I was half in love by the time we sat down

Quiz

2012-02-09T13:02:00.000-06:00

I completed a Psychology Today quiz called "Are you Single at Heart?" and after getting 100% of the answers affirmative, I realized , I am probably not the marrying kind.

Douglas and I are no longer together and I am once again single. After 6 months of dating, it wasn't expanding beyond the "i like you a lot" phase. I was beginning to feel resentful about all the time he wanted with me and he was resenting me for wanting to be alone. I've discovered I'm easy to love with candles lit, my ipod playlists filling the room or over a glass of wine, when I am anxious to connect with someone. On the days when I live in my head, however, I am probably pretty difficult to understand and I get the confusion that Douglas had about me. The person in the bedroom, so open, playful and warm, sometimes disappears in the morning.

I awoke to a full moon last night, marveling at it's size and brightness. It hung huge and bright right outside my bedroom window and I felt weird about not needing anyone to share it with. I felt the pull, the wonder, and marveled that the energy of something so far away could wake me. If someone were sleeping next to me, would I even want to wake them? I just felt happy and full on my own.

During our final conversation, Douglas reminded me that I never made him breakfast, that I wasn't the life of the party and that I kept too many things to myself and that I needed to be more open if I wanted to make things work. (It was quite a contrast to a conversation a week earlier when he told me how awesome I was and that he loved showing me off). Frankly, I felt like a hedgehog, constantly in a ball because he was always poking at me to be something I will never be.

Don't try to turn someone into something they aren't. Even if you get what you want, you will resent yourself for not being satisfied. Satisfaction happens when you help others become more fully themselves, even if that means they'll leave you.

*I used to do this silly thing as a child. I would page through GQ or the Spiegel's catalogue and pick out men I would want to date. Douglas looks like a J crew catalogue model and had all of the hobbies I thought I admired. It's funny how often the things you think you want are exactly what you don't.

2011-09-27T11:46:00.000-05:00

I woke up to him murmuring "snuggle". I have come to realize in the last 2 months that it means he wants me to do the spooning. I met Douglas 15 years ago through a mutual friend. I had noticed him before over the years, although he just seemed too golden for me. Sun kissed skin, bright eyes and easy smile. I remember once seeing him across the bar years ago and thinking we were polar opposites. My warmth is hidden, while his was incandescent.

Whenever I was single from then on, I looked for him, but never saw him up until 8 weeks ago. We exchanged numbers and agreed to keep in contact. The following Sunday we met for brunch and he looked so handsome it actually made me feel sick. I had this strange adrenaline rush and I felt shaky and totally off my game and couldn't really eat my breakfast. I saw something heavy in his eyes that made me think that he must had been hurt as a kid. (This strange mix of do you see me? vs. don't look too close) I felt relief to see something beyond what he was trying to make me believe, although I worried he didn't have much compassion for himself. When he texted me later that he had fun, I was a bit surprised. I had figured I'd blown it.

Every week we get to know each other a little more, slowly building trust. I worry I may be past the point of any return, jumping blindly into the deep end. We were out the other night and I looked at him across the chocolate cake on table and felt water swelling in my eyes. He's beautiful and he's in me.

Last year at this time I was going round two with Aadam, realizing it was never going to work and that fear of being without him, shattered me. Now, he's not even in my life and I'm ok with that. I suppose I needed shattering more than I needed a boyfriend.

I don't know where any of this will go, but I am not going to get ahead of myself. I've learned that lesson already.

the downpour reminds me to grow.

2011-07-06T12:14:00.001-05:00

“Are you melancholy?” He asked.

“Yes,” I said, offering a slight smile “But, It’s not so bad.”

“I like melancholy because you can still appreciate humor, see beauty and have hope. Somebody can be sad and it’s just something stupid, and you’re thinking ‘oh get over it. this is silly’ And then there’s real sadness, like grief that's nearly impossible to displace. But then, there’s something deeper than grief, that has a real poignancy to it, that comes from recognizing the delicacy of the human condition. We can only be as happy as we are sad, but most people don’t realize that. They want to distance themselves from the sadness, only clinging to whatever slice of happiness they can grip onto. They don’t realize that all they’re doing when they pare away the sadness is shaving down their happiness, too. I suspect you aren't like most, in that regard.”

I nodded, feeling exhilarated that someone was actually seeing me, but also frightened.

“But you're also building a wall. I wonder if you realize how intimidating you are? You’ve become so adept at deflection and distraction, and building up all this self-protection so you can hide the parts of yourself you don’t like — What I’m saying is, don’t be so damned good at it, because it might cost you an opportunity. There’s a dynamism in you that could be tremendous if applied in the right place. That’s my wish for you, that you find that path.”

moonsglow

2011-06-29T12:32:00.003-05:00

It was last minute, sort of.
We had set up a hundred dates in the past (the handsome guy with a beard) but they were always cancelled last minute. I suppose neither of us were in a good place. Those days that you are heartbroken and you hope that someone will fix you, but you are in no way ready to offer anything back and you know better than to be that selfish. When sadness is a ghost looking for a body to inhabit and you wonder which of those things you are, ghost or flesh. that was both of us, then. (On top of all of that, I had reservations about him being only 24)
He had randomly texted that he was in my neighborhood with friends and that I should meet him out. I explained I was in for the night after dinner with some friends, so he asked if I would stay awake for a good night kiss. Not exactly original, but it was exactly what I wanted.
I had made a mix of music for us to make out to months back, so I updated it with some new Beirut, Wye Oak, radiohead, etc. (music we both like), sprayed sandalwood in the air, and lit about 16 candles. (even booty calls deserve some dignity)
His lips were soft, and the contrast next to his short beard was thrilling. I held onto his face as we kissed. The chemistry was undeniable. I grabbed his forearms as he laid on top of me and I loved how thick they were. His face burrowed into my neck as I felt the hair at the curve of his skull, so thick and soft.
happiness/desire/connection thick in the air. He kept telling me "you're beautiful. you're so sexy" (words that normally make me cringe, but this time, I felt grateful). I had faith that our thoughts were in exactly the same place, playing in the exact same tone, getting carried away in a moment we both knew would never sustain anything longer than this. (I think most guys have that untamed spot in them that wants to be reckless, impulsive and playful and maybe that was the excitement we were feeling?). Besides, is there anything more fun that french kissing a cute guy with your shirt off??
The following weeks, he burned up my phone, asking for a date. I finally agreed to meet on Friday, although I knew it probably wasn't going to stick. He never called to confirm or cancel and the day came and went. A couple days later I received a text about his friend being in a car accident or something and would I like to set something up again. I didn't reply anything more than "I'm sorry".
I bumped into him this weekend and i couldn't wait to hug him. He whispered into my ear that I was handsome and sweet and I replied with those exact same words, squeezed his forearm and walked away with the sweetest thoughts swimming in my head. He means something to me, just not the something that makes me need more and that's ok.

Sometimes the things that you love in the night, the morning will choose to forget

2011-06-15T10:45:00.003-05:00

I've started walking around my neighborhood after sunset, smoking a cigarette. (I know, horrible. They are American Spirit ultra lights, but still). It's spring and the sidewalks are usually wet or there is a light shower and the perfume of blooms and fresh green is intoxicating. As I light, I can hear the crackle of the burning tobacco, the pull from within my lungs, the softness of my lips and I might even slightly close my eyes as I inhale. (Momentarily, I'm back in Paris running around with a cigarette, some sort of proof I belonged). It's poetic and cinematic and loaded with consequence.

I'm in awe of how I could ever not notice how beautiful this all is. I'm connected, not only to the city that I spent half of my life craving, but to the people I share it with. I'm awake. I'm not sure if it's the buzz from tobacco or the act of doing something foreign that keeps me tapped into every second, every encounter, every smell. I look up as I exhale, watching the smoke plume melt into the sky and I am fascinated by the whoosh of air, where it's been, where it's going. It's just all so much, isn't it?

I crawl into bed and hold my hands up to my nose and a million memories wash through me. I remember the way my dads hands smelled and what they looked like and instantly he's back from the dead and I have a chance to experience him again. Memories I'd thought I'd lost, come flooding back.

I lie there remembering all of my lovers and friends who've had that smell and all I feel is warmth and wonder, and so much love (and maybe a little dizziness too).

2011-05-14T09:48:00.000-05:00

"the minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along"

-Rumi

vapor

2011-04-13T12:59:00.003-05:00

He came to me in a dream last night.
Finding him coming out of a bar in Montreal birthed a deep bloom of happiness within me. I yelled out for him and immediately he smiled and ran towards me. We hugged and it felt exactly as I remembered. It was almost as though the years apart never happened. (Nobody feels like the first and I don't think you can ever forget how they feel, smell).

“You look different, happier.”

“You look exactly as I remembered,” I replied.

I broke down and told him everything he had meant to me. I had contemplated this moment so many times over the years. I revealed how I had listened to nothing but the Pet shop boys for a year after he moved to Vancouver. How many times I had closed my eyes and relived that first night. How I wore his unwashed tshirt to bed all of those nights. How often I head read and reread all of the letters he had sent to me. How I truly believed there would never be another that would affect me as he did. He just replied "I know" and hugged me harder. He said he had to go, and assured me that I wouldn't have a problem finding a guy who would adore me and just as easy as he came into my life, he left it.

I woke up feeling relieved. I had lost contact with him so many years ago and I always wanted some sort of closure. We were only 19 and I had always wished we knew each other as grown men with battle wounds rather than arrogant boys who thought we owned the world.

I’ve begun to contemplate that thought which I refused to entertain for years: maybe there will never be another who I will care for that uncontrollably, so fearlessly. Maybe that’s the epitome of naivete and the most beautiful part of youth, the belief that life is an endless stream of hopeful, beautiful people anxious to love and be loved with purity. Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden before they had ever thought of eating that fruit.

