tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3133561172017075182023-11-15T10:24:40.732-05:00Song in My HeartDCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-85697360520929218042009-08-26T13:32:00.003-04:002009-08-26T13:56:00.321-04:00Hello.Shit.<br /><br />All she had to do was say, "Good bye". All I had to do was say, "Good luck with the move."<br /><br />Instead she said, "I have a lot of things I will have to throw away. Do you need any plates?" Instead I said, "Yeah, I could use some."<br /><br />Still, we're fine unless..."When do you get off work? Feel free to swing by whenever if you can get an excuse to get out of the office."<br /><br />Fuck.<br /><br />Too late.<br /><br />The trigger just clicked, the switch just flipped, the tumblers just fell into place.<br /><br />And now I'm in a dream state in the middle of the day. I might as well have had 3 bourbons. Everything's in slow motion.<br /><br />I don't NEED an excuse to leave work, I can at any time. The movie is already playing in my head. Crystal-clear HD visions. Flashes of scenes. Of the front door. Of boxes. Of T-shirts. Of beer. Of laughs. Of gorgeous hair and an incredible body. Of skin. Of sweat. Of breath.<br /><br />And all I have to do...is show up.<br /><br />The plan is set, it's all in motion, like watching a glass fall to the ground. Just out of reach. But you already know the outcome.<br /><br />Does anyone else experience triggers like this?DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-71151111558149699322009-05-03T16:17:00.003-04:002009-05-13T11:01:52.097-04:00Growing Up<em>"Does this mean we're starting over?"</em> And with one question, she perfectly matched this miserable, rain-soaked day.<br /><br />Yet inside, I had to smile. I had forgotten that question. I had forgotten the many times I've had to answer that question. I had forgotten all the names and faces who have asked me that question. The faces and names which were flooding back because of that question.<br /><br />It's one of those questions that is difficult for a man to answer. There's no true "right answer", we do like certainty. But there are definitely many, many wrong ones. We are certain of that. The faces and names remind me of that. <a href="http://aintnouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-will-survive.html">Scars well-earned </a>that now make me laugh.<br /><br /><em>"It's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">OK</span> if we do, I just want to know,"</em> snaps me back to the moment. I've learned enough to know to <em>NOT</em> search for the right answer. To <em>NOT</em> parrot what you've <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">heard</span> others say. To <em>NOT</em> say what you said when it all blew to hell because you searched for the right answer.<br /><br />I've learned enough to know you speak from whatever is inside, whatever you feel <em>RIGHT THEN</em>. And accept the thought it may not be the right answer. It may not be what she wants to hear. It may not be the certainty you both would like. But it is real. It is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">consistent</span> with what she <em>knows</em> is right<em>,</em> what she feels from you right then. And because it's <em>real</em>, it's right.<br /><br />I wished in the past to always be right. Instead, today, with the rain slowing to a drizzle, I only hope to be real.DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-7962081604646419672009-04-20T16:35:00.006-04:002009-05-13T10:47:05.672-04:00I Will SurviveWhen I was little I fell out of a tree and onto a glass Coke bottle. In one of my first physics lessons, I would learn that if one were to fall out of a tree onto, say, a glass Coke bottle, that said bottle would have the potential off breaking on impact. I also learned that if a broken bottle comes into rapid contact with, say, the leg of a young boy, then mayhem will ensue. That bottle left a good reminder on my leg. That is the first, of many, accidents I remember.<br /><br />Although, the best! would be the ER visit I was too small to remember. I have a knot two inches above my nose where I split my head open while learning to walk. Nope, don't recall a lick of it. But that had to be a fun day.<br /><br />I do remember having scabs on my elbows from about 6th grade to 10th, thanks to a love of skateboarding and dirt biking sans equipment. When you're barrelling down a hill, sometimes equipment doesn't help anyway. There where also wrist burns, head knocks, finger smashes (even lost a nail once, that was cool.)<br /><br />At an eye exam for the military, the optometrist asked,"So when did you break your nose?" "What? I've never broken my nose. My nose is broken?!" "Nope, don't worry about it." Huh?, oh yeah!, backyard boxing.<br /><br />Few years ago, I had a friend teach me how to make sushi. While wiping the counter with one hand and holding a surgically-sharp sushi knife in the other (FYI-don't EVER wipe the counter with one hand while holding a surgically-sharp sushi knife in the other. Actually, it's probably not wise to say "surgically-sharp sushi knife" repeatedly while holding a surgically-sharp sushi knife) I poked a hole almost through my hand by hitting the tip of the knife on my thumb and it sliced through me as if I were a beautiful piece of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_amberjack">hamachi</a>. Which I am.<br /><br />In fact, I've been hit by a car, struck by lightening, bitten by a black widow and came within a quarter-inch of severing an major artery. No joke. Then why, as I'm recounting these tales in my mind, am I smiling from ear to ear?<br /><br />I survived. I lived. I live. I am bigger and more badass than ALL of those things.<br /><br />And just as I smile at all of the events that have left there mark, literally, on my body, I smile at the marks left from dating as well. I'm not bitter that bottle cut me pretty damn good (I know too many who are though) instead, I laugh and think, "Hell, let's not do that again." But it didn't stop me from climbing trees, or learning new skills, or skateboarding, or bike-riding, or boxing, or trampolining!, or surfing, snowboarding, etc, etc., etc.<br /><br />There's too much fun, life, adventure and love to be found to do anything but be encouraged by the scars that didn't claim you. I even almost poked my eye out while flying a kite once! That was no picnic. Actually...Haha, it was. But who cares, anyone feel like climbing a tree?DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-42984570399863361422009-04-16T14:26:00.007-04:002009-04-17T15:31:23.073-04:00Shook Me All Nite LongTMI-Thursday? What the hell?<br /><br />Now that it's Spring, I reminisce about when I moved to DC in the Spring of '06. Moving from a small, vacation town in <a href="http://www.outerbanks.org/">OBX</a>, DC was quite a change. Huge buildings that blocked the big sky I was used to, stores packed with people flying in every direction and many, many people jogging. I loved the activity. I loved the action. But I missed what I once called "home."<br /><br />Then a curious thing started to happen. (This would be your chance to turn away. No seriously. OK, but don't say I didn't warn you.) I started having obscenely-filthy sex dreams. You can't even find stuff like that online! Anywhere! I didn't wake up excited, I woke up mortified/embarrassed/horrified and it stayed with me throughout the day.<br /><br />Stuff was going on that I'm sure is illegal in every state and most countries, save The Netherlands and parts of Scandinavia (love ya!) If envisioned situations had actually occurred, I'd be phoning in this blog to someone <em>outside</em> the Federal Penitentiary System. (There is only one scene left in the dark recesses of my mind and that's too disturbing to put out in the universe via blogspot.com. Trust me.)<br /><br />(Well, I thought I! was troubled until I read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Secret-Garden-Nancy-Friday/dp/1416567011/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1239993974&sr=1-1">this book</a>. I had to put it down before page 20. Wow. Now, very little of what I dream is. My sisters, you win hands! down!)<br /><br /><div>The encounters were startling but the fact I rarely have such dreams made the effect exponentially troublesome. My mind raced all day to find a reason for these new, now-almost-nightly visions. I took a second look at the buildings, the stores, the people, the joggers. Then something clicked.