Ladies and Gentleman, Mr. Jimmy Ruffin...

As I walk this land of broken dreams,
I have visions of many things.
Love's happiness is just an illusion,
Filled with sadness and confusion.
What becomes of the broken hearted?

I wasn't going to write this, but then I woke up and realized I'm a little tired. I think part of it is that I am exhausted from Sunday and if that triathlon wore me out, then in 20 days, I might be put on bed rest.

Part of it is that I have grown weary of people spinning the public relations machines for other people and part of it is that I just don't care to pretend anymore.

I'm watching a good friend lose his marriage it makes me sad because he is sad.

No matter how many times I hear his wife say that I hate her, or that I spread lies about her or, or, or, it doesn't matter.

Why? Because people have a right to believe what they want. They also have a right to say what they want, as long as they keep it away from me.

I've chosen to stay away from her words because I want to be able to say, honestly, that I have no idea what she's talking about when she posts on AFF.

I've listened to her husband tell me how much he loves his wife and family and I feel for them both. I want to say it's going to be okay, but what does that really mean?

The truth is, I've tried to be completely unbiased and keep saying that his wife has a right to be happy and he should respect that. We aren't who we were at 18 or 19 or 20. And there is nothing wrong with that. It is empowering to admit that we change and that our needs become something we might not have imagined.

I have to respect someone who says: I am not happy, and this will be for the best.

Maybe right now it doesn't seem like the best for all, but honestly, who gets to decide that? Only the people making the decision.

So, while I'm told how I feel, or what I think or what I'm saying, the truth is, people have every right to be happy.

Sometimes, the balance between self and family can't be found. That's sad, but there are ways to make sure that promises kept aren't all broken.

But this is why the AFF-y is not for me, I've grown tired of reading too many stories about too many breakups or too many people who don't realize that you can read a person's 'intent' in their words. For years in some cases.

Even if they can't.

If therapy has taught me nothing else, it has taught me to be honest about how important it is to follow your heart.

And that goes for people I love and people who are just passing by in life.

Swimming, Biking and Running Through...

Through what?

It isn't pain. And it isn't grief. Ever wake up and just feel a difference but you aren't sure what it is? It isn't necessarily a bad difference, just something that makes you stop for a minute.

Wait, I should bring you up to speed. You see, last night I had dinner with four friends. Mercedes *recently named in Smarty's blog*, Doc, Smarty and TallPrince, not to be confused with 'The Prince'.

We went to a diner and I thought we had a blast. Actually, Prince said he thought so, too. So did Doc. Mercedes just loved getting together with us, especially 'the girls' because she says we don't do it nearly enough. She's probably right. Smarty wasn't so high on the event. Or, perhaps because I was looking forward to seeing everyone, I didn't really process what she meant when she said it was both 'boring' and that she was done with 'this stuff'. I think she said 'stuff'. She may have said 'shit'.

What 'stuff' I wanted to know...the stuff of bloggers getting together. That's what she meant.

But, wait, aren't we all friends? I know Mercedes (and I really want to call her 'Pouncey' here so I think I will) and I are Smarty's friends. We've spent time at each other's homes; taken trips together; cried, laughed, cursed about life together. Hell, we've had lots of wine together. And Coke. So we are friends.

But what about TallPrince and Doc. Are they are friends? Well, I consider them to be my friends. We talk all the time, we've spent time laughing, trying to dance, eating, cheering on sports teams and now, in the case of TallPrince, listened to me worry about my upcoming triathlons. So, they are my friends. But are they Pouncey’s friends? Smarty’s friends? No, they aren’t. And last night, even though I met each of these guys because of Smarty and Pouncey in one way or another, I was reminded that not everyone is a ‘person’ to everyone else. Sometimes, you never lose your blog persona. You’re just two blog people getting together.

Are bloggers, by definition, too quick to use words like 'friendships' and 'relationships' because we think we know other people because of their words?

Yes.

I tried to explain to Smarty yesterday that these 'great' stories we may have are dangerous. For those people who haven't been through some of these situations, they sound magical. Sexual freedom, hot mess behavior and the like? Awesome! But there is a downside. Sexual frustration, hurt feelings, STDs, you want me to go on? Right, I don't want to either.