I don’t think I’ll ever see him again, so I’m grateful for the dream. Unlike previous meetings, this time the delight I took in him was not attached to hope, but rather, existed in a promise-less place. We didn't need to fake a future because there will never be one for us.(although that still doesn't take away the thrill of seeing him again).

chiaroscuro

2011-04-12T15:26:00.000-05:00

I was sitting at a cafe near a window and my hot arm began to smell like you. It's been years since I've thought of you and our summer together or how the back of your neck would get so densely, cocoa dark in the sun. Whenever we would eat or sit outside, I would always make sure your back was to the sun and I wonder if you ever caught on. Although I've never been much of a patchouli fan, somehow it became you and the scent would go right through me and I just wanted it on me. Anticipation, like gravity, holding me in place, eating slowly to ensure the darkest possible color. Coming home, watching you take of your tshirt, revealing the contrasting hues. You hated having a famers tan, but I loved coming behind you in the bathroom mirror, kissing your warm neck and wrapping my arms around your waist. I would press the side of my face to your neck and could feel the temperature difference between the brown and pale skin and it made me crazy.
(If only tan lines were enough to hold two people together).

stars in still water

2011-04-12T14:32:00.006-05:00

A few nights ago, standing across from Aadam and his new BF, it dawned on me that I am truly over it. For once, I wasn't feeling a tug or a pang or even insecurity. Even knowing he's met his mother does nothing to me. I looked at the two of them and was surprised to find that I really do wish them happiness. As soon as that thought entered my consciousness, I knew I had let go. Stranger still, seeing them together only makes me glad that it isn't me.

I have been going on a few dates, but I don't really need a relationship right now. I have this stupid ticking clock in my brain, yelling at me to hurry up, but I am learning to ignore it. The older I get, the more I realize that listening to the voice that tells you to hurry will almost always end in regret. If I am being truthful, I had felt as though I needed a relationship because inside I felt destroyed and stupidly hoped for a quick fix. I think it's best for me to just stay out of my love life for a while as I just get in the way. It's stupid to keep halfheartedly recommitting myself to the same mistakes, with the same type of person, over and over just to avoid the fear of being alone. There is more love in my life than I responsibly know how to care for as it is, being alone is an illusion.

I purchased this really expensive bottle of french red wine months ago (a beautiful french clerk told me it was his favorite and that's all it took) for a special occasion and last night just felt like the right time to drink it. So I took a hot salted bath, opened the windows and lit some candles, drank wine in bed and listened to music. I was smiling and it hit me how happy I was. Even better, it's not tied to anything or anyone. My phone beeped and it was Dan. Please come see me. This weather reminds me of a night that I should be coming over to see you and I miss you. My smile got bigger and my heart felt fuller, so obviously I am still boy crazy, but I'm done going backwards....really done.

So, I am going to enjoy a summer (maybe a whole life) of being single and just see what happens. I am actually looking forward to it.

the fastest way to freedom is to feel your feelings.

2011-03-05T10:27:00.002-06:00

I should just be focusing on feeling what I am feeling, right? Why rush out of this? I am not sad, at least not in some tragic sense anyways. My memories are soft and some days they still tug on my heart a bit, but it almost always results in a smile.

I have gone on multiple dates with a couple guys, but to be honest, I can't be what they want. I find myself making excuses, not answering texts, feeling guilty and sailing further away from the person I've become over the last few months. It feels awkward pulling away from someone for no describable reason and it always feels unkind to reject someone. Dating makes you so vulnerable that rejection sometimes feels worse than it should.

I miss being nuts about someone. Aadam was five months ago and I really have made peace with our ending. It was the best thing that could have happened to me. He changed the rules though, and dating just got a little more difficult. I'm trusting my gut instead of my eyes, or even worse my dick.

So now I have a couple emails to compose. Telling two great guys that they are indeed great, just not for me, at least not now. sigh.

your girl is lovely Hubble

2011-01-15T12:46:00.009-06:00

This last month I have finally gotten back on my feet a little bit. Breaking up with Aadam has been the catalyst for changing my life. In all honesty, I had been increasingly unsatisfied with all aspects of my life: my friendships, my job, my creative process, love and even my location. Our demise left me feeling so desperate, I had to change my life, and I did so earnestly. After a few months, the seeds I had planted began to flourish. I had lingering sadness over Aadam, but I could manage it. If my life is a novel, I know this will someday be my sweetest chapter, a beautiful darkness, the turning point.

Aadam called me last Monday and I felt excited to hear from him. We caught up and agreed to meet for drinks Saturday night at my favorite haunt(after three months of not seeing each other). I had anxiety about it, but I knew we had to move on and I needed to apologize for being unkind when my sky was falling.

(When Aadam walks into a room, it is if the air is sucked out it and no one else exists. A punch in the gut. I have never experienced something this enormous before and I have no explanation for it. It never disappears, regardless of how often I see him. I hate his style, his sleep machine, his jokes are corny and his feature can sometimes look crazy, but he stuns me.)

We sit down and it feels good. I don't feel sick or anxious. It's genuinely great to see him and I am filled with only love. It's all going great until he says he has gone on some dates (8) with a guy he likes. He wouldn't call him a boyfriend, they haven't had sex, but he likes him. I told him that I was wishing him love everyday so I knew he would move on, but I still felt some sadness. All of the little sweet things he did for me that made "us" are now being done for somebody else. My bruised ego reappears. I take deep breaths as he tells me how light and goofy he is. "He is more like me and has my sense of humor". I know that I am/was complicated, prone to rumination and over analytical, but I still like fun and the majority of my days are filled with laughter, thank you very much. I finally got to ask, "why wasn't it me?" I asked with the softest heart imaginable and waited. "You were always so emotional and it was just harder." "You have no idea what you mean to me or how many things you have taught me." I completely understood. It was hard. I was miserable waiting for his personality to match the physical energy he filled me with. I had always felt this burning connection, but maybe I had been wrong to assume that meant we were meant to be lovers. Just because he doesn't carry me off into the sunset does not mean ours is not a happy ending.

The hour sails by and when he drops me off, he gives me one of his signature giant hugs (and nothing feels as good) and a friendly kiss on the cheek.
It wasn't until the next day, when I was retelling the story to my mother that I started quietly crying. It's really over. Two puzzle pieces that will never fit. My tears are beautiful prayers, not indictments of any hurt we have made.

I don't know what happens next, but I am proud of us. I hope he has someone light and fun in his life as equally as i hope I have someone deep, complex and creative in mine.

redefining my instincts.

2011-01-14T11:26:00.004-06:00

It would be really hard to describe the last few months in blog form (especially in the short story form I often use), but suffice to say, it has been one of the most difficult points in my life. Aadam broke up with me in August because he was afraid, only to want me back a few weeks later. I was miserable without him, so of course I went back. With all of the unease I was feeling after the first break up, I was never really myself anymore. I was anxious, needy, jealous, suspicious, sharp tongued and judgemental. One of us pushes, the other pulls, taking turns being the more affectionate or the more patient until we snap and withdraw only to reverse roles. It began to feel rewardless and exhausting and I was so angry because I was convinced it was my fault.

The night of the second break up, he had come over as he normally did and I immediately asked him what was going on. His own uncertainty filled my room. He said it was nothing but I insisted I could feel it, and now was the time to be honest. He said he was unable to put it into words. He had never felt this way about anyone but he had all of this internal muck he needed to clear out.(to say that he had a rough childhood would be putting it lightly) One by one the words he'd held inside began to fall from his lips, and the weight of those words felt like collapsing buildings until, finally, I saw a whole city destroyed. I felt the wind knocked out of me and I started pacing and feeling sick again. He looked at me with tears in his reddening eyes and said "don't you think I'm feeling the same way? do you have any idea how much you mean to me?" I felt like nothing.

The month that followed was rough. I was feeling left out of his life. I was being passive aggressive and then apologetic. I would wait for his call, just to yell at him, hoping to get an explanation that made sense. He left me reeling.

I had to get out of this, but how? The minute I would get home from work, I would fill the bathtub with hot water, turn off all of the lights, light a candle, put on Jonsi or sigur ros and meditate in the steaming water. One by one, every idea I ever had about love, my family, my friends and my past relationships marched forward to present themselves. First it was making peace with my fathers death, then walking out on Richard, followed by Aadam's and Dan's inability to commit, but that was just the beginning. Tapping into my source made me realize I had been a fucking mess most of my life. Living carelessly, only to be leveled the minute someone treated me the same way I treated a lot of the men in my life. Months of this, sorting through years of unfinished business and I could finally find peace and forgiveness. I finally realized why I kept coming back to the same spot over and over.

Years of keeping a lie about my sexuality kept me from ever feeling loved. Whenever someone would tell me they loved me, the voice in the back of my head would say "if they only knew". I was unconscious of this, but I believed it. At first it was with family and friends, but eventually it crept into every aspect of my life. Someone would say "I love your hair" and I would think, "how will anyone love me once it falls out?". When you approach love or life from the standpoint that you are unlovable, you find people to justify you own fucked up belief about yourself, creating a perfect storm of neurosis.

There were many enlightened moments those nights in the hot tub in a dark room, but this was the big one, my road block. When I finally got "it", it seemed so obvious. For the first time in my entire life, I felt like I was going to be okay, alone or otherwise.

complete

2011-01-13T12:40:00.005-06:00

Dan sent me a text last night out of the blue. "I have been thinking about you and I loved our time together. I miss you (and your playlists) I hope you are happy!". We talked about life, the last year apart and our year together. It was the first time I have ever heard from him without first anticipating it (although just the day before he kept coming up in my meditations). I knew enough to let him go, but in all honesty, I had always wondered if he would find a way back to me. When we are done talking, I'm certain that this is the end and I actually feel good about that.
It's been said that once the karma of a relationship is over, all that is left is love and I believe it. All of the sadness I once felt about our demise has been replaced with only love.

