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.

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.

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.

Not Tonite

"You're not getting me alone tonite." And I meant it as I pulled her in.
"We rode together so I HAVE to go back to your place for my car," her whispers sounded logical.
"In that case, what I'll do is drive by your car, and slow down some, and you can just jump..." I shove her an arm's length away with a laugh, "...because you're not getting me alone tonite. And don't forget to roll when you hit, it'll help the fall." I didn't mean that.
"But you have to let me in, I have a present for you." I pulled her back in, "Damn, you're good." Well played, sister.

Things are spinning, anxiety is high and my nerves are really raw this week. I had taken a double dose of Fukitol. 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 belgians 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.

"You need to be careful with me," I whispered in her ear, "You could have me for a song tonite, and I can't have that. So you need to be very careful." 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.

"Are you using 'reverse psychology' on me?" she wondered outloud, squeezing my hand and smiling.
"No. I'm not." 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".

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.

Back at my place I told her, "Don't get comfy. Where's my present?" Her coat came off and she got comfy. A bottle of rum was given while her shoes came off, "Hope you like it." A hug of thanks exchanged. And we both got comfy. Then everything else came off.