him overcome his usual disabling shyness! The risk gave it more excitement— enabled him to forget his shy, thoughtful, caring personality.

His heart was beating faster now. He felt light-headed. Storm-driven winds had entered his brain and sent his thoughts swirling like leaves. By now his inhalations were quick and shallow. Every nerve-ending was awakened, bringing a heightened sense of awareness, an almost exaggerated sensory experience. Thinking was becoming more difficult, but he had a brief thought this must be like the euphoria of a drug. Was this how some people got addicted?

The refuge of students who’d filled the hallway only moments before had now drained out through the heavy double-doors behind him. Anxiety stiffened the muscles in his neck and shoulders, and he felt must look like a dork standing there, speechless. He looked at the face of the woman before him. Half-mast eyes, lifted brow and slightly compressed lips.

The voices of young children at play drifted in through the open window. The woman’s expression was shifting slightly, eyes opening, only one eyebrow up now, lips beginning to push in on each other and form a hard knot in the center. He sensed a calm center in the swirling thoughts that filled his brain. Questions were finding their way through this cranial storm: Were these intense feelings worth it? What about tomorrow? The outcome. Would there be questions? Hurt feelings? Guilt? Perhaps even a third being to bear the consequences? All the possible issues might end up being larger, and possibly much longer lasting, than the huge rush of excitement that even now threatened to wipe thoughts of those consequences out of his mind. Could he do it?

Silence. Then a cry from outside. Someone was hurt. Startled, he was too flustered to react for a moment. The face before him changed from soft beauty to a grimace of annoyance.

Realization dawned like sunrise on an ocean horizon— dark obscure night, a brief haze of gray skies and then full blazing color in a matter of a seconds.
He’d done things before due to a compulsive urge. Memories of the long-lasting guilt and regret were still with him. He didn’t want the “too-painful-to-get-out-of-bed-stage” of that again! But even as he was making this “livable” decision, he was regretting his need to make it. Her invitation was just so tempting. Something he daydreamed about extensively at times....

He looked out the window to see if the injured one had received help. A young boy was being coddled by his father, tears drying quickly as the father hugged him close.

Regret evaporated like dew on a sunny day as the man replayed the decision in his mind. A shudder ran through his body. Confusing at first, then he realized it was R E L I E F. He wasn’t going to have to deal with regret or guilt! All he had to do was say it.

“No,” he told her. “Not tonight.” Silence. A red flush of heat swept across his face. “Well, never actually. It’s not what I want.” A deep breath, tense nerves relaxing.

Her eyes widened slightly. Mild shock? Disappointment? He wasn’t sure. Moments passed, a repellent electrical tension in the air, slowly fizzling out. Now she was roughly shrugging her shoulders as she turned away from him. “No loss,” she said. She fixed her eyes on him for a moment. “Later, if you’re lucky,” she said stiffly as she sauntered away.

The Other Perspective

Wow! She couldn’t believe he was putting her through this. She’d just presented him with an opportunity she thought any guy would jump out of a speeding train to get, yet he was avoiding her eyes like they were laser pointers and he looked more like a little boy reaching to see if he could touch the ceiling, than the full grown, deliciously developed male she’d just invited over for a little rendezvous later that evening. Hmmm… Just the idea had her mind churning up images.... “Stop it!” she told herself. “How stupid to let him think I’m panting over him!”

She pressed her lips together, hard in the center, trying to get rid of some of the tension her bravery had created. She looked up at him. His breathing rate had noticeably increased. Maybe she still had a chance. She inhaled slowly, thinking of her options, reflecting on her feelings. The temptation was running rivers through her body. She flushed, wondering if the shaking she felt was visible to him. She couldn’t believe the volume of her emotions. What was causing them to be so amplified? Taking risks like this could often help her overcome her usual distaste for men who carried little brown paper-bag lunches to work. The risk gave it more excitement— enabled her to overcome her fear of rejection.

Her heart was beating faster now. She felt slightly nauseous with nervous excitement. Churning seas had entered her stomach and sent her own lunch into high tide. By now her pulse felt like the high-speed vibration of her mom’s dryer when it was overloaded. Every nerve-ending felt singed, bringing the sickening sense of electrical repellence, like her body was being pushed away, not just her hair standing on end. Thinking was impossible at this point, but she had the brief sensation that this was what it was like for people with deadly migraines, right before they hurled.

She had to make a last-ditch effort to convince him, or she knew she’d have one of those “too-painful-to-get-out-of-bed” mornings of self-hatred the next day. She took a deep breath, relaxed all of her facial muscles, remembered her last look in the mirror when she’d seen how stunning she looked with her new haircut, fashionably curled sideburns and sleek almond-colored dress. It should be enough to turn on any man! She adjusted her face to the best seductive look she could create.

He was looking at her now. Eyes like a startled lizards, brow furrowed, (with exasperation?) and biting his lip like he couldn’t get up the nerve to even answer her.

The voices of young children at play drifted in through the open window. She ditched the “come hither” look and tried to keep her face straight so her own embarrassment wouldn’t show. She sensed he’d already made his decision. Questions exploded in her brain like volleys of anger, shame, loneliness and fear of rejection: Was she crazy? Had there even been a chance he’d accept her offer? Was the risk worth it? What about tomorrow? How would she get over this one? Would there be depression? Lethargy? Inability to shake off the self-doubt and force herself to go to work? All the negative issues were much larger, and possibly much longer lasting, than the huge rush of excitement she’d felt when she’d gotten up the nerve to ask him over for wine and hors d’oeuvres after the staff party later that evening. Even now the memory of this event was threatening to be another one of those excruciating ones stocked away in her memory library, waiting to fall off the shelf and spill open whenever she was crying in bed from self pity and hatred. Could she survive this?

Silence. Then a cry from outside. Someone was hurt. Startled, she was too flustered to react for a moment. The face before her changed, as the strong handsome features slackened to a grimace of (?) annoyance.

Realization dawned like the door opening at the top of her long dark basement stairs the day her abusive ex-boyfriend, Hank, had locked her down there instead of letting her go to that male exotic dancing night at Valley Gardens awhile back— this man she’d been so wildly attracted to only moments before was really just like Hank!

She’d been emotionally tortured before by such a man and she couldn’t believe her compulsive urges had almost done her in again. Memories of the long-lasting frustration and anger were still with her. She WOULDN’T let it happen again. But even as she was making this “livable” decision, she was regretting her need to make it. Why had he provoked her into asking him out to begin with?

She looked out the window to see if the injured one had received help. A young boy was being coddled by his father, tears drying quickly as the father hugged him close.

Regret evaporated like sweat on a sunny day after you take off your gym socks, as the woman replayed the past few moments in her mind. A shudder ran through her body as she realized what she could’ve gotten herself into. She wasn’t going to have to deal with this jerk in the morning! All she had to do was get out of there fast, without any further embarrassment. She’d act like his rejection was even less important than the little pebble she now felt in her shoe. Then came her cue.

“No,” he told her. “Not tonight.” Silence. He was blushing! “Well, never actually. It’s not what I want,” he continued. He sucked in a deep, noisy breath.

Her eyes widened just a hair. Was he really such a clod? Moments passed, a repellent electrical tension in the air, slowly fizzling out. Now she had to make her grand exit. She gracefully shrugged her shoulders as she turned smoothly away from him. “No loss,” she said. She fixed her eyes on him for a moment. “Later, if you’re lucky,” she said haughtily as she sauntered away. She struggled to maintain her smooth, elegant stride— because the pebble was positively killing her foot!