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>DC's not OBX. People don't exercise cause it's fun. They exercise to work off stress. They jog so that tomorrow's log jam doesn't seem as miserable as today's. It's just a way to work off all that stress. Which I gathered I was under as well with a new job, new apartment, new city, new routines, etc. And though all those people were flying all over the stores, they did so in their individual bubbles. No one talking, no one interacting, no one venturing into anyone else's bubble. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>A week of thinking and I distilled what I was seeing. It all came down to two points: Comfort and Connection. That's what I! needed. And the more I looked around, the more I saw people looking and longing for the same thing. I still see it daily.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>Now, why the dreams took the form they did, I'm not wholly sure. They rocked the boat hard enough to get my mind thinking and that thinking has been with me from then on. For that I'm thankful. And the incredibly graphic, dirty, beyond-racy dreams stopped when I made my conclusion. It was a longing for comfort and connection. Just like everyone else's.</div><div></div>DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-34617259515740497532009-04-15T16:32:00.021-04:002009-05-13T10:51:09.074-04:00Tainted LoveWhat's not to like about a song? They're given to being short. They have a beginning and an end. And no "To-be-continued"s. Just a few short verses, a little conflict, maybe a message and, hopefully, an interesting close. Then a slight pause before another songs comes. There's a rhythm involved, not just to each song, but in between songs. There's a rhythm and a link through the whole collection.<br /><br />I used to be one who, if the song...(you know we're talking about more than songs at this point, right?)...if the song wasn't my style, wasn't really interesting, wasn't in harmony with my emotions or thoughts, then it was discarded. And quickly. Not every song ends well, either. I'd avoid the ones I knew that wouldn't. And I never thought twice about it.<br /><br />My rhythm and approach may have changed in between songs.<br /><br />I'm currently seeing someone. And it's going to end badly. And it's going to be my fault. But right now, I'm willing to listen intently until the very end. Right now, I am simply enjoying the music. I'm <strong><em>learning</em></strong> to enjoy the music in spite of the ending, in spite of the message, in spite of the conflict, in spite of myself.<br /><br />Too often I've <a href="http://aintnouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/nothing-short-of-thankful.html">ended it early</a>, <a href="http://aintnouse.blogspot.com/2009/02/suppose-shes-miss-understood.html">tested it on purpose</a>, <a href="http://aintnouse.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-i-want.html">never started to begin with</a>, or <a href="http://aintnouse.blogspot.com/2008/12/darkness-on-edge-of-town.html">enjoyed only the few first moments</a> with <a href="http://aintnouse.blogspot.com/2008/12/drift-away.html">no future to be had beyond that night</a>.<br /><br />But this will be my fault completely and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Contempt#Facial_expressions">Contempt</a> will be the reason. I have <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Ekman">this man</a>, and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Blink-Power-Thinking-Without/dp/0316010669/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1239989182&sr=8-1">this book</a>, to thank for at least knowing that. When one partner looks down on the other, no matter the reason or cause, it is <em>THE</em> predictor of a relationship's success.<br /><br />I don't like that I do this. I don't like that the attitude emerges on inconsequential issues at inappropriate times. There's no animosity or vitriol with it. And there are so many things I do enjoy about her, I don't like that a knee-jerk reaction in minor moments is to think, <em>"WTF?!"</em> It happens too often to be overlooked for long. We both deserve better than that.<br /><br />To be honest, I'd much rather write about sexy encounters or an exciting rendezvous. The unexpected beauty and wonderful tension are in those unsure moments where success and failure have an equal chance. But the scale has tipped, success on the losing end.<br /><br />The only kind consolation is that this singer should be heard, her song should be sung. She is beautiful in the light. And I will listen as long as she sings until the very end.DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-19128149039513582902009-04-09T15:08:00.009-04:002009-04-17T13:04:12.136-04:00Nothing Short of Thankful<em>"Hey, you guys are making it pretty back here!"</em><br /><br />The back porch never looked so good, <em>"Have fun!"</em> I had a full day planned and perhaps my invitation to the party was "lost in the mail." That I doubt. I wasn't invited to whatever party it was because of history, and not the classroom kind.<br /><br />My neighbor is really cute. She is also, perhaps, the most socially-aware person I have ever met. She is so good, she can move you were you don't want to go and you will have a great time doing it. I've seen her do it many times. And, thanks to the extremely thin walls in my turn-of-the-century, 1970's-renovated apartment building, I've heard her quite often as well.<br /><br />No judgements about what one does to find love, I certainly don't want that spotlight on me either. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victor_Hugo"><em>"A woman who gives her heart sincerely retains her virtue."</em></a> I am fully willing to believe that sentiment. And I admired her ability to apply it so repeatedly and so quickly.<br /><br />That sentiment and admiration may have been just the opening needed when her gaze met mine. A few more chance meetings (which I was later told weren't chance AT ALL!) and the dance had begun. A few planned outings more and the dance progressed. Up to a point. That point should have been before the physical relations started. Lesson learned. It was, however, after.<br /><br />We parted ways on good terms I thought. I had no resentment and was told the same from her. That will be the last time I believe that line. But I bounded up the stairs to my place glad for the interaction, if I hadn't would <a href="http://aintnouse.blogspot.com/2009/01/trouble-again.html">this</a> exist? I did enjoy her personality, yet thankful it didn't go further. (Reasons, I'm sorry, I can't disclose on the off chance anonymity eludes me one day.) But reasons that also made me nothing short of thankful.<br /><br />It didn't take long to learn that chance meetings were painfully awkward, planned meetings a thing of the past. I've said maybe a paragraph worth of words in the past year, her maybe a sentence worth. <em>"Hey! You guys are making it pretty back here!"</em> was the most she's heard me say in close to a year. I don't talk to walls either. But they were beautiful flowers. I would have enjoyed them if they were mine.<br /><br />I found out a week later, the flowers and the girl were getting ready for their wedding day. I'm not going to check for that lost invitation though sincere good wishes exist. I couldn't be more pleased for her. Or more thankful.DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-74681594518078434332009-04-01T15:08:00.014-04:002009-04-09T15:00:29.924-04:00When Will I Be LovedHow I've neglected you! I know how you feel. I've cheated you of a lot of fun and adventure and who doesn't need just a little more fun and adventure in their lives. So I'm sorry to not have kept you in the loop, but that loop was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">loopin</span>' a lot.<br /><br />You know about <a href="http://aintnouse.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-i-want.html">my return visit to Spain</a>. And no, I did not see her. I coyly asked, but didn't get an update. Forever a memory and a fond one at that, they should all be so lucky. I was also very busy wandering the town and hanging out with my six-month-old twin niece and nephew. I could not get enough of them.<br /><br />When I left, it was all I could do to hold back my tears. But <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puerto_del_Suspiro_del_Moro">I'm not the first to do that</a>. Doubt I'll be the last. That famous quote did ring in my ears. How a town can create such a pull in a heart is amazing to me. Now that I have a family branch there, my visits, and tears, will hopefully be repeated many times.