11 December 2009


I sat there trying not to eat the fattened olives in my martini. (I always think men look funny eating their drink garnishes)
I could feel you next to me, the heat of you, the smell of your cologne, and your leg was so close to mine, I felt as though they might touch at any minute and I might be embarassed about how hot I was.
I was halfway in by the time you looked over smiling and asked “how are you?”
I wanted to break down, tell you that I am a wreck, that my father died just days earlier  and that this vacation couldn’t have come at a worse time but you smell like him and sound like him and I want nothing more than to take you up to my room and have you hug me...but instead I just said “I’m fine thanks”.
I hurriedly finished my drink with the olives intact, charged it to my room and left without looking at you again.
Back in Los Angeles, I am sitting at the same hotel bar, with the same drink and same bartender, wondering what would have happened if I just would have revealed the truth.


  1. Nicely done. How many times have we all been in that position?
    What if.....................

  2. It's always weird never knowing whether or not you should take a chance. I have a million stories about a million similar situations in which I did just what you did. You just never know.

  3. I have my martini with a twist... but what great writing. I really dig this blog. You have a very original point of view. I will be back.

  4. Great post – honest and heartfelt. You post some powerful stuff here. Thanks for your kind comments over at Six Sentences, by the way.

  5. Jeffrey, stunning reflective post. Wonder and regret, mixed together, pack a potent emotional punch.