Day 26: Sliding Doors

I’m not sure where to begin, what to exclude, include- what I’m even doing haha.  It’s late, and in the past 24 hours, I have invited a young man who works in my building to have lunch with me, gone on date number 4/5 with the architect, read the palms of strangers on the subway, essentially confessed my crush to el hefe, and, through another series of unpredictable accidental events, had what appears to be an encounter of significance with destiny.

Left the house in a bit of a rush, things always take longer than I expect them to.  When I get to the subway, I realize I had forgotten my MetroCard and the machines were down.  I thought to jump the turnstile, then noticed some other riders pay this man for a swipe so I did the same.  On the train, fixing my face, the man across from me watching- I’m pretty sure at some point he said I love you. That’s sweet, and creepy.  Transfer at Fulton, waiting on an express train, I notice a well kept man reading the Times.  Make my way toward him, we smile.   On the train, we are standing close, bodies touching.  I can feel the chemistry beaker smoking.  One stop later I see the local train and decide to catch it, even though I could have waited another few stops to transfer, perhaps for the chance to speak to Bunson, but I moved before thinking it through and found myself sitting on the local for at least 7 minutes, watching 2 other express trains come and go.  Sighhh.  Going to be later than I thought.  Planning to meet my friend at 33rd st, I text her to say maybe we should just meet at 14th.  Cellular services comes in and out underground.  Come 14th, I consider getting off- then decide to stay with the original plan and go to 33rd.  People pouring out; others rushing in, like the sea.  Life, even on the subways, imitating nature, soothes me.  A man who appears about my age is asking for some help- his voice is shaking, he seems embarrassed and sincere- homeless, hungry- he has the eyes of someone who has hurt a lot.  He’s holding on to a high hang rail on either side, his coat like bat wings.  I am not afraid of what people will think when I give people money anymore.  Two dollars, however he chooses to use it, is not the thing that makes me naive or will leave me homeless, but may be the thing that gives him hope or a hot coffee, and that is money well spent.

He shifts his body and I notice that, sitting right behind him, is a man that I met months ago when I did the Landmark Forum, who I liked very much.  He and I were partners one afternoon in a very intimate exercise and I felt very open and warm with him.  I had wanted to stay in touch with him after the Forum, but I kept balking at the opportunity to get his number.  That’s when I first heard a version of the ‘hundred-dollar-in-the-wind’ theory: our Forum leader asked us how many times have you let that $100 bill just blow by you?  I decided then that I would ask him before the Forum ended; I had a perfect opportunity later that day, totally chickened out, and never saw him again.  A few days later, I googled him (don’t get judgy you would do it too) and found an email address.  I sent a carefully crafted, sincere email with my phone number- clicked send and hoped for the best.  I did not hear from him- this was late November 2013.  This man was/is so special that I had to at least try- and I promised myself that in the future I would not let someone like him blow away without jumping as high as I could to catch him.

Seeing him now on the train feels like a gift.  Like a second chance, like the Universe is calling my bluff.  I paused a moment, to take him in- every possible hesitation shouting simultaneously which made them all kind of hard to hear.  I stood up, handed some money to the man in need- exchanging blessings, and with my brightest smile I slid into the empty seat next to Hundred Dolla Bill, who looks up at me and gives me a huge smile of recognition.  He is a gifted conversationalist, and just such a pleasant and charming creature- there is not a single hint of discomfort or creepiness.  He tells me that before he left the house he had a strong intuition that he was going to run into somebody tonight, that he found himself moving through Union Square kind of on the look out.  I shrug, smile and say ‘Here I am.’  Before I can stop myself, I am telling him that I googled him and sent him an email all those months ago- because I was happy to meet him and didn’t want to lose touch with him after the Forum.  Kind and curious, he says he did not get it and asks what email I sent it to.  He then says something like ‘let me make it easy for you to reach me, here is my number’ ♥ !!!  The next stop is mine, we kiss on the cheek and off into the night I go.

Squeeeeeeallllll!!

Now what???

xxx

 

 

 

Days 24 & 25: Imperfection

Some feedback I have been given about this project:

“You should develop a street team and challenge others to participate!”

“Rom Com!”

“Indie Film!”

“Book Deal!”

“Marry the architect!”

“Sell the iPad pick up to Apple!”

“Join Tinder- it will make for more interesting stories.”