<br /><br />You may not know of my 23-hour stop off in Amsterdam. I was up for 36 hours straight and didn't mind one bit. It's a beautiful city with a very young vibe. I did go see <a href="http://www.amsterdam.info/red-light-district/">the Red-Light District</a>, at my sister's insistence. More sad than interesting and not worth noting except that there were at least twice as many women tourists wandering around as there were men. Think of that what you will. Aside from that and wandering the town myself, I made great sport of making the hotel <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">concierge</span> blush. If you've never seen <a href="http://midlifemadness.files.wordpress.com/2007/07/07-amsterdam-dutch-girl-1.jpg">the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">complexion</span> of a Dutch girl</a>, it's given to blush very easily. And I just couldn't resist.<br /><br />You may also not know of my first western ski trip to <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Telluride&oe=UTF-8&sourceid=ie7&ie=UTF8&split=0&gl=us&ei=TzneSdrfBtLgtgeIwZWYAQ&ll=37.931065,-107.813816&spn=0.031886,0.054932&t=h&z=14"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Telluride</span></a>. About 60 degrees when we landed with too much brown on the mountains. But two massive storms later, one large enough to scare the city folks of Denver, and the mountain conditions were epic. Over twenty inches of snow in 3 days may have spoiled me for all time. So did <a href="http://www.toski.com/bakedintel/index.html">Baked in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Telluride</span></a> with the best donuts I've ever had and a little taco stand with $2 soft tacos, also the best I've ever had.<br /><br />Two weeks in two months that have left me wondering about my wanderings and exactly why I am where I am. A few changes will be in the works because of it. Maybe a relocation?<br /><br />And the last bit of news you may not be aware of is there was someone anxiously waiting for me when I returned. But I'm sure you'll hear more about that later.DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-89316474000822213642009-02-18T15:16:00.005-05:002009-05-13T11:02:46.277-04:00Not Tonite<em>"You're not getting me alone tonite."</em> And I meant it as I pulled her in.<br /><em>"We rode together so I HAVE to go back to your place for my car,"</em> her whispers sounded logical.<br /><em>"In that case, what I'll do is drive by your car, and slow down some, and you can just jump..."</em> I shove her an arm's length away with a laugh, <em>"...because you're not getting me alone tonite. And don't forget to roll when you hit, it'll help the fall."</em> I didn't mean that.<br /><em>"But you have to let me in, I have a present for you."</em> I pulled her back in, <em>"Damn, you're good."</em> Well played, sister.<br /><br />Things are spinning, anxiety is high and my nerves are really raw this week. I had taken a double dose of <a href="http://www.fukitol.com/">Fukitol</a>. She wasn't getting me alone because she had already set a "rule" for number of dates before we could sleep together. (I understand a girl's point of view on this, but taking it off the table doesn't sit well with me. Something to do with withholding intimacy.) So yeah, didn't like that. Bad kitty. But drinking <a href="http://www.chimay.com/en/intro_216.php">belgians</a> at the end of a hard day with her there made my day through the ringer feel like weeks ago. That's good beer! And good company.<br /><br /><em>"You need to be careful with me,"</em> I whispered in her ear, <em>"You could have me for a song tonite, and I can't have that. So you need to be very careful."</em> I was playing the part of the wounded warrior because I felt it. Not because it was a ploy or a routine but because it was real. I can't take any more shit today, don't fucking toy with me.<br /><br /><em>"Are you using 'reverse psychology' on me?"</em> she wondered outloud, squeezing my hand and smiling.<br /><em>"No. I'm not."</em> And I wasn't. I wasn't playing. I wasn't smiling. She would later say this was the reason she had to have me, the vunerability was a "major turn-on".<br /><br />As we walked to the car with me still protesting that she wasn't getting me alone (I was! kidding now) , I pulled her into doorways for 5-second make-outs, lost count on how many. Then let her get back to her story about early morning meetings or a car dealership or something that was secondary to the subcontext of the moment.<br /><br />Back at my place I told her, <em>"Don't get comfy. Where's my present?"</em> Her coat came off and she got comfy. A bottle of rum was given while her shoes came off, <em>"Hope you like it."</em> A hug of thanks exchanged. And we both got comfy. Then everything else came off.DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-20248752547143402642009-02-14T13:44:00.007-05:002009-03-06T13:11:27.966-05:00Suppose She's Miss UnderstoodSuppose I met someone recently. Suppose that girl was pretty. damn! cool. Suppose her and her friends acted like they owned the place. Suppose when I first saw her I knew we would meet and hang, at least a little. (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">C'mon</span>! I always suppose <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serendipity">Serendipity</a> did it's part by having us in the same place at the same time, it's <em>my</em> job after that.) Suppose, at that place and time, she had a little buzz. And a little attitude. Suppose I like a little attitude. Just suppose I like a little challenge.<br /><br />And maybe amongst great stories of past conquests, she provided only bits of info and no contact, save, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">OMG WTF BBQ</span>, a <a href="http://noiwillnoteatyourass.blogspot.com/">blog</a>. That, I think, would be enough to find her. FYI, don't suppose that!<br /><br />And maybe, Serendipity, with a little nudge, went to work again. Suppose I got to hang with her sans friends. Suppose when she spoke about life, the city, her passions, her eyes shined. Suppose <em>she</em> shined.<br /><br />Suppose commonalities were found. Suppose a good part of the initial attitude melted like the ice in her glass. Suppose great charm emerged. And whatever walls there are, came down just a little. Just enough to show a softer heart and honest <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">enthusiasm</span> about life and family. Suppose a moment was shared. Suppose two. Suppose I understood a little more than attitude.<br /><br />If all of that were to take place, I suppose I might like to see her again. I suppose, when inspiration hit, I might like to write about it. Good thing this didn't happen then. Because if it did, and we did, and I did, and she did, then <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">there'd</span> be a chance, just a sliver of a chance really, maybe too small to mention. Maybe too small to wonder. But maybe, perhaps...just supposing. Then there's a chance she could be reading this. right now. I suppose me writing this may be unwise. I suppose I'll let someone else decide.<br /><br />UPDATE: Haha, and it looks like <a href="http://noiwillnoteatyourass.blogspot.com/2009/02/unwise.html">she did</a>. There's no way I am going to feel bad about this. She was/is a great girl. I had a great time. I'll regret this post because of the needlessly lost opportunity, but I won't apologize for it or for expressing myself while being inspired. I've clamped that down in the past and it only leads to worse things. However, she will be the last to know I blog. I sincerely wish her well, she is a fun, creative person. Then again, so am I.DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-25050255314157408012009-02-11T16:19:00.006-05:002009-04-17T13:15:03.261-04:00What I WantI am returning to Spain within the week, only for a visit. I lived there for a year many years ago. There are many sights I am longing to see: <a href="http://images.google.com/images?um=1&hl=en&rls=com.microsoft%3Aen-us%3AIE-SearchBox&q=Fountains+of+Granada%2C+Spain">The fountains </a>. <a href="http://www.ianandwendy.com/OtherTrips/SpainPortugalMorocco/Spain/Granada/GranadaAlbaicin.JPG">The cobblestone streets</a>. The house in my neighborhood that is older than America. <a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2160/1509127039_bb6e5d2943.jpg?v=0">The guitar shop </a>where I bought my handmade flamenco guitar. <a href="http://www.greatbuildings.com/buildings/The_Alhambra.html">The Alhambra</a>. <a href="http://www.andalucia.com/cities/granada.htm">Granada</a> is a second hometown to me. It always will be. But there is one sight I long to see and hope very much that I don't. Her name is Ana.