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.

I Told Her I'd Never Fall In Love...

But Now I Know Better.
.....New Edition.

What is my relationship with 'The Prince'? That is something I've asked myself since the moment we met.

What. Are. You?

To be honest, you're either a prince or you aren't, right?

Can you be both things at once? Neither? I guess so.

I have resentments that I have tried to explain a few times to him, but I also see in him the man he knows he is, not the one others believe him to be. Maybe that's unfair to him, me and them. After everything is said, this person is a friend.

Now, I'm not a savant or a psychic. I'm just brutally honest about people, at least to myself.

Over the past year I have watched 'The Prince' and his saga unfold and each step of the way I have asked 'why?'.

Why does he do certain things and not do others?

Why does he hold women to a different standard than the one he has for himself?

Why, especially back in August, was he not totally aware of what he had done and how that one action, not speaking up, has led us to where we are now?

Why. Why. Why. And how come?

My male friends think he is a douche, even though they know I hate the feminization of words to show disgust towards men, so they stick with: Asshole.

My female friends 'Friends?' split the difference between him being great or him sucking. It depends on the day and who they are.

What I learned is that I am happy to pull away from the women who put 'The Prince' ahead of their relationships with me, and yes, there were a few who did that.

I don't know if they will, or can, admit it, but it was easy enough to see. They worried more about his feelings than mine, they cared more about getting him to engage them than they did about maintaining friendships with me. To be honest, I got it. Hell, we all met on an adult site so why would I be hurt that women put a man ahead of their female friendships?

Why, indeed.

But I was hurt. No, nevermind, AM hurt. So now that we have that out of the way, back to the backlog of posts that I hand-wrote, but was too tired to type.

I Let My Melody Shine...

I am often curious about how others see 'love'. 

I have been wildly in love twice.  Once with A's dad and once with 'The One'.

I will always love A's dad because he is a part of me through her.

'The One'?  No one will ever be him. That is both wonderful and sad but I wouldn't change it for the world.

Last summer I spent time getting to know two men. One, 'The Prince' and the other 'The Actor'. They could not be more different from each other or 'The One'.  Not even if they tried.

Perhaps that is how I came to let them in to my life.  They each brought a different sense about life, friendship and love to me.

I hope I brought something to them.  Bring?  Is that the better word? They are both still in my life in different ways.

I love them both, but in that kind of love that defies traditions, logic or definition

They have each taken care of me in different ways; each listened to me; watched me cry or laugh or just left me alone to think.

Odd, these two.  Two people I did not want to meet.

And here we are, a year later, and they have each shaped me through their own behaviors. I learned to trust in some ways and become more guarded in others.  Or maybe it is just that I am guarded in new ways.  Or I just think I am.

They have each dated women I have either known, or known about, and I have grown from that as well.

To learn what drives people to some and not others is interesting.  And frightening.

30 days to write a story.  I can't do that without mentioning the people who have played a role in a year I often wish I could undo.  But without them, or this past year, I would not be changed.  And change is good.  So, here we are. A prince, an actor and a story.

Tomorrow You'll Be Thinking To Yourself...

'Where did it all go wrong?'
....All American Rejects

Five years; 593 posts; countless hours spent writing, editing, posting and re-editing.

World's Largest Sex Site? Or World's Largest Collection of unhappy people?

Now that is a question for the ages.

I woke up the other day and realized that for many reasons, logging into AFF disgusts me in many ways. I can fool myself and say that being on the site that long didn't change me, but it did. Did I affect the site in any way? Perhaps.

Okay, maybe. I have met some of the most amazing people there. And I've met nut jobs. No, honestly, they are insane in ways I could have never imagined.

But, because the site encourages its members to go beyond the 'lighter shade of pale' in how we interact with people, all sorts of things happen.

Like...

People lie to themselves about what they want; but, if they use the site for sex and blogging, they can lie all the way to the top of the popular lists;

People hate their families for allowing their bad behavior. And they write about it;

People don't like themselves. And they write about it without even realizing it;

People want to re-live their version of "16 Candles" without the quality acting. No Long Dong Duck for them. Just lots of nuts.

People are not having sex. Not me. Them. We know this because they write about it. A lot. I honestly believe if they used the site for dating or even just casual sex more often, some of them would be happier. Or at least less hateful.

How to explain this to the average reader? I just don't even know where to start.

I met the love of my life there. In that place. No one will ever be 'The One' and that is both good and bad.

I asked Smarty the other day if I could write a book of love letters to a man I'm no longer with just because I still feel the same way. She said I could. So I will.

But at the same time, I want to understand a place that helped shaped my life in many ways.

So...Love. Learning. Fulfillment. Disgust.

Oh, wait, that sounds like being in love and being on AFF. Yeah, I guess I can do this writing stuff.

Who knew?

I Was A Willow Last Night In My Dreams...

I bent down over a clear running stream...

....'Crazy on You', Heart

I picked up a new yellow journal this week. It is the same PacMan Moleskin that I have been using for a few weeks now, but I needed to start from scratch.

I wanted to give myself a do-over of sorts.

You see, it's been a rough few weeks.

My friend lost a sister;

My best friend is finally having to admit that he's not in the relationship he wants;

Another friend lost his mother;

A new friend is mourning the anniversary of losing not just one, but two mothers;

"The Girl" is home from college and feeling very stressed.

And my faith in others has been bruised a bit in the most insane of ways. You know how something unexpected takes the wind of out your sails? Well, there. Then you know how I feel.

Or felt.

Putting it behind me, right? Getting over it. Learning that sometimes, people care more about those who leave than those who stay.

Writing about this whole sex in the city existence I have (as my therapist has called it because I wouldn't have thought of it).

It's all a lot to work out at once. I kept telling myself that I would focus, and I haven't.

That I would stick to a theme here, and I have, but at the same time I have traveled off of my own path.

Write a book. Train for triathlons. Open my heart. Forget that it is hurting in the first place.

Right now, I'd rather fly to the sun on wings made of paper than do one of those things.

And that's exactly why I'm trying so hard to remind myself that the hardest things to do are the most necessary.

So, today, A is home and we are setting our schedule for the week. I will run, and swim, and bike through whatever is ailing me.

And lucky for this space, I'll fill it with details of how one moves on from what they allow to hold them back.

I Know, Nobody's Perfect...

There are times when I wonder if the memories I have will just fade to black.

Poof. Be gone.

Or, is it possible that because I feel them so strongly now, long after the moments, that they will just always be with me because for a moment in time, the love felt between two people was just that strong.

There were times that I used to sit up at night and doubt what was happening. How could this man, this stranger, love me as much as he did? Why?

I miss waking up and knowing we would talk. I miss learning more about my favorite adopted city knowing that we would one day live there and explore everything together.

I miss knowing that he could look at me and tell what I was feeling.

It was my decision, you know. To separate.

I wanted us to have a chance to get ourselves right before we made any commitments to each other. It had to be thought-out. I needed that. I thought, no, think, he did, too.

He said it meant I didn't love him enough. I said it meant I would love him until the day I died. Even if we couldn't be together.

...dramatic? Yes. But true.

It's been almost a year since that conversation and 8 months since we last saw each other; 5 months since we last spoke.

I wake up, look around my apartment and see him.

Every day I put on my 'signature' necklace and think of him.

I just think of him differently as time goes on and we don't speak.

And then I think...we deserve to do what I said we should.

Live. See. Understand.

So I am trying. Even when it requires a reminder.