These are all great ideas; let’s linger on that last one.  Tinder, which I always call Grinder (hello ladies xoxo), might get this bitch into some trouble.  Where is the challenge or character building in Tinder?  Better stories from the swipe-n-fuck site? How insulting. No way.  It’s bad enough that some days I can only tell you about Missed Connections and Match because I am a giant punk weenie and can’t wrangle all these tasty bones the Universe keeps throwing my way.  Take this afternoon, par example: I was trying to open the door to the building where I teach yoga, it was raining, I was carrying approximately 40 bags and a cup of mint tea.  I was struggling with the door.  Someone bust through from the other side, and behold my weary eyes- there before me is a smiling, bedimpled, tall and curly headed darling.  What style!  What a smile!  And he looks GROWN, yummmm!  He says ‘oh, I am so so sorry’ and steps back, smiling that face ornament smile of his, opening the door for me like a civilized stallion would.  I caught this moment, as it was happening, I want you to know.  At least this time I could see it happening.  Then I choked on it!  and smiled and said ‘no, no! I’m so sorry, thank You so much for getting the door for me’ ha ha huh huh and we part ways chuckle-fucking huh ha ha and ha huh huh huhhhhhhhhOOO I suck at this.

I’m regressing; strong start and now my true colors are showing.

Match has been really active this week.  I opened a very sweet surprise message yesterday, literally the moment I was at another wits end with on-line dating.  This man ***appears to be quite well suited for me, tho, wait- let me not be negative.  He seems great.  Check out this cutie little banter we had:

(It is a picture of me adorning the sign at Adam Yauch park with flowers)

(I had checked out his profile- he’s a cutie pie in every way.  Funny, successful, dimples- referred to himself as a pizza bagel because he is Italian & Jewish (what a wonderful combination, meow!))

(He got my joke AND he liked it.  It’s on.)

So that’s fun, right?  I mean, CLEARLY we are both crazy 😉

Anyway, I left work a little early today to go to a gallery on the Lower East Side, with the goal of making new friends along the way, but honestly it was too cold for any of us to even look at each other. I’m not even sure how I found the show, I was in some sort of internet hole, scrolling through a blog- then I saw a profoundly beautiful series of images that were all sea and sky, ships, sailors, mermaid like women- all in those dusky blue grey purple-y dream hues.  Then the real clicking began.  Turns out, that they are 12 layer stencils (!!!) and they are featured in a show that just opened and is only up for another week.

I was especially determined to get to this show today because today is the anniversary of something significant in my life, and I wanted to take something that felt sort of sad and heavy and experience it as something beautiful, something that honored the memory.  This could not have been more perfect.  I decided while I was on my way that if there was a tattoo shop on the walk from the subway to the gallery, I would pop in and get a little tattoo that I had been wanting for some time.

Lo and behold, there was a tattoo shop less than a block from the gallery- don’t worry, I Yelped it! The gallery,  so sad to say, was closed- which is why I am not mentioning the name of the artist or the gallery because I hate to give them bad press. I will go back.

Walk into the tattoo parlor and discuss what I want with the artist.  He seems professional, sweet, benign, innocuous.  I warn him how much I hate being tattooed.  He, naturally, loves it.  He asks about the other ones that I have and wants to see them.  He’s an artist, and I am comfortable, so I think nothing of lifting up my shirt to show him my ribs and chest.  He is gentle handed, curious, and complementary.  We are at ease, laughing and talking.  What I notice the most about him is that he is so accepting, and he is not looking at me through a conventional beauty lens, which feels nice but also unmasking to me.

He is looking at my hands and I apologize for them- my palms have the lines of a thousand lifetimes and my hands are strong, masculine- and he tells me how beautiful they are, what an interesting story they tell.  He is not being creepy, I hope it doesn’t sound that way.  We have just plugged into each other quickly but gently, I never felt like he was being inauthentic or hitting on me at all.  As it goes, we discover we are both in recovery, which both explained and enhanced our easy, warm connection.  The work is quick, and clean, and I love everything about it.  Wouldn’t you know he has basically the same tattoo that I just got- a heart on the inside of the left ring finger- his with a K (King of Hearts). He gave me his number and mentioned his home group meeting happening tomorrow night, invited me to come to the meeting or stop at the shop to see him anytime.  We hugged and I blipped back out into the freezing evening, full of that tingly feeling like I just got somewhere I was absolutely supposed to be by what was a series of spontaneous events and interruptions. It just struck me as I am writing this that the artist has the same name as the person whom I share this anniversary with. It’s like Gods way of stroking me in those peaceful dream hues, remembering us fondly and assuring me that all is well, as it should be.  