<br /><br />I know "love at first sight" exists, because Ana exists. I know time can be frozen, because it was. And I was there. I didn't understand the first words she said because she had the most unusual and amazing eyes, brown and green like marbles, and I was lost in them. But her words were sadly prophetic, "Es <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">una</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">lástima</span> yo no <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">hablo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">inglés</span>." And it's a shame I don't speak Spanish. To adore someone and never be able to say it is awful. To never be able to say it because of language is worse.<br /><br />Tossing and turning out of that frustration one night, I awoke and demanded one question of myself, "What do you want?!" My answer took less than 20 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">mins</span> to write. And it has proven to be a time capsule that brings be back every time to the scenes and my emotions in them. But that's also where they should stay. I adore her then. I don't know her now.<br /><br />I wanted to review this memory before all the others come flooding back. Ana never got to see this. Never got to hear it. Never got to read it. Never got to know it. Like you do.<br /><br /><p>I'm writing this, selfishly, for me. But I also hope it serves notice that you never, ever, know when you may have inspired good things in someone<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">'s</span> heart. You may have done it today.</p><em><strong>"What I Want"</strong></em><br /><em>What I want is to see you again</em><br /><em>with the words and their meaning in place.</em><br /><em>The shine of your hair, the light in your eyes</em><br /><em>and a smile on your beautiful face.<br /></em><br /><em>To see you move and talk with friends</em><br /><em>some you have barely just met.</em><br /><em>To watch your hands, your mouth, your lips</em><br /><em>as you light your last <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">cigarette</span>.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>To have you look at me through a dim-lit room</em><br /><em>from across a smoke-filled bar.</em><br /><em>To say with that look, not with my words,</em><br /><em>how strong and sensual you are.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>To smell your perfume. To touch your hand.</em><br /><em>The skin, I imagine, is soft.</em><br /><em>To hear your heart. To feel your breath.</em><br /><em>These are the thoughts in which I get lost.</em>DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-85772245034022951152009-02-10T12:00:00.013-05:002009-02-12T10:12:21.022-05:00Salsa Like You LiveIn an effort to have fun, learn new skills, and, yes, meet new people, I've decided to start <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salsa_dancing">Salsa Dancing</a>. Cliched? Maybe. But have you done it, yet?<br /><br />I get there and the instructor is already shouting commands to the 20 "couples" who are there. It's more like random guys and random girls with a couple or two sprinkled in. The basic moves are actually not that tough to get: Count to 8, move your feet, feel the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">rhythm</span> and it's very basic. I used to do a lot of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/West_Coast_Swing">West Coast Swing </a>so I'm comfy learning on the fly and very comfy with the inherent sexiness Salsa has, as well. My fellow male counterparts aren't so comfy. And the females don't look that way, either.<br /><br />As the instructor shows the guys their parts, we <em>shuffle</em>, we <em>try</em> to shuffle, <em>most</em> try to shuffle to the beat. Once we've managed "well enough", the instructor moves to the girls. And as the girls shuffle, try, or manage a great thought hit me. Here is where I am reminded why dancing is so great: Dancing is a social exercise. Dancing is a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">microcosm</span> of dating. And of love. And of life.<br /><br />Just like dancing, we each have to learn our parts. Go outside of the basic <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">rhythm</span> and what you do becomes awkward and frustrating for you and the one you are with. I don't like dancing off <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">rhythm</span>. Don't know anyone who does. Know too many who <em>shuffle</em>, who <em>try</em>, who <em>manage</em> all the same.<br /><br />After the girls' instructions, we come together as mismatched, momentary couples to try to salsa. We didn't do too well. In <em>MY</em> defense, I don't think my partner understood English. No judgements. I just had to show her how it's done instead. Communication goes beyond language.<br /><br />Then the instructor shouted priceless instructions, <em>"If your partner is not moving with you, <strong>STOP!</strong> "</em> I'm not just taking Salsa at this point. <em>"If your partner is looking at the floor and not you, <strong>STOP!</strong> If you and your partner are not moving to the beat of the music, <strong>STOP!"</strong></em> And the just-as-important, "Now, let's try that again." So we did. And we improved.<br /><br /><em>"Guys rotate to your left!"</em> And now I have a new partner. Who's just a little different than the last. Who is doing the same basic steps. And it's becoming easier as we go.<br /><br />But I already know a secret my fellow boys may not: The boy leads. When the boy leads, the girl follows. It's not so easy to do in either case. And it's obvious to see on the faces of every couple there.<br /><br />I think the reason for this is it's very counter to what culture tells us these days: "Guys, be very considerate to everyone. Be respectful and don't impede the wishes of others. Don't be overly physical or force your will.", "Ladies, don't let someone tell you what to do. Don't supplicate in any situation. Stand up and speak your mind, but not too much."<br /><br />I believe if a something exists then it's fulfilling a need. Same goes with these thoughts. But dancing, or rather, dancing well, doesn't really give a shit. The principles of dancing could very well be accused of being sexist. And yet, they don't work very well otherwise. The instructor is reminding us of that every chance he can, <em>"If you mess up, it's <strong>THE GUY'S FAULT</strong>!"</em> Doesn't quite <em>sound</em> "equal". But you already know I love this idea, don't you?<br /><br />As we continue to dance and rotate and dance again, it's obvious those couples having trouble are the couples whose GUY'S are having trouble. Trouble leading. Trouble moving himself. Trouble moving his partner. Maybe trouble understanding. And another thought hits: You dance like you live.DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-80858472755886843792009-02-04T12:35:00.012-05:002009-02-10T10:03:47.635-05:00Dating Philosophy: I want GravityPerhaps it's a good time to give an accounting of my dating philosophy. Why now? Well, it hasn't been recorded yet and last nite I had a really good date. If you plan to follow any future posts, knowing my approach might ease some confusion. Might. Because frankly, dear reader, (and I might lose you on this) I had a really good date which means...I need to date someone else.<br /><br />That's right. Some. One. Else.<br /><br />Alright, I can already see I'm moving too fast. Unless you have come to a similar realization (and I know one or two of you have) this is a brand new world. Welcome.<br /><br />I didn't start out with this mentality. Like any <strike>idiotic fool</strike> romantic young lad, I fully believed the mantra: <em><strong>If you are a good person...and are nice to people...then eventually...you will find...the Right...someone</strong></em>. (I bet you could recite that along with me.)<br /><br />Nothing could be further from the truth. There are so many holes in that boat, it hit rock bottom before the line was finished. Unless you still believe that, unless you still live that. In which case, it still hit rock bottom and you didn't even know it. And you need to keep reading.<br /><br />When I said I needed to date someone else, I bet you made an assumption. I bet you thought I would end it and move on to someone else. I bet you assumed I would NOT see Ms. GD again. Nothing could be further from the truth. Which would mean...