The universe has been singing to me lately and everyday I have renewed faith that everything happens just as it is supposed to.

*edit*
apparently that wasn't it. This morning there was a text that said. "I really do miss you. please come visit me."
6 months ago, I would have hopped on a plane (I'd been waiting for him to say those words), but there is no way in hell I would swim those waters again.

my wound has been my healing, and I am made more beautiful by losses.

2011-01-06T12:55:00.002-06:00

(a poem so beautiful, I thought I would share).

The Pruned Tree by Howard Moss

As a torn paper might seal up its side,

Or a streak of water stitch itself to silk,

And disappear, my wound has been my healing,

And I am made more beautiful by losses.

See the flat water in the distance nodding

Approval, the light that fell in love with statues,

Seeing me alive, turn its motion toward me.

Shorn, I rejoice in what was taken from me.

What can the moonlight do with my new shape

But trace and retrace its miracle of order?

I stand, waiting for the strange reaction

Of insects who knew me in my larger self,

Unkempt, in a naturalness I did not love.

Even the dog’s voice rings with a new echo,

And all the little leaves I shed are singing,

Singing to the moon of shapely newness.

Somewhere what I lost I hope is springing

To life again. The roots, astonished by me,

Are taking new bearings in the night, the owl

is crying for a further wisdom, the lilac

Putting forth its strongest scent to find me.

Butterflies, like sails in grooves, are winging

Out of the water to wash me, wash me.

Now, I am stirring like a seed in China.

2010-12-03T12:00:00.004-06:00

October was a stain the size of you, a band aid peeled back to reveal a still bleeding wound instead of white healing skin. I tried every trick in the book, but no tourniquet could prepare me for the eventual amputation. It was pure hell. I would wake up in the middle of the night and wonder if I felt any better, but I didn't. I knew I had to go through this one on it's terms, instead of mine. I've never felt one this hard before. As an alcoholic might count the days in between drinks, I counted the days between texts, conversations and meetings, each time hoping to add one more day before I would cave. Does a martini say I love you? I suppose to some, it does. By Halloween, I had drawn and redrawn ten billion lines in the sand, constantly compromising what I knew was right, and I could clearly see the mess I had made of things.

November was an exercise in avoidance. Not picking up your calls or answering your texts. No longer sending texts at 9:31 pm telling you that you are on my mind, no prayers for our reconciliation, no self sabotaging every time someone asks me out on a date and no longer listening to emo songs about love. (I am by no means a ke$ha fan, but thank God I could listen to her music without once thinking of you). I took up things like ice skating, guitar, going to church and reading at least 15 novels because that took every ounce of concentration and there just wasn't room for you. Finally, I found relief. You made me feel broken, desperate, demanding and sad and I needed to reconnect to my truest nature, not some imaginary beast.

By the final week of November, I could feel what I had failed to realize lately. There is no more sadness, happiness, wisdom, love or heartache than there has ever been. None of us are reinventing the wheel here. Every feeling I have, you have, as they have had, and will have from now on. Heartache is what connects me to everyone. We will all feel this. It's not what is lost, but what's left behind that needs my attention now.

It's December and I have a date tonight. He's handsome and hopefully we will drink the perfect amount of red wine and he will stare at me and smile, and I will forget everything I ever learned about being hurt and instead will remember everything I ever learned about love.

This year is going to end on a high note if it kills me. :)

sentimentalism.

2010-11-19T11:43:00.004-06:00

I was getting ready for work this morning and couldn't find the brown belt I hadn't worn in ages. Digging through my closet, I came across the underwear Dan had left that night. (they had gotten lost in between my sheets and they were just grey Hanes, so you hadn't worried about needing them right then). When i reached for the belt, they fell onto the floor and, just like that, I was there again. Without thinking, I held them up to remember what you looked like that night of a thousand crows. You were smiling, pressing your face into my neck, telling me you loved me and I couldn't hide my happiness. (I had no idea that would be the last night we would ever spend together). I held them to my nose and took a deep breathe and I could still smell you, your fabric softener, and for a moment we were back together.
I've missed you.

wishlist

2010-09-09T12:37:00.002-05:00

he sings in front of me

he is virtuous enough to be himself and not play make believe with who he really is just to be more appealing

he never makes me late to meet my friends

he hates brand new shoes as much as I do

he kicks me underneath the table

he surprises me with what he knows

he doesn’t have a magazine rack in the bathroom

he is cool with the fact that I look crazy in the morning

he knows how to explain himself

he is a free spirit

he doesn't run like hell the minute something goes wrong

he smells good but not like a department store

he eats like a hippy but he is smart enough not to look like one

he makes me shut up when a good song comes on

he charms me by how well he plays with others

he says hi to strangers

he wears good underwear

he is a hard worker

he calls me on my bullshit

he won’t judge me for watching Pretty Woman or Working Girl everytime they are on cable TV.

he doesn’t order a venti frappuccino with whip cream and then tell me he’s being naughty

he doesn't think pooping in front of me will make us close

he winks at me when no one else is looking

he doesn't need to be the center of attention

he softens me up

he doesn’t dream of one day moving to New York

he doesn’t buy art at Ikea

he doesn’t read books about how to be happy/successful/rich/sexy

he whispers dirty things in my ear in public

he likes being naked in front of me

he loves women and doesn’t wince when he hears the word vagina

he attracts animals

he makes me happy I never settled

he tells me what he wonders about things instead of telling me what he knows

he is confident

he doesn't believe in tough love and other excuses to be a dickwad

he inspires me to think differently

the story of us part 3

2010-08-27T11:58:00.010-05:00

When all is said and done, he asks me if because of his admission, he will lose me in his life. I flirt with the fantasy that I will be strong enough to just walk away, but ultimately, I can't do it. I can hardly face him and I feel so fucking stupid for thinking that just because I love him, he’d be ready. We walk home and share a really long hug and I have to leave before I completely turn to water.

Before running inside, I finally said I love you. Not a perfect a moment to say it, but it was overwhelming me. I think he said it back.

Upstairs, I run to the bathroom to throw up. Was it my insides way of trying to go back in time, before he told me I wasn’t the one? or was it food poisoning? I felt momentary relief to be having such a violent physical reaction that matched what I was feeling inside. (I’m not bulemic or an emotional cutter, but now I get the appeal).

I had a sleepless night of cleaning drawers, sweeping floors, crying, pacing my apartment,rereading old letters and texts, anything that proved he had felt it too and that I had blown it. There was a lesson in this that I needed to learn in order for me to feel gratitude instead of feeling defeated (My own little Elizabeth Gilbert BS moment). The minute I would turn off the TV to lay down, I would have to stand up again because the panic felt like drowning. I slept from 4:50am -5:56am. I spent the entire day falling apart at the bank, at Target, at work and on my bike. I couldn’t eat because I felt sick and I was afraid I would throw up again.

I finally picked up the phone and called Aadam because I needed clarity. Yes, it’s the thing that you aren’t supposed to do when someone rejects you, but I had to know what would change. He told me what I needed to hear and I felt better and loved.

The part I can’t let go of is wanting one more night back in our old life to say goodbye. I want to roll over and see him sleeping, kiss his back and wrap my arms around him. I want to appreciate it and burn it into my mind while it’s happening, instead of taking him for granted. Will I ever fully appreciate what I have while it’s happening? Or is the best I’ll ever have just a few fleeting moments here and there of absolute clarity.

Love is often an out of body experience for me. My mouth rarely reveals what is swimming through my brain when it’s needed most and that’s something I have to fix.

Relying mostly on my writing or my art to reveal what I’m truly feeling is only going to get me so far.

the story of us part 2

2010-08-26T13:41:00.009-05:00

Months go by, and we keep in touch via the occasional text. By this time, he has come out of the closet and moved out of his mothers house. I am excited for him and after months of putting in off, we finally set up a time to see each other. I am nervous, but when I see him I just feel happy. He seems excited about all of the things happening in his life and I am relieved. I felt attracted to him, but it wasn't exactly romantic or anything. We talk about other guys in our lives and deep down I am jealous, although I have zero right to be and I want to slap myself for being selfish again. We end the night and agree to do it again soon. Another couple months go by and for the first time in years, I am finally feeling like i am in a good place again. We talk about why I did the things I did and as I am verbalizing my feelings, I realize how stupid my reasoning is. None of us are ever going to meet a perfect person that meets everything on our checklist. If him believing in Noah's Ark is the worst thing I can think of, I am just being an asshole who deserves to be alone the rest of his life. (And before you get crazy about the negative parts of religion, it also has it's positives. Aadam is the sweetest, most generous and forgiving guy I have ever met and a lot of that has to do with his faith, so I absolutely cannot fault religion or him). We end up holding hands in an alleyway and I feel blood pulsing in my veins again. The emotional chemistry has matched the physical, and it’s heady. The more we meet, the more I begin feeling something deeper and bigger than I had felt before and I am no longer confused. We end the night with hugs and kisses, (like you might do when you were a teenager) and I feel happy to have him back in my life. Last week, when he dropped me off, I felt the words "I LOVE YOU" in my head. I didn't say it, but I knew it was building.

I began to think about us before bedtime and first thing when I woke up and I am sort of shocked to be feeling the way that I do. He, on the other hand has expressed his fear of dating me, and given our track record, I can't blame him. Stupidly, I just assume I will show him how I have changed and that it will just work itself out. Hindsight has shown me that Aadam, in one form or the other, has been the best thing to happen to me in the last two years and I just expect a happy ending.