I am in awe of this experience, and totally at peace.

xxx

Day 23: If You’re Not Ready for Love, You’re Not Ready for Life

I left my office shortly after writing my last post, all charged up on beet juice and sunshine.  Wouldn’t you know that within 2 blocks, walking right toward me but totally standing out from the crowd- illuminated as if he was walking on water- was a hubba hubba with toasted skin in slouchy but crisp whites and greys with aviators.  We both slowed down and made all kinds of space as we started to pass each other, he is mouthing WOW and I am saying DAYYYUUMMM.  No really, it was like a video- sunshine, breezes, ridiculously good looking people 😉

He says to me ‘you are gorgeous’ I gasp ‘so are you’ and by now we are walking backward and he is saying ‘how do I…’ as I turn to cross the street.  I know, I should be slapped.  Discombobulated, I go to cross the street again and realize the subway is right next to me, I think I hear someone calling out… I turn again and there he is saying ‘wait, what do I have to do to see you again?’

It was cute and awkward, he didn’t have his card, I took his number in my phone saying I will text you my number and we parted.  We may have hugged and kissed cheeks (oh, he also had an accent).  He said I hope to see you again soon.  I floated to my destination and sent him a text when I arrived.  Sadly that was almost 12 hours ago, no response.

I realize he gets to own this one.  But!  Thought you would like to know it happened, and prayer answered: he SHOWED ME it is THAT EASY 🙂  How exciting!

A life-long friend and huge supporter of all things ME (thank you, love you) sent me this video today, it moved me.  I want you to watch it, please- I think it will move you too.

who wants to meet up and kiss???  xxx

Day 22: Balk

Sigghhhhhhhh…

I got nothin.

I am going to double down today, though.  It has been the hardest thing, just walking up to someone and saying “Hey, I think you’re attractive.  Have dinner with me?”  It feels totally unnatural to do it without any lead conversation or context!  I am channeling my inner Robert Downey Jr, I am summoning the spirits of charm, courage, and friendliness, I am turning myself out to the street in exactly 90 minutes and I am NOT coming back in until I have approached at least 3 people (to make up for lost time).

Come back and read about it later.

xxx

Day 21: More, Please

When the Universe gives you exactly what you want, just say ‘thank you; more, please.’

If I had written this just 24 hours ago, it would have come out quite differently. I was ready to cancel all the things in my life that caused me to feel vulnerable or afraid.  I may have even partially convinced myself that most of the choices I had made up to this point were mistakes and that I should, like, move back in with my parents and set up an e-bay store for a paycheck.  Then I would never ever have to risk failure, disappointment or hurt again.  It usually takes me a moment or 2 to realize when reacting this way, that I am under the toxic spell of my hormones and so I should not believe the hype.  Let this be a reminder that feelings change.  Hang in, keep on ❤

I’m sitting in my favorite coffee shop in NYC waiting for my Match date to show up.  Its generally good form, when it comes to on-line dating, to move quickly to this coffee date point, I guess.  That’s what the people in the know tell me.  I have had only a few Match dates and honestly, it’s been kind of a shit show.  I have had a few endless texters.  This is one of the Pisces men I asked out the other day.  He’s very tall, I feel like he might be too large for this crowded little place.

This morning I had brunch and lingering mochas in the West Village sunshine with some of my favorite men and one of their mommas.  What a gift it is to meet the woman who gave birth to such a gorgeous and tremendous human!  It is one of those I love my life/I love New York City mornings. It is another beautiful day, sky so blue, moon still up; joy abounds.

Dates with the architect are ascending to an enchanting place.  It’s easy to enjoy him and with every moment I am more and more interested- in what he has to say, his mannerisms, how much there is to learn about this man and his life.   His level of physical affection is sympatico with mine- I like the way he touches me and it’s nice to feel like I am clearly ‘with’ someone when we are out together.  Not like it’s all rainbows, I am at times confused or insecure, and I don’t always agree with what he says.  There are some twitches regarding his aloofness; I am afraid of my emotional inadequacies, what if he grows to need me and it is too heavy or repulsive?