(c'mon, you can do it)...I would be dating...2?...people. Yeah! See that wasn't so hard. And actually, the answer is No. Most likely at least 2, but I don't want you spinning too much right now.<br /><br /><strong>Dear Reader: <em>"But if you like her, why would you date someone else?"</em><br /></strong><br />(Haha, you 're adorable! do you know that?) The reason is BECAUSE I <em>could</em> like her is why others should be added to the mix. You see when most people find someone whose company they enjoy they welcome that person in fully. They do more and more with them. They become comfortable. Their social skills start to rust. (Skills that are needed to keep that someone happy, btw.) The two become intertwined, incorporated, and fixated.<br /><br />Not at first, but within a couple months/weeks/days, depending, life starts to revolve around that someone. For both people. Identities get mixed, friends get merged, Saturday nite is assumed ("What do you want to do?" "I don't know what do YOU want to do?") and toiletries men are not very familiar with start to appear in the bathroom OUT OF NOWHERE. (yes, that was a Seinfeld reference.)<br /><br />From a certain perspective, this is romantic. I can see that. But there's no need to be so completely <strike>idiotic</strike> romantic about it. Here is <strong>A MAJOR POINT</strong>: <strong>I AM NOT HER SAVIOR.</strong> I am NOT her knight-in-shining-armour. I am not her tour director. I am NOT her moral compass, conscience or all-knowing spiritual guide.<br /><br />I love it when a woman has her own life and is willing to share a part of that with me. I love that she has girl's nite out, don't even mind if she flirts with the bartender while she's there. I love that sewing/painting/grad school is on Wed nite which means we can't have dinner then but maybe I could see her after, she'll have to let me know. I love that she has a life! I love that she has HER life. And I love being included if only sometimes. (side note: being unavailable can amp attraction. She usually knows that, too. dammit!) So if I become her life, what exactly is she sharing? And what exactly am I being asked to fulfill?<br /><br />When this takes place, and it too often does, date nite becomes ONE nite. If that. Coming over becomes lounging on the couch watching bad TV and eating worse food or vice versa, whatever. That, out of habit, is something I don't like. I'm not her savior, I'm her <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/companion[1]">companion</a>. (Love the poignancy of Def #4.) This is also why I don't let her do my laundry, clean my place, rearrange the furniture, reorganize the frig, redecorate the bath, etc. I'm not her savior, she's not my maid.<br /><br />If I don't want her doing that to me, why would I do that to her? Why would I RISK doing that to her? Why would I risk HER identity, MY identity, HER life, MY life for a Hollywoodland <strike>empty-promise</strike> romantic payoff? Remember we're just DATING. Should it progress, that changes a-few things a-little, but I'd still want a woman who's got something other than me in her life. I imagine, she wants a man who has something other than her own life to offer back to her.<br /><br />So, that's just point #1.<br /><br /><em><strong>OK...so, why don't I just watch how much time we spend together?</strong><br /></em><br />Good question! Maybe. Because if I like spending time with her, I'm going to want to spend A LOT OF TIME with her. If I'm spending time with her, she's "wowed" me in some way. She's shown she is very different than anyone else. I'm going to want to do everything with her. In every way. I'm going to want to eat her up!<br /><br />So now we're talking <em>Intellectual vs. Emotional.</em> You can think about it all day, but what you <em>feel </em>is going to win. Your intellect will kick in to justify those feelings. Emotion wins. Above I said most people will "welcome that person in fully". Guess what? <em><strong>I'M LIKE MOST PEOPLE!</strong></em> I'm not a unique snowflake, I'm a man. A guy. And any guy who digs a girl is going to want to be with that girl. And he will run through a brick wall to do it!<br /><br />So now, I have an issue. I can either change my thinking or change my emotions. How well do you think that will work? You haven't completely disagreed with my points so far, have you? See what I mean.<br /><br />Hmm, if only there was a third option. One that would equal my now one-sided focus. You see it now? Yep. Date another someone. And let me stop right here and make another <strong>MAJOR POINT: THE SECOND GIRL IS NOT "SECOND" IN ANY WAY</strong>.<br /><br />I may have met her after, but that isn't to say she is any less beautiful, talented, inspiring or that my emotional reaction is any less than a genuine "Wow!" If she hasn't "wowed" me in some way, I'm not spending time with her. If there is a harsh approach here, it's THIS! I'm not going to spend time with someone in a romantic way if she has not turned my head and peaked my interest. I'd hope in this I'm not unlike every single person in the world. (though, unfortunately, I know that's not true.)<br /><br />So now, we simply adhere to an old adage, the one with all the eggs in the basket. And even though I'm writing this from a male perspective, I think flipping the script and having a woman do this is <a href="http://www.blogher.com/node/11235">an equally good idea</a>. Keep that in mind. Having options allows for greater freedom and a greater appreciation of those options.<br /><br />This is beneficial for a lot of ways. I now am NOT completely focused on one person, I can't be. I'm not always wondering what she's doing, what she wore today, how wonderful her perfume smells on the shoulder of my sweater (ok, maybe that one) I can't be so singularly focused. If I am, what happens? But I, literally, can NOT be. I have two people who I adore. I'm wondering about them both, which means I'm not fixated on EITHER.<br /><br />And there is nothing like a boy-girl relationship to show you what you are lacking. If you care about yourself and use this as an opportunity to improve, you will have more than enough to work on. Social skills will be finely honed. Ability to keep and hold a connection will be of huge importance. And focusing on the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Power-Now-Guide-Spiritual-Enlightenment/dp/1577314808/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1234277509&sr=8-1">power of now </a>will be nothing less than life altering.<br /><br />DR: <strong><em>"Oh, you sum-bitch, 2-timing, lying, good-for-nothin'..."</em></strong> Hold on, there Missy.<br /><br />You just made another assumption. And maybe you shouldn't have. That assumption was...that I'm lying...that I'm cheating. That one girl doesn't know about the other. That isn't, or shouldn't, be the case. And I NEVER, EVER advocate lying, cheating, sleeping with someone if the other person you are seeing does NOT know that is a possibility!<br /><br />Obviously, any boy OR GIRL will be careful in the DETAILS they divulge if there is sexual contact. That's what blogging's for! (I soo hope you know that's what the kids call "a joke".) No, even that intimate act shouldn't be withheld. If you're mature enough to handle it, you should be mature enough to share. And mature enough to be "protected" for everyone's sake.<br /><br />OK, inventory check, what do we have? An amazing girl I really like. And a different and equally amazing girl I really like. Both of whom know this and both of whom know I am social and am dating. That's it.<br /><br />If something changes in the equation, everything changes. If the relationship progresses and needs to go deeper, then a decision has to be made. But nothing in life is set forever. Nothing but change is permanent.<br /><br />Remember the original issue: I know a girl I <em>could</em> like and I don't want to ruin that by becoming less social, less flexible, less open. I'd like for us to have fun. I'd like to keep that fun light-hearted. I'd like to keep that time as something we look forward to, not something that is a given. Not something that has no tension, pull or passion. I want Gravity. And I also want to fly.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span>DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-12645630677523931912009-01-19T13:50:00.003-05:002009-01-25T20:33:19.057-05:00Trouble AgainHere comes trouble again with porceline skin<br />And I melt with her half-crooked grin.<br />Though that I try to be the nice guy,<br />All I can think of is sin.<br />My heart will begin, my head starts to spin<br />and I know only part of me wins.