Hello.

Shit.

All she had to do was say, "Good bye". All I had to do was say, "Good luck with the move."

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."

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."

Fuck.

Too late.

The trigger just clicked, the switch just flipped, the tumblers just fell into place.

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.

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.

And all I have to do...is show up.

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.

Does anyone else experience triggers like this?

Growing Up

"Does this mean we're starting over?" And with one question, she perfectly matched this miserable, rain-soaked day.

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.

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. Scars well-earned that now make me laugh.

"It's OK if we do, I just want to know," snaps me back to the moment. I've learned enough to know to NOT search for the right answer. To NOT parrot what you've heard others say. To NOT say what you said when it all blew to hell because you searched for the right answer.

I've learned enough to know you speak from whatever is inside, whatever you feel RIGHT THEN. 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 consistent with what she knows is right, what she feels from you right then. And because it's real, it's right.

I wished in the past to always be right. Instead, today, with the rain slowing to a drizzle, I only hope to be real.

I Will Survive

When 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.

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.

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.)

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.

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 hamachi. Which I am.

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?

I survived. I lived. I live. I am bigger and more badass than ALL of those things.

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.

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?

Shook Me All Nite Long

TMI-Thursday? What the hell?

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 OBX, 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."

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.

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 outside 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.)

(Well, I thought I! was troubled until I read this book. I had to put it down before page 20. Wow. Now, very little of what I dream is. My sisters, you win hands! down!)

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.

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.

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.

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.

Tainted Love

What'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.

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.

My rhythm and approach may have changed in between songs.

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 learning to enjoy the music in spite of the ending, in spite of the message, in spite of the conflict, in spite of myself.

Too often I've ended it early, tested it on purpose, never started to begin with, or enjoyed only the few first moments with no future to be had beyond that night.

But this will be my fault completely and Contempt will be the reason. I have this man, and this book, to thank for at least knowing that. When one partner looks down on the other, no matter the reason or cause, it is THE predictor of a relationship's success.

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, "WTF?!" It happens too often to be overlooked for long. We both deserve better than that.

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.

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.

Nothing Short of Thankful

"Hey, you guys are making it pretty back here!"

The back porch never looked so good, "Have fun!" 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.

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.

No judgements about what one does to find love, I certainly don't want that spotlight on me either. "A woman who gives her heart sincerely retains her virtue." I am fully willing to believe that sentiment. And I admired her ability to apply it so repeatedly and so quickly.

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.

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 this 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.

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. "Hey! You guys are making it pretty back here!" 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.

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.

When Will I Be Loved

How 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 loopin' a lot.

You know about my return visit to Spain. 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.

When I left, it was all I could do to hold back my tears. But I'm not the first to do that. 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.

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 the Red-Light District, 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 concierge blush. If you've never seen the complexion of a Dutch girl, it's given to blush very easily. And I just couldn't resist.

You may also not know of my first western ski trip to Telluride. 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 Baked in Telluride with the best donuts I've ever had and a little taco stand with $2 soft tacos, also the best I've ever had.

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?

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.