We agreed to meet for dinner last night and when I get there, I can feel the distance. He has a way of saying certain things and awkwardly smiling that feels like little dominos being stood up, just to be tapped over. He starts telling me how special I am and how much he likes me and has from the first time we met, but his insides are keeping him from being able to choose me. Meanwhile, I am telling myself "Oh God, it's happening, he doesn't have faith in me". As much as I usually prepare myself for this, in this case, I hadn't. To begin the end, he pulled out a quote from Eat Pray Love about soul mates.

"A true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you

everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever. Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it."

And while I get why people quote this sort of thing, I wanted his words, not some Elizabeth Gilbert bestselling BS about what's been true for her. I knew what was coming next and for a second, felt mad at God for not telling Aadam to choose me. Clearly I was grasping. I felt humiliated and generic and I was getting a taste of the bitter medicine I had fed him many months ago. I am absolutely positive he wasn't trying to hurt me, but how could I not be leveled?

to be continued..

the story of us pt. 1

2010-08-26T13:13:00.007-05:00

I know I have to write about Aadam, and I am not sure why I haven't before. I think that deep down, I never truly understood the trajectory of our relationship or where it was headed, so I just kept waiting for the right time. I'm finally ready.

I met Aadam two Octobers ago, about two weeks after I had moved out of the home I had shared with Richard. I was emotionally numb and unavailable, but I needed someone to help fill the giant void left behind in the wake of another failed relationship. As tragic as it is to admit this, being wanted was the only thing that kept me afloat and numb. I was so fucking overwhelmed and scared about my new life. Having spent the last five years in a sexless relationship, I needed physical intimacy. It was only meant to be casual, and I made that crystal clear, but I could always tell Aadam felt something bigger than I wanted him too. A week after we had met, he sent a sweet card in the mail saying he respected my emotional limitations, but that he would always be there for me. (Looking back, I love, love, love that card, but at the time it scared the shit out of me). I immediately started finding ways to back away and to stay detached. I felt unbearable guilt, but I had been honest the entire time so some of it was on him too. In the back of my mind I knew that not only was he living at home, he was in the closet and deeply religious. Even if I had been open, I couldn't imagine it ever really working out.

After about a year of avoiding Aadam's feelings and what I knew deep down he wanted , I told him that I was not able to commit (and even worse, it was over a facebook IM). Deep down, I had just felt he wasn't the one. I didn't want to hurt him, although of course I just had. I was still in the haze of my own selfishness, so I didn't even fully appreciate what I had done to him. (At this point I was still jumping on a plane to LA every time I felt overwhelmed, or lonely, or needy. I wasn't exactly processing my feelings in healthy way). I was trying to be a responsible person, but in hindsight, I was a wrecking ball.

(Writing this now (when I am a little more connected to my feelings) destroys me).

in dreams

2010-08-13T12:24:00.006-05:00

I forgot to turn the air on before I fell back asleep. I am not sure if it was my sweating that made me dream you were lying next to me, or if it was my heart needing to feel you again. I woke up damp, with the feeling I had been punched in the gut. You are gone. Three words that have terrified me since I was a kid.

I licked my arm to taste the salt and tried to remember what you tasted like, but I can’t. I no longer see a big picture or a complete story, just little flashes. All that's complete is what I have written. I contemplate hitting the delete key, wondering what any of this means to me now. Often, rereading it makes me feel warm, other times it feels like being hacked with a knife. I want to judge myself for being such an emo.

I’ve tapped into why I needed you only to realize that I no longer do. Coming to me in dreams about salted skin and swampy hair reminds me of why it didn’t work rather than fill me with desire. Restraints come loose in dreams and I won’t pretend some of you isn’t still in me, but I no longer worry that you will always haunt me.

2010-08-04T12:23:00.006-05:00

I laid in the sun watching the sea lions sunbathe on the fishermans wharf. After their mass exodus to the north last fall, they have begun to return. Fat glistening bodies, thick skinned and golden, tangles of coarse hair sticking out various places (reminding me of the one hair that grows on my left ribcage that is totally ridiculous) barking like dogs and showing tusks before lumbering into the cold, shark infested water and swimming away.

It's an isolating sensation to feel so connected to another animal, to a magical moment, only to watch it slip away into another world you will never inhabit. (Not for fear or a lack of desire, but because I lack flippers and blubber).

2010-07-16T11:58:00.001-05:00

I am obsessed with the noises pigeons make when they are about to take flight. A cooing, an awkward flapping, an ache, an audible burst of intense effort. There is nothing agile or swift about it, and maybe that's why it moves me.

(I can really only ever imagine spending my life with a workhorse, never a show pony).

sourcing

2010-05-08T10:00:00.005-05:00

I came across something I had written when I ended my last relationship almost two years ago. I was trying to figure out when exactly I had become afraid of falling in love, and I think I have found my answer. Even now, I still wonder what I could/should have done to fix it.

I am struck by the heaviness of the salted air. (it feels like a gentle suffocation) I walked over to my open window, hoping to get lost in the sounds but it only dug me deeper into the rut of myself and the reasons why I had hopped on a plane so last minute. You can never really escape yourself or replace loneliness with adventure. Shouldn't I have already figured this out?

I feel as though I am slowly dissolving. (My self portrait consists of a glass of water and an alka-seltzer tablet). I broke the life we spent the last 10 years building and I feel the enormity of that and it's too much for me to really absorb how quickly it will all disappear. I can't figure out if this is how it is supposed to feel, if something's wrong with me or if I've just made a huge mistake.

Our lives together were no longer working, on any level. We were ignoring each other, not having sex, doing anything to get out of the house, etc. And even when we tried to reconnect, we couldn't... it was too far gone. I can handle feeling ignored, but what I couldn't take was the extreme boredom that washed over our lives. If losing my father taught me anything, it's that life is way too short and I could no longer be so cavalier about the passing years presiding over our disintegration.

When you spend so much of your life with someone else, you know exactly how they will react, what they are thinking/feeling and it's paralyzing realizing how deeply you have hurt them. You know exactly what they are going through, almost feeling that before you experience your own feelings (a phantom heart). I had stuck it out just to avoid hurting someone I loved so much.

I keep looking at the blank canvases in the corner, but I am too afraid to paint. I know I will paint a monster, something tortured and ugly and frankly, I don't want to look at that right now and I don't want to remember this that way. My art doesn't feel like a release, it feels like someone pointing the finger angrily at me.

I have been watching the clock, waiting to feel better, hoping it's jet lag. Although it's digital, I can still hear a ticking and it's maddening. I want to crawl into the sea and be healed, but I have no energy to swim back out and that terrifies me further. These last few weeks have been a landslide, watching everything I love crumble away, and I've become afraid of moving.

If I had it to do all over again, I am not even sure that I could.

the final chapter of a mediocre love story.

2010-05-07T11:58:00.006-05:00

The weather yesterday was like something concocted in a cauldron, called forth by a wiccan high priestess. It was insanely windy, cool, dark with a spattering of rain mixed in. it had been a long day, so I took a hot bath, put on my pajama's, lit some (well, a lot) of candles and crawled into bed with a glass of wine, Fleetwood Mac and a book. My windows were shaking (I had never properly put them back together when I removed the air conditioner last fall) so I opened them a crack. Instantly half of the candles blew out and the room suddenly felt haunted. It was electric. I was about to get up and relight them when the phone goes off. I knew instinctively it was dan. A month will go by and I still know when it's him. Our last conversation consisted of me telling him "this ship has sailed" and that I had moved on.

"how are you?"

"well, you?"

"well too. should we hang out soon?"

"I don't know, should we?"

"I think so, yes. ;)"

"It's always on your terms, and in all honesty, I am just not feeling the one sided nature of things."

"I understand, I really do. this is no excuse but I've been traveling a lot... work sucks. I'm moving, building a house,... just a lot going on. There isn't a magic reason why I haven't been available, but it's been tough."

"when/where are you moving?"

"st.louis, three weeks."

and I should add that at this point I felt like he had punched me in the stomach. His building overlooks mine and I always have this hope that we will bump into each other on the sidewalk, some day when I am looking impossibly good. But now, that building will just be a reminder, instead of possibility. I felt heart broken.

"well, then we should probably have one last really good go at it before I never see you again."

"your call. ;)"

"I'll text you next week."

"ok, goodnight."

And just like that, the cool reserve I had planned to maintain has melted away and I am feeling the sweetest things and experiencing the lust of a teenage boy even though I know this will not end well.

2010-04-22T11:51:00.010-05:00

The trees outside are exploding into dense, perfumed clouds of pink and red. It's as violent and extreme as any birth and breathtaking.
The fog of all the things that haunted me all season has lifted, and I feel relief. It's been hard to find clarity in the haze of winters hibernation. When everything is dead and grey outside, I crave little indoor fires and when there is isn't one, I spend too much time trying to create one. Fun turns into need and that's where I get lost. I am not about to ruin my limited dance with warm weather, trying to worry about boys.
Besides, I have a love affair with my electra ticino bike to tend to.(and I wont have to worry about him calling me late at night to tell me he's leaving me for someone else)

migration patterns

2010-04-07T12:12:00.008-05:00

Today was the first day in months I didn't wake up to crows hovering outside my windows. I walked over to the park to see if they were still there, but they were indeed gone. In the beginning, I wanted to walk outside with a shotgun just to get them to shut the fuck up, but lately, I had started looking forward to the noisy swarm. They really were extraordinary. Their moving on probably means that I need to do the same.

It's been hard to shake Dan. It's a bit like when you break a mug or something you love too much to throw away, so you glue it back together... but you know that it is still broken and it bothers you every time you use it. It's just not the same and it can't be. Truthfully, It's hard to give up moments of him crawling into my bed, pulling me close to him, whispering in my ear about wanting to make me happy. I realize it's mostly smoke and mirrors, but he is just so beautiful and intense and nothing about him is perfect, and that makes me feel such relief. He's in my guts, but I am realizing it's time for it to be over.