<br /><br />Here comes trouble once more beside my front door<br />Leather boots, just too hard to ignore.<br />I know I should run, but she laughs like it's fun<br />And my feet, they are nailed to the floor.<br />I know what's in store, I've been here before.<br />She'll leave when I'm begging for more.<br /><br />Here comes trouble I see with her arms around me<br />I'm too caged now to ever be free.<br />"Please understand, I am only a man.<br />Oh, dear trouble won't you let me be?"<br />Ignoring my plea, she whispers to me,<br />"Darlin' won't you come with me?"<br /><br />Here comes trouble and shame. I know them by name.<br />And I'm guilty of fanning the flame.<br />Chilly morning after burning yearning.<br />Still I wonder now who is to blame.<br />This wasn't my aim, but I'm caught in a game<br />Where the ending is always the same.<br /><br />There goes trouble again with porcelain skin<br />I still melt with her half-crooked grin.DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-67482278271584152202008-12-28T22:05:00.012-05:002009-02-10T10:15:35.903-05:00How I Can Just Kill a ManEvery year, I choose a word and do my best to add the many aspects and perspectives contained in it. This year's word is <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/Fierce">"Fierce."</a><br /><br />I am reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wild-Heart-Discovering-Secret-Mans/dp/0785287965/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1230852082&sr=8-1">this book</a>, it was an x-mas gift. This line stopped me in my tracks and echoed for the next few days: "Like it or not, there is something fierce in the heart of every man." And there SHOULD be!<br /><br />Looking at men, especially in the city, I don't often see it. Yelling at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">cabbies</span></span>, although fun, doesn't count. Being <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pissy</span></span> with a waiter, doesn't count. Pointing fingers out of daily frustrations, doesn't count. Fierce is all together different than these.<br /><br />Even at our earliest, something fierce in the heart can be seen. I have a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">nephew</span> who is 10 months old. He has been a near angel. Yet the other day, he showed a bit of what is in that little heart of his. While standing atop a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">conquered</span> stair, he growled. He didn't whine, he didn't cry, he didn't scream. He <em>growled. </em>Like victors do. Like warriors do. Like MEN do. He may be adorable doing it, but that doesn't negate he is already fighting to one day be a man.<br /><br />It's a trait that has served man well for centuries. He's explored because of it. He's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">conquered</span> because of it. He's changed his world because of it. We would not be where we are <em>without</em> it.<br /><br />I've been <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">contemplating</span> this topic for the past couple months. There <em>is</em> something fierce in the heart of every man. When it is ignored, everyone pays the price. I am saddened for my sisters in the city who often complain about finding a "real" man. I'm mildly frustrated at the boys in the city when I see opportunities to step up are discarded as a matter of habit or lack of understanding.<br /><br />When that something fierce is acknowledged, when that force of will is displayed, society opens doors. Doors that most don't believe exist, let alone can be opened by counter-intuitive means. As one who has been on both sides, I can confidently <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">attest</span> there is a HUGE difference in his life when a man chooses to live as a powerful man.<br /><br />Many men I meet and friends I know don't want to offend anyone or be offended by anyone. They are putting a lot of effort into making no waves, content on showing up and hoping "something" will happen. Showing up at work and hoping a raise or advancement will come. Showing up at a bar or club and hoping they meet someone. Every month or so, showing up on a date and hoping something happens. Sure, one does have to show up, it's the hoping instead of determined effort that disappoints me.<br /><br />There is a disconnect between men and society and men and themselves, for that matter. You don't have to dig deep to see the appeal of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fight_Club#Tyler_Durden">Tyler <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Durden</span></span> </a>or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Don_Draper">Don Draper</a>. My approach changed when I came to understand I'm NOT as nice as I would like, or would like you, to believe. There is something fierce in my heart. It is there to help me protect and provide for those around me, those in my life, and those I love.<br /><br />After many years of trying to be "the nice guy" it's about time that label is dropped and a new one is claimed. It's about time I stop running from the truth that has always been there. It's about time to turn, to face, to look in the eyes of all those things that deny what has been there from the earliest. Like it or not, there is something fierce in the heart of every man. Like it or not, there is something fierce in MY heart.DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-54219403717277116612008-12-22T02:25:00.011-05:002009-01-18T18:37:50.445-05:00Darkness on the Edge of Town"I'm going to take this off," I whisper to her. She pauses in silence, then agrees in quiet surrender, "ok." If my mind were to wander, I would think of all the reasons this is not right: <a href="http://aintnouse.blogspot.com/2008/12/drift-away.html">Her friend I was with too recently</a>, the people at work and the potential damage to us both, the age difference alone is startling!<br /><br />But she is here because she wants to be. And because I want her to be. I kiss her and hope she can feel all I am thinking about her. She is beautiful, she is kind, she is warm, she is thrilling, she is soft. And she is now nude. She kisses back as if it were an echo. Then laughs softly. She is nude, but she is not naked. No one wants to be naked.<br /><br />A friend recently called me out on this. I often explain my ideas, thoughts, experiences and encouragements and think I am revealing a great deal about myself. Hell, I even blog! But I am never naked. With anyone.<br /><br />As I type, she is in my bed. Asleep and warm. I can't sleep. I'm in the dark. On a couch in front of a screen wondering how such an enjoyable, intimate exercise isn't able to touch everywhere. Maybe it shouldn't. Maybe it takes time. Maybe we have to <em>both</em> want more. Maybe I am what I am. Maybe time <em>will</em> tell. Maybe <em>this</em> time will tell.<br /><br />All I know is, right now, I feel far more naked than I did tonight.DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-16032596311229528882008-12-13T19:21:00.009-05:002009-02-10T10:20:06.140-05:00Drift Away"You know, I usually don't pick up 'strangers' at 3am," I said.<br /><br />She knew I was full of shit from a nite of teasing, "Har, har. Technically we're not 'strangers' since we've been drinking together all nite." Now that's what I like to hear, "Hop in."<br /><br />By this point, all the dancing was done. She knew why I stopped, I knew why she got in. We're both on auto-pilot. And it feels unbelievably good.<br /><br />The nite started with me at work in the restaurant. When dinner is done, the music goes up and the lites go down. That's when the fun begins and the serious good-time folks come out. Even among them, she stood out. Ivory-soap skin, bright blue eyes, little frame; you'd think she was a just a pretty girl-next-door type. Except for the look in those bright blue eyes. That look betrayed her intentions and gave me mine.<br /><br />Blue Eyes is the friend of a super-cute coworker of mine with the same description. But I look like hell, 16-hr days don't agree with me. Fatigue, and whiskey, lowers inhibitions and kills the bug up my @ss. My hand on her soft, warm hip helps the other 16 hours to drift away.<br /><br />Restaurants can be so incestuous and Coworker is new, but easily fits in. She's got her eye on a male coworker who is clueless. I'm not. Blue Eyes is not and she's got a plan. "Has he kissed her yet?" she asks me. "How should I know? Who the hell are you again?" She continues, "He NEEDS to kiss her."