But, hey, when you live a life outside of this stuff, you start to think it's fantastic.

The truth is that while the stories may need to be told, every single one of them needs a word of warning: 'Children, do not try this without supervision.' We are still talking about people at the end of the day. Real people with real problems or successes. And while I can’t verbalize it correctly, the story of ‘celebrity’ bloggers on sex-sites means little to the outside world. But there…Wow. It’s the universe’s center point. Will I write about this shit?

Sure, I'll write about it. I'll write about the feelings I have about poly vs monogamy; lying vs truth, fast vs fiction.

But I'll also write about training for the longest race distance I've ever tried. And how scared I am. But how I am now in love with Diana Nyad and I think she's inspiring me to say 'fuck it, it's possible'. Oh, she asked for quotes for her new blog. Maybe she'd like that one?

As for us, the people who write blogs. Who are we? Depending on where we write we are either noticed or not, popular or not, wanted or not.

But we are also just people.

I might be Bubbles, traveling party super hero looking for love...or I could be Bubbles, 1000 lb wonder dude in my mom's basement.

You can decided for yourself, I guess. Or, you can fill in the blanks.

Hell, that's what a lot of people on AFF did for each other. Why should Blogger be different?

When You Were Young And Your Heart...

Was an open book...

Oh, wait, I hope to never see the phrase 'I'm an open book', ever again.

I am sure I will, but I bet I will always be traumatized by it to some extent. Nope, nevermind. Just annoyed. I don't traumatize easily.

I spent the weekend playing catch-up with my life. I really had no idea how much I was leaving undone until I had to focus on a number of things all at once.

You know...the sister with the assorted problems; my daughter's friend who is now living with us after her mother kicked her out over the weekend; 'The Prince'; writing, more writing.

My good friend, 'The Writer', and I talked on Sunday. I truly love this guy. He and I are in similar, yet different, places if that makes any sense.

I think that over the past year or so, we've told each other a million things and what's great about him is that he never hesitates to tell me when I am being foolish. What's even more interesting is that unlike most people, I actually listen to him.

He tells me I need to write. He also tells me that I have a talent. I hear him, yet I keep getting sidetracked between the present and the past in terms of what to write. What I want to do is take off three months and hide away in some little place and write by day and stalk the streets at night. However, the particular gig doesn't pay well. Go figure.

I bought 'Renaissance' a present this weekend. A book. Yes, I am so clever. It seemed like an easy purchase and yet he seems very hard to buy things for because his taste is impeccable and he probably just gets what he needs or wants when he feels like it.

I don't think this guy could lie if I paid him, so when he says he loves the gift....he must.

I've got a story to tell about running. Maybe that's where I'll start next.

Oh, and in the grand scheme of things, being a sex-site drop-out is fucking fantastic. That's right, not even Smarty's famous "Just one more thing" can get me to go back to AFF.

Sorry, Smarty. I still heart you.

A Funny Thing Happened...

On the road to staying away from dating...

I met men who made me laugh.  That is such a big thing, you know, to be able to laugh.

'Renassaince' is a perfect example of this.  He is funny.  And smart. And writes me wonderful poems and emails and he's also a bit 'definite' and not prone to silliness, not really.

But there is something about him that makes him just the right kind of different.

I have been trying to find a name for him, but nothing seems right.  So 'Renassaince' it is.  

Before I had an idea of who he 'was' I told him I wrote here.  I am sure he has read some, if not all, of what I have written so far.  Sometimes, I would have preferred that he had read my AFF posts instead.  I feel as though they are more cohesive in thought. This place, while 'home' now, isn't following any timeline or pattern.

I have been writing out of order, switching tenses, saving thoughts for other posts.  Perhaps being too vague for a new reader to know what I am.  Or what I am trying to do.

But, in fairness, only I know what story I am really writing.  

And I ask for patience.  For myself, from myself, for other...from others.

But this guy, who makes me smile and makes me laugh, well...we will all learn how new relationships take off or don't.  I just know that I like what I have seen so far.  

He's new. He's multifaceted.  He's like a renaissance.

Sex, The Single Girl And The World's Largest Adult Site...

Yes, I am an adult site drop-out.