Like so many others, I may run into him years from now (when we have both moved on) and we will smile and be all awkward and whatever this is, will be gone. I will get quiet and all soft again, haunted by memories of crows, a million candles and the puddles his shoes left on my floor for two confusing winters.

back at it

2010-03-09T17:08:00.010-06:00

A murder of crows woke us up this morning, having lulled us to sleep just hours before. This year has been an epic winter for black birds. When I was a kid, I remember an entire summer of giant black crows taking over my small town. The newspapers warned parents to keep small children and pets inside because of the threat of attack. I mean, they were giant, but they never attacked me or anyone I knew. I used to sneak out after dinner and sit under any tree that was filled with them. Even as a boy, I loved the idea of tempting disaster and the satisfying thought that I might be attacked. I felt alive.

Fall was unseasonably warm so the crows never left and they have been swarming my neighborhood all night for months. The snow covered park looks black at night because of all the thousands of shiny black bodies hovering in the trees. (when I have shown people, they actually gasp). It looks like the set of a Stevie Nicks video.

In a moment of weakness, I invited dan over after a late night text from him. I had been lying in bed thinking about birds when "do you hate me?" popped up on my phone. I have spent the last couple of months avoiding his calls and texts, but I wanted to feel it again. He asked me if I needed an explanation or a reason for our "break up", but I didn't and that was the truth. I knew that it made me feel bad, but it wasn't something I necessarily needed clarity on. I don't want him to be my forever, but I still want to see him as much as I can. He's exciting and he makes me nervous and it's been far too long since someone has affected me this way.

He whispered into my ear that he loved me, which I ignored. So he kept saying it until I changed the subject. He doesn't love me, not even close, and I am certain of that. I fell asleep to him whispering in my ear and holding my hand and I smelled like him and I felt so warm. I didn't even want to remove his water glass from my night stand because I like seeing that he was here. I hate that I am not ready to lose him.
I know he will eventually leave and probably even move out of state by Fall, but who knows, maybe it will be unseasonably warm and he will decide to stay another Winter.

skipping the first act

2010-02-23T17:50:00.008-06:00

do you ever feel like you just want to be lovers with someone, immediately? Skip the first dates, the awkward silences, and the games you intend not to play (but still do), in hopes that someone will find you interesting and lovable? I have been feeling way too impatient to start over, which is terrible, so what options am I left with?
Is it totally inappropriate to have a date start in the bedroom, and then afterwards, engage in the sweetest pillow talk and then make plans to have dinner or drinks or even order in and just eat in bed? Or better yet, go out for an organic breakfast after making out and listening to records all morning! Or is it better to wonder about the sexual chemistry and prolong everything just to pretend you aren't a total whore?
There is this scene in Broken English when Parker Posey and that french guy just become lovers, and truly intimate, and they lose each other only to find each other again on a train in Paris. Sign me up for that, and not some shitty first date that feels like a job interview (and I know they aren't all like that, but lately, it seems to be that way for me).
Anyways, this is the sort of thing I am thinking about while watching the snow fly outside my 4rth floor window this morning. The sky is falling and I am finally coming to terms with my genuine fear of being alone/ letting someone down/ being hurt, so I am only thinking about the fun part.

"drink up baby, look at the stars"

2010-02-06T12:17:00.011-06:00

It's pouring rain in Los Angeles tonight after an afternoon of intense anticipation. The paper lanterns and origami birds in the trees have begun to bleed their painted on color and the candles are making that hissing noise I love. It's a mess and everyone has decided to run inside or back to their cars.
You are still and looking at me, and somehow in the melee I have caught you. Why hadn't I noticed you before? I grab my friends abandoned cigarettes (I always crave a cigarette when something seems french, cinematic, or too big) and although the filter is damp, it lights. You are smirking and I smile back, but I quickly look away and exhale (I like being watched when I am happy). I am hearing Elliott Smith songs in my head and my heartbeat quickens, wishing I would rust and get frozen in this heartbreakingly perfect moment rather than ruin this with awkward introductions, explanations and nervous laughter. You look as if you are about to say something and instead of letting you, I run after my friends without looking back.
I don't live here, I don't even know if you are gay, and I don't want to stare at my phone wondering if you will call while I am still in town. As much as I want to fall in love in the pouring rain, I no longer believe you can make something work just because you want it to. The ghosts of everyone I have ever loved still float around me.

RIP JD Salinger

2010-01-28T13:12:00.000-06:00

I could never put it into words, so I won't.... but it wont feel the same without you.

my sunday Jan 17.2010

2010-01-20T10:28:00.003-06:00

I felt especially happy, so I prepared a bowl of steaming noodles with green onions, miso broth, shattered peanuts and bean sprouts. I like how plain but meaningful this meal has become to me. (thanks in large part to the films of Ron kar wai and a small cafe in Paris) Few things make me as happy as sitting on my floor, in front of the speakers, daydreaming and eating steaming bowls of noodles. As I was winding the noodles around my chopsticks, my phone beeps, and after two months in absentia, it's you (waterworks). Of fucking course it is. I had only started not thinking about you just two days before so it's only logical you should reappear.
"hey. What's up?"
"I just got home, listening to music"
"we should hang"
"LOL!"
"No?"
"It's just funny how you appear out of nowhere, expecting to hang out"
"It was a break I guess."
"Listen Dan, I am not going to be angry or anything equally as stupid, but the way you left last time left me feeling pretty shitty."
"And I always wanted to tell you that I would never try to out you.. I know you worry about that."
"Thanks. I still want to talk sometime though."

and that was that. No satisfaction about his return, just loneliness. (wasn't I just feeling like a japanese movie star just moments before?) That's the confusing thing, just when I think I have actually turned a corner, I realize I am just walking around the same block.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't wanting to see him again or that I didn't know he would come back, but I already know how this ends and I'm not sure I am willing to go there again. I mean, I have kicked myself a million times for things I should have said, asked, done... but I had hoped this hindsight might make me better for someone else, not him. But now I have the opportunity to see that face again, and it's trumping my common sense.
I wish I could quit you.

my guts/motivations/inner workings/ neuroses

2010-01-08T11:43:00.001-06:00

I am constantly thinking about the water and boats and sailing away.

my heroes/people who inspire me: Rei Kawakubo, JD salinger, Little Edie Beale, Nan Goldin, Gore Vidal, Wong Kar Wai, the pastry chef at La Duree, my mother, the guy at the bar who pulled my aside when I was 21 and warned me that one day I will be invisible too, Amy and David sederis, Sandra Bernhard and my crazy old neighbor (who always dresses up, even to take out the trash).

I have an insane sense of childlike adventure and very few things freak me out besides infinity.

Jukeboxes fascinate and destroy me (depending on selection of course).

It's my nature to cheer for the underdog almost always.

I crack myself up so much and that can be annoying to others, I'm sure.

When I am doing housework, I will ask myself questions about current events... and then answer my own questions!!

I can be all or nothing aka hot/cold, aka a total fucking nightmare.

People who need constant validation and attention bore the fuck out of me and make me nervous.

I have a strong desire to be surrounded by good manners but I love, love , love a foul mouth.

I am not always sure what part of my memory is real and what part is an invention. So many things I have dreamed into being, just to feel okay.(Equal parts comforting and embarrassing)

I never wonder about space travel, although I attach meaning to almost every full moon or falling star.

Attending catholic school made me believe that my thoughts were either the devil or god communicating with me. I used to constantly apologize for my thoughts via my thoughts. (Maybe that's where I learned to hold it in).

I don't always feel things as they happen (unless it's in the water or it's music). Often times it takes me a few hours to catch up to how happy something/someone has made me.

People who cannot eat with a knife and fork at the same time break my heart a little bit.

A good chef always brings tears to my eyes.

I always rub dirt on new shoes before I wear them just to avoid people asking if I bought new shoes. wtf?

I could eat a million pieces of cake. In fact, I think I would prefer to skip a party all together and just be alone with the cake. (sad, really).

I am easily smothered by people with the best intentions and that frustrates me.

I am obsessed with clean sheets and towels. (High end hotels with crisp sheets and huge fluffy towels are basically my idea of porn).

I can't leave the house messy, and when I have tried, I always have to turn back to clean. It sort of sucks.

I don't like eating food that came from a kitchen with kids in it and if you ever tell me that your child help make something you want me to eat, I definitely will not be eating it. Kids always sneak in a nose/butt/crotch/ear/head picking when you aren't looking, (trust me).

I hate straws and sweaty plastic cups so don't look at me all weird when I order my iced coffee in a paper cup.

I don't like high definition It just makes people look like shit.

If a movie is marketed to lonely, desperate women hoping for a happy ending, I will probably, almost always, love it.

bad dates

2010-01-06T11:17:00.006-06:00

I am sorry for the long gap between posting. I had been feeling blue (see "waterworks") and with the holidays, freezing cold, etc. I have just been feeling uninspired. On top of that, for the first time in 13 years, I went on a bad date.

"B" was back in town from LA and I had decided we should see 'Up in the Air'. I remembered hearing that it was somewhat of a feel good film and I thought the whole George Clooney thing might put me in a more romantic mood. I really wanted to see Precious, but it seemed a bit much for a first date.
Anyways, "B" is computer tech and I have always had a thing for nerds or that geek chic look and I thought this would be fun. I was dating outside my typical "box" and felt good about it.

Unfortunately, he talked loudly the entire time leading up to the opening scene, and as soon it was over, proclaimed "I knew that's what would happen!" I felt stupid that I didn't know that's what would happen. This wasn't going well.

I suggested we go to a french bistro I love around the corner from the theater for a drink. He has the server describe the specials twice. He settles on the chicken, which is the plat du jour. I decided on the risotto (sometimes it's just best to order something really easy to eat to avoid something catastrophic happening).