<br /><br />Seeing Blue Eyes is more concerned with her friend's success than her own, I decide to help it along a little. I wait for the right time and pull Clueless aside to share BE's thoughts on the matter. "Really?!" he asked, he wasn't sure, but he got the picture. And I got bonus points only BE could see.<br /><br />Fast forward a couple venues, Blue Eyes and I are getting comfy with the ebb and flow. I have to make the rounds and so I leave to work the room. But I make sure to check back on her fun. This also completely blows out any boys who are hoping she'll like them.<br /><br />I know Blue Eyes is out to have a fun nite and she is, go-on girl. I make my way around the room, yet for some reason it feels like I'm setting up the entire room for what I'm sure will happen later. I talk to a couple friends, bartender, security, dude with the bad-ass jacket, cute girl from India, all's well. And FINALLY Clueless has kissed Coworker. And they haven't stopped in 20mins.<br /><br />Hmm, it looks like Blue Eyes is exchanging numbers with some guy. No biggie. Did you happen to catch the look in her eye, kid? You've been talking for 15 mins and she wanted a kiss in 2. I kinda feel bad for him. And her! because I already know how that's going to go down. But I was more curious to see what other guys COULD do and WOULD do with her. I felt like a teacher watching a student fuck up a project. At any time, I can step in and finish what you're flailing away trying to do.<br /><br />I get a text to go next door. Deal. And I'm gone. Coworker and Clueless are lip locked. Blue Eyes is watching the continuous disaster that is in front of her, it could go on for hours and it's not going anywhere. (This is a MAJOR pet peeve of mine sure to be discussed in detail at a later time.) Right now, I'm out the door to see a couple friends.<br /><br />Once I bounce back, everyone is gone. It's 3am, what'd you expect?! Hmm, guess I lost out, oh well. But, for some reason, I don't believe it. Not for a second.<br /><br />Still, I'm walking to my car alone. Tired, happy, buzzed and tired. (Yeah, tired x 2.) Behind the wheel, all I want is my bed and sleep. That's it. No thought of what else the nite could have been. It was a good nite.<br /><br />When...what's this? Someone walking home alone? A girl alone in this 'hood? I think I recognize that hat. Yeah, I've already studied that walk. Earlier in the nite it was a prance. Sadly, it's less enthusiastic now.<br /><br />Until I slow the car a half block ahead of her. Until she jogs to the passenger side. The spring in her step and knowing smile are now back where they belong.<br /><br />"You know, I don't usually pickup 'strangers' at 3am."DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-41116074689939005572008-12-07T14:17:00.013-05:002009-01-18T18:42:03.947-05:00I Am Woman<em>"...Hear me roar, in numbers too big to ignore..." </em><br />Why the HELL did I wake up singing that?! I'm NOT a woman. I haven't heard that song in years. I don't even know any other words in it! But I do know the mind is a great problem solver and maybe it has a little to do with Miss Marathon. Because Miss Marathon has a lot to do with my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">quandary</span>.<br /><br />You know I am continuously amazed. And I was yet again this weekend. After a long bike ride, I went over to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">MM's</span> place. (She is a good friend and nothing more, dear reader.) She had recently done some redecorating and I was playfully critiquing it using the ancient <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">principles</span> of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Feng</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Shui</span>.<br /><br />I teasingly pointed out her "Wealth and Career" area was pristine. Her "Friends and Family" was spotless. But, ah! "What's this?" I said, "Your Love and Marriage is a complete mess!" You know, sometimes a big brother's teasing hits a soft spot. She melted.<br /><br />As we talked, she shared I was indeed right, her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">love life</span> was a mess and she was losing hope "it" was going to happen. While I listened, all I could think of was, "NO! No, no no, no no, no no NO!"<br /><br />MM is one of those strong women <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">truly</span> worthy of a man's attention, love and respect. She is also <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">someone</span> who routinely kicks my ass. On the ski slope. On most any topic of discussion. She had just done it on a bike 15 minutes earlier! Yet crumbled in seconds. And my heart went out to her.<br /><br />Sadly, I don't think this is just her issue. The more I talk about this, the more I realize this issue is common for both men and women. I'm dumbfounded. And I'm concerned.<br /><br /><div>If I were to ask who initiates the interaction in a relationship, what would the answer be; Men or Women? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">OK</span>, now if I were to ask to what percent? 50%, 60%, 70%, more? Got an answer? Are you sure? Don't bet on it.</div><br /><div></div><div>Ninety percent of ALL interaction is initiated by women. 90%! That percentage holds true for birds, for bees, for you and all of nature. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Even though</span> we are fully autonomous, civilized, college educated, etc. We are still subject to the laws of nature.</div><br /><div></div><div>Typical interaction: Female sees Male of Interest, she <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">chooses</span> to send signals of interest, male picks up those signals and flies across the barn, walks across the field or tries looking cool while approaching on the dance floor, and the interaction begins. (Men often get credit for the initiation because they are the ones who PHYSICALLY moved toward the female, but it was HER signals that started it.)</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>If there were only one rule to attraction I could express it's this: Women Choose.</div><div></div><div></div><div>What does this mean for Miss Marathon and numbers too big to ignore? It means control over "it" happening is in her hands. Focusing on fashion is fun, but secondary. Being "that kind of girl" isn't necessary. Just as lamenting no one is approaching is a waste of time and effort because you won't get back either. Realize your power and learn to use it. For good or bad is up to you. ;) </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>To my fellow boys I say: Learn what a female signal of interest is. And when you recognize one, move toward her. Birds do it without thinking twice.</div>DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-58254045206416761312008-11-25T10:26:00.009-05:002009-01-18T18:43:23.445-05:00You Can't Always Get What You WantWelcome to the inner thoughts of a single man. Not always pretty, not always honorable. Yet, there it is. This is something that happened over the summer. Worst part of the night was the Laker loss. Still, if you wanna know me, you oughta know this:<br /><br />What a great nite! This is gonna be fun! Tonite I'll be having a bachelor dinner with the guys from the office. It'll be fun 'cause the guys at my office are fun. And every person that comes across me tonite will have fun. Especially the hot brunette at the bar. Little does she know.<br /><br />I sit down next to my coworker, which just happens to be right next to a beautiful girl. This is a non-decision. I have a good time with my coworkers/friends who are just as fun/bizarre/crazy/solid as me. Like minds, you know. I become the Leader of Men. Jokes, pats on the back, scotch, laughs. "Scotch, I didn't know you drink scotch, nice choice, my man."<br /><br />Girl is talkin' to the bartender, friendly gal, a simple opener should do it. Girl to bartender: "I'm just up here for a visit. My first time in DC, been here a week."<br />Really? That'll do. Over the shoulder so you don't convey interest, Me: "So what have you learned in a week?"<br />Her: Blah, blah, blah, Louisiana, blah, blah, massage school, blah, blah, friends in Crystal City. Massage, huh?<br />Me: "What's a good movement for the shoulders? I used to play college baseball and..."<br />Her: blah, blah, pressure points, blah, blah,<br />"Right here, oh sorry it's hard to show you without putting my hands on you."<br />Indeed.