He said something about one of the hallmarks of a narcissist is always being late, when I was late- and I apologized and confessed that I am always late and really wanting to change.  He also mentioned that the last woman he dated was a narcissist; it sounds like he had a thing with her that looked a lot like what I had with my former long term lover… and that right there makes me think I am a narcissist!   I mean, look at this blog!!!  Now I am obsessing! There are things that people just don’t tell you about yourself, but they are absolutely remarking on these things behind your back.  Things such as: ‘she is a terrible dancer’ and ‘oooh, halitosis’ or ‘she is way too old to be wearing that’ and ‘TOTAL narcissist’.  You know I’m right.  (narcissist) Is this like the adage about alcoholics, you know ‘people who are not alcoholics do not wonder or worry if they are alcoholics’???  Shit.  Naturally, I turned to Google.  I’ve read up on it.  I’m concerned.  Tomorrow I will look into how to stop being one of these, and I will ask the people closest to me to answer those 4 questions in an email so that way they don’t feel bad about telling me the truth (narcissist, right?).  Those people are probably reading this: consider yourself warned.  According to what I read, if I really do suffer with this, then I will attack you in a narcissist rage if you upset my delusions about myself.  Double that warning.

Though I am not sure where he is at, I want to spend some time aloooooone  with him (l’architecte).  The city is weird this way- early intimate moments in public.  Kissing on subway platforms.  Holding hands, stroking necks and low backs.  Aye.  I am fine with taking things nice and slow with him, however…  I want a full on make out sesh, like, hair amuss, faces flushed, tugging, pressing, climbing, resisting, a full on face suck of a make out session.  I am going to invite him over this week, but… he is allergic to cats.  Been there before, the men I have been with figure it out.  A woman with a cat is like a dude with some video game system.  And if that won’t work, then maybe a long cab ride, the Staten Island Ferry, a dark movie theatre, his place, the park- honestly what the hell do the kids do?

What if the architect does not want to see me again?

My Match date walked in.  He’s kind of adorable.  Gear switch, over and out for now.

xxx

Day 20: Eeny, Meny, Miny, Mmmm… No.

Pretty night in the city.  Misty, warming up, waxing moon…  I spent hours in the bookstore after work, what an amusement park that place is.  It was difficult to maintain presence enough to notice the men milling about (it was like a well stocked bakery of cupcakes), but I did some smiling and some eye flirts.  For a while there was one man that I was in some kind of communication with- he was reading visual art books, I was lost in the gardening section; looking up to smile at each other, sweetly excusing ourselves moving past each other.  He slipped through my fingers,  that hundred dollar bill lost in the wind.

Determined not to miss another opportunity, I walked a few extra blocks just so I could pass people on the streets.  There was the very tall model looking man that I was certain would not even see me who gave me a warm half smile twinkle that caught me by surprise, but I didn’t catch it in time.  Crossing 5th ave I locked eyes with a very handsome older man who was walking in the opposite direction, he looked at me, turning his head as he was walking by, nodding and saying ‘good evening’ and like a dick I smiled and kept on walking.  It was raining!  We were in the middle of the street, give me a break!  Ughhh, then there was that man with the bicycle on the train yesterday morning that I totally missed- he gave me an opening with his repeated held eye contacts and smile, but I was slow to move.  Slapping my forehead.  I don’t care if it’s inefficient for my morning commute, I will ride in the opposite end of the train til I see that hunk again!

Then, waiting for the F, my angel appeared in the form of a tall, dark, maybe Turkish looking man, sort of traveling hipster look, so I assumed he was foreign.  What is with me creeping on the foreigners on the subways?!  There were all yellow and green lights- eye contact, smiles, same train car, ended up right next to each other- I definitely thought the stars were aligning.  It’s hilarious to me in hindsight, but I was actually baffled by his headphones!  I could not figure out a plan to initiate conversation with him because of his goddamn headphones.  HILARIOUS.  So, this 12 year old here decided to write a little note that said:

“Hey Headphones 🙂

If you are single, I would love to have dinner with you, you’re really attractive!

xo Mystupidname  (800)ASSHOLE”

As he is exiting the train, I catch his eye and hand him my note, with a smile.  (Brace yourself) I watched him stop to read the note, then drop it like a soiled tissue or chewed gum right into the dirty subway trashcan and keep on walkin.  He did not look back.  Shudder, teeth suck, wince!  God I hope the people I was still on the train with didn’t see that shit.  Peeeeee-uuuuuuke.

I’m fine.  Finishing up HoC right now with the kitty.  Ate some cheese and had some peppermint tea.  I’m ok.

Siggghhhhh, I’m sorry.  I don’t know what’s going on with me, my confidence is a little shaken, the old voices are coming back, I’m exhausted, I miss my long term lover, been trying out some new lipsticks, I don’t know…  I should probably ask my nurse friend for a B12 shot or something.  I think we are all a little fucked in the head right now, winter yielding to spring and spring having to fight for it.  I hate to be so boring.  I’m going plant-based all the way on Sunday and committing to a home yoga practice, it will keep me focused as we go through these next few weeks.  And it will help me get my glow back, not to mention help me to shed my winter blubber.