He can't seem to figure out what the white vegetable is on his plate, even though the waitress has already explained the dish, twice. Had he actually listened, he would know they were turnips. I said " I am pretty sure they are turnips". He doesn't think so, and keeps wondering aloud what they could be. He puts them in his mouth, rolls them around, and looks confused. At this point, I am positively having an awful time and I am fantasizing about strangling him. Even the wine isn't helping.

His stories are so painstakingly long that I have to stop him in the middle to tell him that I am confused by what he is even talking about. He seems to think it's cute that I can't seem to follow him. He then explains that he is very precise with his communication skills because he works with people who are easily confused. It's ironic he should say it in that way. Anyways, he isn't hearing a word I say, even when I explain that his idea of communication is actually giving me a headache. He just smiles and keeps talking..... about nothing.
Needless to say I won't be seeing him again and I don't have anything sweet to write. I have tried, trust me.
Having gotten out of a 10 year relationship 1 1/2 years ago, I have been out of the dating pool a long time and it isn't nearly as fun as I remember. But this is the year I am going to put myself out there again and open myself up to the possibility being in love again. I am optimistic.
keep your fingers crossed.
xoxo,
jeffrey

sexting (yes, I really have an entry called sexting and I am embarrassed for myself)

2009-12-18T13:29:00.008-06:00

I know, sexting is pretty ridiculous, so please forgive this forthcoming, shameful admission.

I recently made a pact to marry a certain handsome bachelor if we were unable to find someone interesting in the next few years. Rather than pick a cutoff age, we will rely on what instinctively feels too old to go on any further alone (and yes, I am getting close to that). It was the sort of silly late night conversation that seems ridiculous in the morning, but all of our conversations are like that. We don't exactly talk about health care reform or anything of real importance and although we are perfectly capable, it's just not our glue.

Anyways, I am at the gym for the first time in days, doing curls, when my iphone beeps. (I always get afraid of being too excited about my beeping phone. It could be gilt.com, ebay, ATT, etc. but still, that part of me that gets excited about the possibility hasn't died yet, regardless of how many times I have been tricked) So it beeps and it's him, and the message says. "I can't believe we are engaged!" and it's silly and childish, but it's a distraction from my recently heavy heart ( and I love it when boys think of me out of nowhere) , so I play along.
After an hour of banter I text "I have to jump in the shower and get to work" which inspired him to type "my pants are getting tighter!" and just like that, I am happy. Isn't that the stupidest, my pants are getting tighter makes me feel light and happy for the first time in days.

I know it will probably never go anywhere, but on a day like today, with the week I have had, it's embarrassing to confess that a little harmless sexting goes a long way.

waterworks

2009-12-16T12:15:00.010-06:00

My shower sprung a leak tonight. A bolt that fit all these years, this evening, was completely incapable of containing the flow of water. Regardless of how I manipulated and adjusted it, nothing seemed to work and the water still shot out like a geyser. How does something so simple become like advanced sudoku out of nowhere?
I was standing there in frustration when the phone rings in the next room, and I am surprised to see your name on the caller ID. It seems you have "sorta started dating someone else" but not to worry, "I am a great guy and you will miss seeing my eyes". (It's these compliments at the end that get me the most, like some shitty consolation prize).
I look around my room, and I can still feel all of the hours we spent in there and the ghosts of our year long, late night, mid week conversations. Everything reminds me of you and I wonder how it got this far. You've never made me laugh or want to meet your parents, but that face, your face, is the sweetest I have seen and I hate the thought of not seeing it anymore. My empty bed looks cruel and I fall asleep in a panic and in tears. Water is everywhere and it's an inescapable reality given my lack of skill at fixing leaks.
This wasn't how I imagined our demise...me in my soaked boxers and tshirt, holding a phone and a wrench, listening to you tell me about someone else who makes you happy.
Can we just put a nail in this year already, please?

2009-12-15T11:19:00.002-06:00

restraint.

2009-12-11T11:10:00.012-06:00

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.

golf shirt

2009-12-10T17:51:00.009-06:00

In an act of unusual bravery, I put on my fathers shirt. I had kept only a few things in a box when we cleaned out his apartment last summer. I didn't really want anything at the time, but I suppose my sister knew someday I would want it. It's almost cliche to hear that when someone dies, you can feel them around you. I haven't found that to be true. Wearing his shirt is an attempt at feeling close to him again.(a feeling I really hadn't had since the 7th grade when we would toss a baseball back and forth in the back yard). It's a miserable feeling you know, not being who your father wants you to be. In spite of my earnest efforts, it just never really took. It's just a complicated relationship that unfortunately I am prone to recreate with the men in life when I don't pay attention. I have this subconscious need to rewrite a different ending.
The minute I put the shirt on, I feel myself back at the church, sitting in the front row with my sisters. Although I was never close to my father, he said all of the right things like “I love you” and “I’m proud of you son”, but beyond that, we really had nothing in common, especially after my parents divorce. Whilst I could share the every day comings and goings on of my life with the rest of my family, my father was always last on the list. I didn’t dislike him, he just hated discussing the trappings of real life. If it wasn’t about the weather or his latest golf game, he really wasn’t interested. I used to feel bad about our lack of "connection" until I realized that was just who he was, his disinterest wasn't just reserved for me.
It is amazing how difficult it is to do the simplest things when you are hours from burrying a parent, even brushing my teeth seemed like an arduous task. It almost seems as if I had spent the entire week sleep walking , afraid of waking. I dreaded the knock on my hotel room door signifying that we would be headed to the church. Choosing a suit in between breaking down in tears, just to make it to there early to meet everyone who wanted to share their condolences. I didn't know most of them but I could see it in their eyes how uncomfortable it is to be face to face with someone who is drowning in their own sorrow. Also unnerving, I'm sure, is how much I resemble my father. I am not sure they knew what to say or do other than to just stare at me. I, on the other hand, couldn't take my eyes from my fathers ashes and the flag folded in front of them. I felt all this pressure to be cool under pressure or to have a perfect one liner to make people feel better, like he would, but I just couldn’t muster the words. I have always been fearless, but unable to feign a brave face, if that makes any sense.
The tears were burning my cheeks and felt like tiny rivers of lava. Crying has always felt like a relief, but this felt like some sort of torture. I had been touching my foot into the abyss of emptiness my fathers death created but I hadn’t fully allowed myself to feel it as much as I needed to. Walking into the church and down the center aisle to be confronted with the devasting reason we were all there, left me with the feeling I was going to pass out. When the opening notes of my fathers favorite song began to play, I had to bury my face in my hands at the total devastation of having to say goodbye way too soon to someone I thought I really didn’t even understand. What's harder is waking up the morning after to the realization that we are almost exactly alike...that, we understood each other all along but we were just too stubborn to acknowledge it.
I can't help but wish I could go back and be more forgiving, have more patience. All the peace I thought I had made turned out to be a castle made of sand, crumbling under my feet. I should have been there when you were scared those final nights. I should of sucked it up and been the man I'd hoped I was. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so stuck. I just want to call you and tell you I know exactly how you felt and I finally understand. I wouldn't be sitting at home wearing your shirt and trying to talk to you if I didn't.

another year.

2009-12-01T14:52:00.019-06:00

I always get sentimental on this day. When will this fucking nightmare be over?

It was 18 years ago that I first met Michael. I had been volunteering with the Minnesota AIDS Project, mostly doing clerical stuff and helping fascilitate safer sex round table discussions with teens when I was asked if I would ever be interested in helping deliver food to some older gay men who were living with AIDS. I thought about it but frankly, I was afraid. Not just irrationaly afraid of getting the disease (and I was genuinely afraid), but of opening myself up to others who were suffering and alone, a feeling I had moved to the city to escape. Upon hearing others experiences,I finally acquiesced.

By this time, Michael was mostly alone. The friends he had, were all dead or wouldn't visit anymore. I spend 3 days a week visiting with him while dropping off food in little plastic containers. He was my only delivery. ( I didn’t have a car and he lived a couple blocks from me) I stare at his pictures when he occasionally nods off. Someone has made him a photo album that he keeps by his bed. In the pictures he is so handsome, as are most of his friends. His place is immaculate, but I know he probably doesn’t clean it himself, although I never ask him about it. Sometimes I overlap time with the nurses who visit, but never friends.

The first time I saw him I started crying, and this flood of emotion continues for the first month or so of our visits. Not sobbing, just a steady flow of salt water down my cheeks. I blame it on the cold weather or wind.(strangely, cold weather does make my eyes water these days). He rolls his eyes and asks if he looks that bad. I always say, ‘no of course not, you look beautiful’ and he smiles. The truth is that I am terrified and I am sad that I am often scared. He just looks so weak. He has KS spots on his face and the drugs make him seem like he is in a dream like state much of the time. Often times he thinks his dreams are real. I never bother correcting him or trying to keep him lucid in the present, instead I just ask questions about what happened next. It took me about a month to finally be able to touch him. (I keep a pair of latex gloves in my pocket in case he starts bleeding or throws up or goes to the bathroom, but I never pull them out. Isn’t fear so fucking awful? It makes me feel like a monster sometimes). I am surprised by his hands, so hot and dry. I always bring hand cream and I can never use enough, they are that dry. I also bring candy along at his request. He loves NIBS(LOL) and I always feel silly buying them, but it's all he asks for. One day he grabs my hand and holds on to it and just stares at me for a minute and says “I wish I was still handsome for you”. I assure him that he is perfectly handsome but just too old for me. We laugh for 5 minutes. I stop feeling anxious about his disease. Now I just worry about him disappearing and the inevitability of saying goodbye (something I am miserable at). I hover in between the present that frightens me and a future that leaves me gutted. I relive our visits when I get home and I stay up late to finish my homework.

