Doors, Elevators, and Sex
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Love in the Third Degree.
I raced for the third elevator, the one most recently repaired in my office building, thinking about how I often have dreams of long hallways with several doors of opportunity open and waiting for me if I should choose to walk through. The elevator door closed before I could launch myself into a rather unprofessional dive for the opening, and I reminded myself that when one door closes another door opens and so I waited, panting and watching the clock.
Over the past few years, I’ve closed some doors and quadruple-deadbolted them. Not only do I have no intention of opening them again, but I’ve made damned sure that no one can open them from the other side.
Other times, I’ve closed doors and turned around and opened a window to crawl through. Some doors I’ve slammed shut and they’ve reopened, only for me to see that I needed to be more certain of the latch before closing them for good. Other doors, I’ve closed reluctantly, seeing that there was nothing on the other side…and then they’ve slowly creaked back open. Some are just revolving doors that never really close for long.
I’ve heard that Nature abhors a vacuum. So do my metaphors.
If closing a door creates a vacuum in my life—or someone else’s—then the pressure in the hallway pulls that door back open or opens another unexpectedly. So when one door closes, another—quite literally according to science—does indeed open. Not always the one we want. Sometimes better than what we wanted. Sometimes the door just won’t stay shut because it’s meant to be open.
Sometimes it takes working through issues and shadows alone in the hallway, feeling the sucking pressure of doors closing all around before we open the right one. Sometimes you have to be at a place where you’re living your own life of abundance before you can have everything you desire. Then again, I’m still power-tripping over my dominance play, aghast at the insights of what life is like psychologically from the traditional male point of view and suddenly understanding why so many guys I’ve known nail anything that moves without ever attaching a gentle emotion to the moment or the person. I have a lot more self-control than that, but still, just understanding the male mindset is a real gift. A disturbing gift but…still, LOL!
But back to doors opening and closing, the elevator door swished shut right in front of me and flaunted its ascent to the sixth floor while I waited—impatiently, as always. Funny how I can be so impatient when I’m being patient and waiting for the right things to align in my life for the next phase!
But I didn’t worry about the elevator door closing because I knew—knew—that another one would open. And it did a few minutes later, with much pushing of buttons from me.
As I stepped in an hit the button for the floor of my choice, a man ran across the lobby toward me. He was walking a little funny, like he had a crick in one hip. I held the elevator for him. Big mistake!
As soon as the door closed, I wanted it to open again. Desperately. The man absolutely reeked of his afternoon delight. Yep, that’s right. He smelled of sex. In a can’t-miss-it, omigods sort of way. The entire ride with him, I couldn’t wait for the door that was closed (different perspective on closed doors!) to open again. Finally it did and when it closed, the scent still lingered, so strongly that I could barely breathe.
I was thrilled when the door opened again a few seconds later, and I got off on a higher floor.