How did this happen? Wait, which part? Well, first, quiet down, it wasn't always a sex site. Then it was. I was there for both personality shifts.

So maybe I was more of an accidental sex site drop in before I was a drop out. We'll work through that later.

Now, since I live in a city that should be a mecca for dating (and isn't), I have learned quite a few things about dating, sex sites and the adult male species. Namely:

Men love attention. Yes, it is true. It is not always sexual attention that they love. Sometimes, they just want to goof off for a few hours telling you stories. True. Stop laughing.

The men on Match, E-harmony, Plenty of Fish, AFF, Ashley Madison, OK Cupid and Boyswanttomeetgirls.com are all the same.

No, not that they are similar in personalities. They are the same men. Ask any of them. The honest ones will tell you that they are on multiple sites. No, it does not matter if they are married or single. They are branching out, okay?

Don't be a hater.

Men, for the most part, do not seem to have a lot of like-minded male friends after they get married. How does this happen? I’ve got a thesis proposal to submit to Smarty about this.

You'll see women who have friends from childhood. Ask most men who their friends are - the ones they really share deep things with - and they will point to a woman.

This is fine, okay? I'm not saying it isn't. But men...you need male friends and you need to be honest with them. Just letting you know. It just may well extend your lives.

No one...repeat after me...no one wakes up and says: Today I will have an affair.

That is not what these sites are for in the beginning. Just an FYI for you.

Yes, affairs happen, but it is not as simple as most people seem to want to believe. It is not that your husband sucks. Or that you suck. Sorry.

I know that hurts the most. It’s easier to say someone was awful. Well, I’ve now seen it all and even done a lot of it. It’s just not as black or white as we all make it out to be.

A million stories exist out there. Each of us only has our own to tell. Yet, far too often, these sites become places where everyone wants to tell any story but the one they know best.

That’s why I am here. To tell you mine. Why? Well, it isn’t so special and that alone makes it unique.

So yes, I am an adult site drop out. And I am not in any way embarrassed by this. I grew up a lot ‘over there’ and I wouldn’t undo any of it for any reason.

And What It All Comes Down To Is That Everything's Just Fine...

Fine, Fine...
.....A. Morrisette.

I love angst. No, not for myself. Not really.

I don't think I do angst very well. But it does come in handy for those creative types who can take a feeling or a word or a feeling and who can turn that into something with which we can all identify.

Angst can be a good motivator for change.

While I sat here last week wondering what was next on my 'to do' list, I harassed one of my friends who was supposed to be focused on his conference call. DF is funny. He and I have been discussing 'bitter'. He says I am not a bitter person and he is totally right. Then he said that I put the happiness of others ahead of my own. He's right about that, too.

Perhaps he should be less right and focus on getting that new treadmill in his office so he can take walks for both of us. :)

But in reality, for the right people in my life, I will stop everything I'm doing to make sure they are alright. That's what a friend or a lover or a parent does when they care about someone. Right?

Now, the sad fact of the matter is that I have been wanting to write about so much that I can't choose a starting point. I've got a little book filed with notes and each one is like a little lighbulb! YES! perfect blog title. Then. Nothing.

Then it hit me. I am tired of people telling me how awesome I am. Yeah, that's right.

I am tired of hearing it. Sometimes, I feel it's a sort of cop out. Or maybe it feels more like a question. You're so awesome, but.

But how come you haven't. Won't. Don't. Can't. Whatever. You're awesome.

Friday night was interesting. A very good friend of mine came over for pizza and basketball and we discussed our past year. A lot has changed for us and we're on this new kick of feeling really good. Well, that is until I was reminded that I'm not 'dating like a normal girl'. What does that mean, exactly?

It should be enough that I am surrounded by lots of friends, no? That counts as far as I am concerned.

Okay, maybe I don't date in a way that would make it easy to bring some of my friends home to mom. But hey, remember, my mom passed away a few years ago and I really don't think she would be upset at any of my choices. Well, aside from the fact that we weren't close, she also managed to trust my decision making skills more than anyone else's in her life.

So, yeah, I don't date 'like a normal' girl. I date like this girl.

And that's why when it comes down to it, everything's gonna be just fine, fine, fine.