He likes to talk with me about my love life. He wants an escape and so do I, really. (I want to have a love life, but it isn’t any good, so I just make one up). It seems to tap into his energy reserves and he excitedly gives me advice (usually sounding more like a Jackie Collins novel than anything I would actually do). I wish I had written down some of the things he would say. I wish I had a picture or something tangible. Sometimes I can’t even remember what he really looked like, before or after. I just imagine his big blue eyes and the rest never comes into focus. I never tell anyone about Michael. It was too intimate of a friendship to describe without sounding confusing to friends. They were already confused about my sexuality and this might have freaked them out.

After months of visiting Michael, he died in a hospital on the other side of town. I hadn’t seen him in a couple weeks when I got the news. It all happened really fast. His sister had already cleaned out his place the first week he checked in and his apartment was for rent again. I was afraid of the hospital and I was too afraid of saying goodbye. I was just a scared kid, really.

Anyways, I took the long way so could walk by his apartment this morning and I just felt like talking about him. I hate that we haven’t found a cure yet and I hate that he isn’t around anymore. We have lost too many amazing people over the years and I can feel them missing and it really haunts me.

Be good to each other and be safe.

xoxo,

jeffrey

2009-11-11T18:02:00.023-06:00

I had no real intention of drowning myself in the Pacific that day, but I wanted to see how far I could swim out before the fear set in. I had heard of this innate instinct we all have to survive, although I'd never actually experienced it. I wondered if perhaps I hadn't really ever been terrified enough for it to kick in. I imagine it's like the doctor hitting my knee with his mallet only to discover my leg remains limp. What should be there, isn't. Fear nor exhaustion ever set in, nor did my inner voice tell me to swim back. Even the lifeguard was sounding a whistle but I was too far out to hear anything or anyone in detail so I just kept swimming further out. I just turned and watched, amazed by my own sense of peace and calm.

Tears were streaming down my face, into the sea. It's continuous, the sea and my guts and maybe that's why I felt so safe. I don't know, on paper it all sounds so foolish, but I was just trying to find a minute of quiet with him. What's ironic is that I had felt as though I was drowning ever since my sister called to say that he had died, but floating out in the water was the only thing to make that feeling disappear, it was the only thing bigger than my sadness. A welcome catharsis.

I can liken it to H.Houdini and some great escape. I swam out locked and tethered in confusion and had hoped to break free in the depths of the sea, before drowning. In a way, I suppose, that's exactly what happened. When I came back up to the beach, I felt cleansed. I felt forgiven. I felt grateful to be alive.

So when you asked me to tell you something important about myself, I cringed and told you that I live in my head a lot. What I wanted to tell you was a story like this. I wanted to warn you about my lack of survival instinct or my stupid ability to fall in love with anyone kind, my relationship with the sea, and a bunch of other stuff I wouldn't say out of the fear that I would reveal too much.

wonderland

2009-11-10T15:48:00.007-06:00

Remember the other night when you actually turned off your blackberry (gasp!) and said "work can wait, i have been waiting for this all day" ? You were like a kid with so many sweet questions. It was the closest I have felt to you. I drew a heart in the steam on the window when you left. Even more telling, i suppose, is that I windexed it off minutes later so that it would never reappear and you might accidentally see it.
I can't keep myself from wondering wether or not this will last another winter. It's already been almost a year since you left puddles on the wood floor with your snowy boots that first time, but I still have no idea what this is. I can feel my hard earned indifference turning into a semblance of real feelings and I worry about swimming in those waters again. I mean, some nights you ask the perfect questions, other times you barely say a word and I am left to fill all of that empty space with my own relentless inner dialogue. It would be so much easier to write the beginning and middle if I knew the ending.

Your text last night was cold. WORK PLANS CHANGED. I WONT BE ABLE TO SEE YOU TONIGHT. no regret, no disappointment, no apologies, nothing even remotely human about it, and it's frustrating how technology means I don't even get to hear your voice.
I took a hot bath, poured a french red, sat there soaking in salted water, wondering if I could fall in love with my single life all over again but I wasn't feeling anything but disappointment and desire and sadness about getting older.

ps.
(I should have never signed up for text message notification from Gilt.com. every time I hear that beep I think it's you and it's really a killjoy).

2009-11-04T12:43:00.009-06:00

The evening before last, there was a fire in my apartment building and the alarms went off. I don't trust alarms nor do I find them exciting, something related to the endless evacuation trials that filled my childhood, I'm sure. Anyways, it sounds off at 4am and I awake in a panic thinking it's an alarm clock (even though I haven't had one since the 7th grade). I realize it is the fire alarm and jump to look out my window in case there are flames. My neighbors have already collected their pets and gathered outside, all disheveled in pajamas and bad hair. I choose a pair of vintage Levi's 501 jeans and a wool sweat shirt and a hat and set them on my sofa in case I do actually decide to evacuate. I want to look cute and fresh, but not like I thought about it. More importantly, I am not going to be all broke down looking when I am forced to live at the red cross. but I don't evacuate, I just sit there. If I smoked perhaps, then I would go outside, but otherwise it didn't seem necessary.

The fire trucks show up minutes later, sounds of sirens filling my neighborhood, and firefighters come rushing through the hallways. Their voices were loud, so I figured I could just listen to what was going on. I keep checking for my door to get warm or for smoke but all I smell is the slightest scent of something burning. The alarm is shut off, only to be turned on again. I put on the jeans and take them off again. The smell of smoke starts filling my apartment. I wondered about maybe filling my tub with water (???) but I don't want them to hear that I am still inside, so I just sit still. I think about writing notes to loved ones and deleting porn off of my hard drive (just in case) but I figure that if I burn up, surely the notes and computer will be destroyed also and it's a bit pointless. Anyways, I have never loved anyone without telling them, ever, so I don't really have a lot to get off of my chest. It's been a little while, so i quietly go to the door and it still smells of smoke, but it isn't hot yet and it's not like I can hear flames or anything. My heart is pounding, but I feel surprisingly calm. Finally the alarm shuts off around 5 am, the fire has been put out, and the culprit is food left in an oven next door. I crawl back into bed and go to sleep, somewhat unnerved at how not rational I am in the middle of the night.

guileless

2009-10-31T10:15:00.004-05:00

dissipating ennui

2009-10-26T13:26:00.011-05:00

the moment we met, i knew we would spend some part of our lives together. I didn't discourage it, or wish it into being. Whatever this flesh of ours is born knowing, it knew the minute i saw you. Our relationship came about naturally, without dreams or desire.

it's October, and the days are getting shorter. Once again my room is all flickering candles and Midlake songs, and sometimes you still come by with such short notice. I saw you last night so differently. what was it, and what was it that i was feeling when you left? just as I was smelling my pillows, you texted to ask "why do you always smell so good, what is it?, it's on me and I can't stop thinking about you"

I fell asleep that night so happy and warm, dreaming of snow.

at least I'm evolving.

2009-10-22T16:57:00.009-05:00

Christopher. ( my hippie)

All i could think about today was your skinny legs and all that pot and the way you were so fucking confident about everything. You were always barefoot and shirtless unless you were forced otherwise. Our romantic late night drunken conversations of moving to mexico, before I really did wake up in mexico (or discovered Paris). Agreeing that adventure and tipping well was much more important than having the perfect apartment. Our shared admiration of "On the Road" and how it was your bible too. Big windows without blinds and how you always preferred the sun and heat to the rain and clouds I favored , although i loved but how brown our skin would get after endless hours in the back yard. Sitting around and laughing , drinking merlot , you smoking, waiting for your roomate to get home from that vintage store she worked at, so we could eat veggie burritos. Her dreads always made me feel a little sick (I felt guilty about that). We looked so much alike, and I would contemplate wearing a pony tail but it made me look so fucking stupid. We thought it was so funny when people would mistake us for each other and start up conversations not realizing I wasn’t you.(it happened for years before we ever met) The sound of Sugar magnolia and Uncle Johns band over and over and over. Peanut Butter always wanting to crawl into bed with us, even though it was always so hot and I worried that the bed maybe wasn't washed as often as it should be. How I lost him and the neighborhood wondering why we kept screaming "Peanut Butter!", (not knowing it was a dog) thinking we were stoners. Looking back on it, I think I was happy, but losing the dog made me doubt everything, and you knew exactly what was happening when we found him and I said goodbye. It wasn’t without sadness or lament but we both knew that hippie bullshit wasn't really my deal.

2009-10-22T11:07:00.000-05:00

Eric, (my unraveling)

I can mostly remember a year and a half of waiting endlessly for you or all of the hours spent on a late night train just to see you. That shit eating grin on your face when you would see me or when you would win a pool game. Your eyes were crazy bright when you were truly happy. Introducing you to my best friend Pete his first night in Atlanta and him freaking out how beautiful you were. Days spent in bed, forcing myself to be naked all day even though I wanted clothes and a made bed so badly. You reminding me how much I looked like your frat brother (even showing me pictures our first night in bed). You making that horrible macaroni and cheese for EVERY SPECIAL OCCASSION and me always politely saying that I loved it. That shitty Celine Dion song and the way you would play it over and over for me and hold my hand in the front seat of your car and always play it when we were saying goodbye. I just didn’t have the heart to say I never liked her but I suppose it did grow on me. You putting your arm around me in public and beaming. Your ex fiance leslie and that tone she took with me, as if I was the one who broke it off with her. You always running to be with her and leaving me alone whenever she called. I think I knew it was going nowhere but you would get that twinkle just often enough to make me stay. This is ridiculous obviously, but I never thought I could find anyone who was as good looking as you. I was a mess by the time you went to NJ just to get away. I remember lying in the sun at Piedmont park watching the ducks and taking poloroids, realizing how sad and needy I had become most of the time. My phone not ringing for days and days, all the way up to the day you returned. You had decided nothing of course and I still was hung up on your eyes so things just continued as usual even though neither of us were content. I wrote poem after poem for you and you would always giggle and wonder where I found the time. Winter breaking and the feel of the sun on my skin and I was running miles and miles around the city instead of always waiting for you to call or show up. I was so young and hopeful with such faith in Love and myself that it just didn’t dawn on me that I might not be able to make this one work out. Walking into the bar in November and seeing Pete kissing you and you leaning into him. I bought a one way ticket to Texas the next day when I realized it was really over. And you cried and your eyes were on fire and I felt nothing but excitement to leave Atlanta and you. (Sometimes it’s best just to make a clean break)

almost golden.