<br /><br />"Alright, I'm havin' dinner with the guys tonite, nice to meet you. Have a good nite." Body lean, turn away, make it look like the idea was just a second thought, "Hey, if ur not up to much later, I'm meeting some friends by the waterfront, if you've never been it can be a lot of fun. Here, put ur number in my phone and I'll call if I'm free." Didn't ask, didn't beg.<br /><br />Girl: "I'm givin' you my number and I don't even know your name..." I'm (me). "I'm Natalee...(yeah, I'm usin' her name. Patience young Skywalker.) You're not gonna stalk me are you?"<br />Me: "Girl, you're from Louisiana. I'm not gonna make the effort to stalk you. I'm not that dedicated. Here smile for a picture." Wow, where did that come from, dude. Harsh. Smooth. Perfect.<br /><br />Dinner was fun, too many laughs covering every man topic there is: Strippers, Vegas, yard work, marriage, porn stars, etc. "Dude, I had no idea! You picked up a hooker in Vegas!" "Yeah, I had no idea either! When I found out I was pissed!" Damn, that's harsh. That would suck.<br /><br />Alright, let's text this girlie and gauge the nite.<br />Me: "Great meetin' ya, lookin forward to hearin' a true southern accent latr. Prob around 10."<br />Natalee: "And youWho is this again?"<br />Me:"Oh, u done forgot our talk on massage n LA n z Capitol of the South already? My southrn sensibilities is almost offended. A drink and a free massage may help. "<br />Phone rings. Hon, I ain't answering, I'm with friends.<br /><br />N text: "I'm sorry, I don't store numbers,." Hmm, never met a girl that does that.<br />Me:"I'll forgive u this time. Man, work guys are dirty off the clock. U may have to save me." Little test of with the dirty, start role play, ramp it a little.<br /><br />Now back to my friends. "Who brought the blow up doll?!" "Oh, shit. I thought this was a FAMILY restaurant!" "Don't pass her around the table. Great, and now EVERYONE in the place is lookin', you guys are nuts!" "Wow, our cute waitress likes it."<br /><br />Me txt'n Nat: "OMG! U got to save me. We may get kicked out! Meet me back @ Papa Razi, u can buy me that drink n we can go 2 z watrfrnt from here."<br />N:"Me buy u a drink? What country are u from, lol."<br />Me: "U offended my soutern sensebilities. "<br />N: "Where u goin', didn't u wanna hang out?" We will, we will.<br />N: "Call me. Stop txt." Nice, I will when I! want to. You need to wait a little.<br /><br />Dinner's over, great time! Lakers up by 21. This is an awesome nite! I call Natalee, "Hey, were goin' to Mr. Smith's. If u wanna meet me there. I'm plannin' on making a token visit and going to the waterfront to meet some friends."<br />N:"I'm waiting for a friend on the other side of M St, she's running late..."<br />Me: "alright, well, you know where to find me, if not whatev..." Make her feel loss.<br />N: "Well, I have to wait for my friend..."<br />Me: "Alright, I'll call u in 20 and see where it stands then. Later."<br /><br />20 minutes pass, I didn't even notice. Lakers by 24. Man, Mr. Smith's is rockin', live sing-a-long. Fun. 40 min past. I don't really want to call. She can wait. Hour and 5. Lakers by 15. They better not let them get close. Me: "Hey, Nat! We're havin' fun, where u at? Your friend ever show?"<br />N:"No, she's still late"<br />Me: "Well, guys are startin' to leave, I'm thinkin' about..."<br />N: "Hey, look across the corner!"<br /><br />Damn, she's tall and wearin' those jeans OUT! Better than I remembered. Great legs, those have to be full Cs. And she has no idea. Well, by now, she has some idea. Girl, ur lookin' too fine, ur givin' me a hug, "Hey!"<br /><br />Natalee and I head inside, bouncer knows me know. Thanks, big guy. She's lookin' for her ID. Yeah, make sure she's legal for me will ya. Shit, Lakers are TIED?! They can pull this out, stay calm boys. Nat still can't find her ID, Big Man doesn't know me THAT well. Great jeans. Long legs. Wow. Is that a pushup bra? Oh, well, no ID we can still hit the waterfront.<br /><br />Me:"Guess, it's not so bad you're 17!"<br />N:"I'm not 17! You're too much."<br />Haha, welcome to the fun.<br /><br />We start walkin'. Natalee: "Who were you rooting for in the game?" Haha, which game? The one on TV or the one we're playin' right now.<br />Me: "Alright girl, the answer to this question could very well determine the future of our relationship, u ready...Celtics or Lakers?"<br />N:"I asked u first!" God, she's got great big brown eyes, too. My weakness.<br />Me: "Lakers! And I thought a girl from LA (what natives call Louisiana) would be rooting for LA!"<br />N: "I SO am! See, I wore yellow!" God, they ARE C's.<br /><br />Me:"You're a fun girl!" And killer heels too, with jeans, that's a step above.<br />Turn the corner down Wisconsin. I can see my great parking spot from here. What a good nite, this could be a killer nite.<br />Natalee: "So you want a free massage, huh?"<br />Me: "I'm not going to turn one down. Yeah, I'd love a massage."<br />N: Soft hand on my back, "That'll depend on if ur alright with me."<br /><br />?, ?, ?! I knew it when her hand touched my back. No way, no fucking way! I've heard my friend's story for the first time tonite. Now, I'm him. No way is right, there's no way this is right. And there's no doubt in my mind what comes next.<br /><br />Natalee: "I charge $300 for the first hour, but depending..." This is a NON-decision, hon. I'll let u finish though, "...on how wild you wanna get, it can be up to..."<br /><br />Me: "And, this...this is where our nite ends." Decisive, strong, authoritative.<br /><br />She was no longer hot, she's pitiful. More sad and sorry than the panhandlers we casually past by on M St.<br /><br />Me: Body lean away, look dead in the eyes, "I enjoyed talking to you. Really did. (pause for effect) Have a good nite." Turn to leave. There won't be a second thought. Get home in time to see the Lakers lose by 6.<br /><br />When you put yourself out there, you are takin' a chance. The other option is to stay at home and NOT interact. That's not such a great long-term option. But there was no chance in hell, beautiful, long-legged, brown-eyed, Natalee from "Louisiana" was going home with me. I'm sure some other guy wasn't so lucky. No judgements, no regrets. Sometimes the player, gets played.DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-24176633098379399492008-11-19T10:42:00.001-05:002009-01-18T18:44:35.772-05:00Maybe I'm AmazedI am continually and genuinely AMAZED when a self-proclaimed, or friend-endorsed, "incredible" woman becomes fixated and stagnant in her approach to dating.<br /><br />Mind you, it's the same woman who will jump the line, take the last sesame bagel, yell at bad drivers, squeeze into the subway as the doors are closing, etc. never thinking twice, all while smiling and subtly flaunting her power. AND I LOVE IT!!! Infuriates sometimes, yes, but, dammit, I love her for it. She makes things happen.<br /><br />So when that same woman sits and laments nothing is "happening" in her love life, it's, frankly, nothing less than sad. What if that same ferocity and grace used to steal my cab were set to find companionship or even love?<br /><br />I bet it would be amazing. I bet it would be epic. I bet it would be something worth writing and sharing and penning for all time. What power, what grace, what strength. What a woman!<br /><br />Instead of saying "Hang on, it'll happen" (which is the WORST advice anywhere in the world, BTW) I say simply: If "he" hasn't come into your life, maybe, right now, you aren't the woman "he" wants. You don't need to change, you may need to improve.<br /><br />There are many "he"s out there waiting to see that kind of woman in action. The good ones will grab her, the great ones will never let her go.DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-313356117201707518.post-11154649602316989852008-11-19T10:37:00.001-05:002009-01-18T18:47:38.289-05:00Ain't No Use<span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>"Ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe,</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>If you don't know by now.</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>And it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe,</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>It'll never do somehow.</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>When your rooster crows at the break of dawn,</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>Look out your window, I'll be gone.</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>You're the reason I'm a-travelin' on.</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>Don't think twice, it's alright." -Bob Dylan</em></span>DCVibehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03172205332925433944noreply@blogger.com1