2009-10-22T10:46:00.007-05:00

Cameron. (my golden boy)

You saved me in many ways. I loved your devilish smirk, your huge muscles and hairy chest. I was in the process of getting out of the most damaging relationship I had ever been in (I may have even been hiding a black eye) and I needed the easy way you approached me and made me feel like I had always known you and could trust you. I envied the way you could wear a white tshirt and nothing else and look perfect and make everyone stare. Your golden brown hair and your lightness of being. I couldn’t believe you would even look at me, let alone kiss me for hours at a time. The way you would get me to stay, without saying anything, by standing there in your underwear with your head cocked and that smile. Dealing with all of those guys wanting to sleep with you ,that would make fun of my being 20 and my “twinky” body. (they really were awful to me) How your crazy lesbian venezuelan wife (green card) , would crawl into our bed, even though we would both be naked. My modesty almost completely gone. The dirty things you would say to me in the bedroom or out at night to get me going. The games we would play. All those things you taught me about my body. I had all of these insane, esoteric ideas of what I was going to be and do and you knew better, but never questioned a thing. Moving to Atlanta with you and driving with our pants down almost the entire way. We didn’t even have a place to go so we drove around until we found that huge white house with over-grown bougainvillias with a for rent sign in the front yard. I hated being so confused about what I was really feeling for you, realizing that sex alone wasn’t a reason to stay with you. You always seemed as though you could take it or leave it, and that has never really worked for me. Moving out after years of going nowhere and you acting like you didn’t really care. Calling me 12 years later in the middle of the night to tell me you wished you could have made things work between us and that you didn’t realize how much you had loved me. I always wondered what you really saw in me, I was so damaged and I didn’t have a clue about love or life or who I even was.

2009-10-21T13:52:00.002-05:00

softer, softest.

2009-10-21T11:46:00.011-05:00

When I texted from the plane that I was sad and needed to start reexamining my life, it was more about letting you know that I would be unavailable for a while, rather than some grand announcement that I would be embarking on some spiritual journey through the wreckage of my love life. I wasn't about to indulge in a peyote moment in a sweat lodge, if that's what you were thinking.

But here is what I have come up with. I realize I am ready to find that one person again to fall in love with, and jump in head first. After a year of "dodging the bullet" and happily avoiding the trappings of love, something inside of me has shifted. So yes, to use your word for it, I suppose this winter will be a "journey" of sorts, (if you call writing classes, pottery classes and monogamous dating a journey), but it actually sort of feels more like picking up where I left off before this crazy past year of escapism and various unhealthy ways to deal with loss.

You never were the one for me and I was never the one for you. We clung to each other for that very reason, don't you think? It sounds cold, but isn't it liberating to say what we have both been thinking?

And physical attraction is great, but it will never be enough for me... or you. I keep trying to find the softest words available to describe my current state of mind but it doesn't involve you and I hate the way that it sounds.

my dream text.

2009-10-12T20:36:00.008-05:00

Jeffrey!
I had planned to have this cool disconnect , but to be honest (and we don't have time not to be) I am a mess. I have been crawling out of my skin to talk to you all week, but have been too afraid of might what come out of my mouth. I promised myself that it would just be a fling, that I could handle it... but I have been turning to water every time I hear that song. And you are on the other side of the country and experience tells me it's foolish to say it all now but I can't keep it inside any longer.
I don't care if I have to act in some shitty community theater the rest of my life if it means i get to see you, to share a life with you. LA will always be here but I am worried I may never have a second chance with you. This is crazy, right?

sharing too much.

2009-10-11T17:21:00.008-05:00

I was in the mirror this afternoon, kissing it ( just to see what I might look like to someone kissing me) when a huge raven flew up to my windowsill and started pecking at my screen, as if it was trying to get inside. It scared the shit out of me.
And yes, it is completely not normal for a 36yo man to kiss himself in the mirror, I get that (and it wasn't like i was trying to kiss myself, that would be totally creeps) but this can't be a good omen, can it?

morrocco

2009-10-09T11:26:00.112-05:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DoLkSdjZV34

i'm pretty sure it was your smell (it always comes down to smell with me), like a Parisian hotel.
us awkwardly discussing past loves, our history, the devastation of being alone sometimes, fumbling to remove each others clothes, the taste of whiskey on our lips, all while trying to agree on a playlist. You hit me like a wrecking ball and you made me realize I will never be that person I spent the last year pretending to be.
How do people you've known your entire life not see you, and someone you've just met does, instantly? It's unnerving, and a relief too , I suppose.

I've been thinking about you for days now, mostly unconsciously, wishing I could walk up that broken little sidewalk, littered with abandoned headboards and mattresses, crawl into your bed and see you again. of course I can't... you are a thousand miles away (in so many ways).

and I am such a fucking idiot, of course someone wrapping their arms and legs around you means they want you to stay. the worst part is that what I was afraid of happening if i stayed, happened anyways.

Looking at all of the pictures in your online portfolio and youtube reels only makes me forget. something about those perfected photos betrays how I know you, what I remember... they erase the sweetness of you.
I walked back to my hotel, down that crooked sidewalk, relieved to be feeling something again, excited it (I) was still there!!!!

I've written a million pathetic postcards in my brain and of course I would never send them out, I would sound like a complete psycho.

I can relate.

2009-10-08T19:43:00.001-05:00

about me.

2009-10-08T12:21:00.007-05:00

An endless enthusiasm for detachment. Discovering the true nature of my origin; situation vs genetics. saltwater and how these things that excite me don’t move without it. Bursting vs feeling nothing. justifying my lack of enthusiasm or interest to people who just need or expect too much from me. wondering why we always have to be saying something vs could i ever get tired of talking to you? You in those white briefs and why I chose THEN to feel nothing but sadness even though you were beautiful and available. haunted by my most intimate choices. trusting only my own fearlessness and selfishness vs having faith in design and consequence. feeling alive only on really windy days or when running or down by the water or in the really hot sun vs needing hibernation and quietness or just a fucking break. pressing thoughts sent via phone texts arriving with a beep and my heart aching at the lack of connection and desire. Obsessing about gravity and infinity and the depth of the ocean and getting worried and nervous. questioning my motives and wondering if I am who I think I am and want to be. real conversations vs the imaginary ones I so love to have.obsessing about why you never arrived.being good at almost everything i try except the one thing that would have made us close. missing the mountains and cabins and snakes and bears and big skies and Spencer and Tara but needing electricity and culture. The inspiration of my own confusion vs needing the definitive answer and the ease of being right. worrying I would lose you vs worrying about losing myself.

Blueprints or Anatomy Lessons. aka. every time I felt it.

2009-09-22T18:07:00.003-05:00

Because of the look on your face that night we were playing in the ocean.
Because I am not good at casual conversation and you always understood my desire to be alone with you.
Because I understand your body.
Because I trust your instincts.
Because You call at all the right times.
Because you just needed to talk to me before going to bed. Because of those levi's and their impossible color...and years later, that's the first thing I think about when I hear your name or Canada.
Because you would groan in my ear over my tan lines.
Because you always surprise me.
Because you say the most ordinary things.
Because you like the noise pigeons make when they are together.
Because you waited over two hours for my call.
Because you always wanted more.
Because you borrowed my underwear.
Because they said it would never work, and it didn't. (but we wanted it to).
Because whatever part of me is really good came out every time you were around.
Because of Peanut butter, veggie burritos, hot summers and Mexico.
Because you wrote and said life wasn't as good without me. Because the world looked like a dickens novel from my bedroom window that night and years later, looking as handsome as anyone I have EVER seen, you still remembered.
Because I have no choice.
Because you surprise the shit out of me.
Because you sucked on my fingers.
Because we agreed it was nothing, but you still sent postcards and music for five years.
Because you made me tea and drew a map.
Because you held my hand the entire cab ride home.
Because you were so crabby without your coffee and that's when it would hit me how much I loved you.
Because you did it regardless of what I said or thought. Because you made me wear your ugly sweater that chilly night we were feeding ducks even though I wasn't cold.
Because you were brilliant and beautiful and you still chose me.
Because you couldn't keep yourself from staring at me.
Because you realized you were wrong and apologized a billion years after the fact.
Because you are a mommas boy.
Because you taught me how.
Because I like hands that are bigger than mine.
Because you have the softest lips and the sweetest face. Because stray cats are drawn to you.
Because we sat on a hill and you convinced me I could fix my broken life.
Because you are the hardest worker I know.
Because you handled every part of me with surprise.
Because you had to clean up after work.
Because you wrote "I love you" on that napkin instead of saying it.
Because of our "contests" .
Because you came running after me in the rain when I thought it was over.
Because t shirts cling to you.
Because you introduced me to all of your friends on our second date.
Because you take the most beautiful photo's.
Because you surprised me with that expensive book when I had given up.
Because of the Pet Shop Boys.
Because it was a two hour train ride to see you and I was always excited.
Because Paris is just ours.
Because you were fearless about getting into the water. Because you said "what do we have here?" the first time you saw it.
Because you can't wait to hear what I think.
Because you wrote the softest things on my back when I was falling asleep.
Because you are so eager to tell me what you are thinking. Because you are so comfortable with your body.
Because your smell makes me insane.
Because I had never been before you.