I have a date with the architect tomorrow that I’m excited and nervous about.  I hope he doesn’t put the moves on me too heavily, I want to keep my feet on the ground with this one.  I also have a Match date with a tall, handsome pug on Sunday.  I’m committed to find other men of interest this weekend too, I will meditate on this tomorrow- there is a lesson in this that I must see before I can move to the next level.  More but different sabotage patterns, wouldn’t you say?

Just want to conclude by completing the reference to the classic “Hundred Dollar in the Wind Theory” which suggests that:  you must reach for the hundred dollar bill if you are going to catch it!  if you do not catch it but keep on it’s trail, eventually it will lead you around a corner to the table where all the hundred dollar bills are stacked, just blowing away in the wind.

xxx

Day 19: From the Boudoir: In the Ladies Room

Winter 1999  

Kristen was an actress who grew up on Nantucket and came from a very wealthy family, we worked together at a bar.  I’m not sure why she worked at all, it was probably to practice acting.  Tall hourglass bottle blonde that smelled like Chanel No. 5 and used her laugh as an insult.  She had a ridiculously hot roommate who was a natural, airy platinum with perfect tits that everyone enjoyed because she was pleasant and easy in every way.  We were in the same solar system but they were a lot closer to the Sun.

Maggie was the bar owner’s girlfriend.  Another blonde, in curls; short and curvy like a compressed Scarlett Johansson- same mouth, same eyes.  Maggie painted these enormous acrylic paintings that hung in the bar- colorful abstract gardens in mostly primary colors, an evening or two and a nice bourbon memorialized.  She liked strong and varied drinks, always offering me sips of her mint juleps or Campari & soda, while I was working.  She liked the little straws and rocks glasses; always holding the drink with her elbows bent in, drink close to her face.  Maggie would show up and it was all hands on deck- the owner would tighten us all up- perfectly charming service delivered through hard work, bleach clean spaces.  They both had such magnetic, wide smiles; they both had glittery eyes and the expansive vocabularies of the well bred.  We were on the same ship but I was in the hull.

One night Kristen and I got drunk together after work and I seduced her in the bathroom.  I vividly remember the taste and smell of her, greedy and insistent, pulling my mouth to her body on the bathroom floor, the sounds of her surprise and delight; the glow of oxytocin in her eyes as I dressed her before we went back out to the bar.  I didn’t blink, nothing had changed for me.

How Maggie and I ended up in bed together I hardly remember.  On a slow Sunday night, she invited me to have a drink with her and that turned into more drinks at a different bar, also owned by her boyfriend.  The bartender was a gorgeous Middle Eastern man who knew both of us but did not realize we were lovers.  Techinically, we were not, yet- but there was no differentiating her sex from mine and I’m sure it seemed like we were deep in the steam and slip of an affair.  Maybe the owner knew, maybe he did not- the bartender didn’t care and was up for all of it- Maggie and I paid for nothing, the irony of being rich.  I know she and I spent some time together on the leather couch in the office while he was downstairs closing the bar.  There is very little I remember between there and being in the bartenders apartment on his Persian rug, pillows on the floor, Maggie refusing his penetration but wanting to do everything else that pleased me.  In my memory he was more of an accessory, doing a lot of rubbing and watching, directing mouths and hands, she and I were only for each other.  I have no idea when it ended or where I landed come morning.

Kristen started to hang around me more and told me she wanted to date.  She would act like a jealous girlfriend, like a wounded adolescent, if I was not giving her attention which irritated the shit out of me, but then sometimes when I would get drunk and she was there, wanting to fuck, I did not say no.  In my (few) undrunk moments, I was cold and clear in my lack of interest.  Maggie, on the other hand, had my full attention and devotion, but she was still in a relationship with my boss, though that did not stop her from pursuing me sexually; most of the time we were too intoxicated to hide it.  I remember many times stealing kisses, pushing her into a bathroom or a stairwell, biting her lips and pulling up her fitted thermal to reveal her unbound, beautiful breasts.  Maggie would squeal at the first touch, every time, cradling my head to her body, unbuttoning her pants for me to pull them off.  These moments tormented and broken, as I would have to get back to my job and she to being the first lady.  Kristen would huff by me, rolling her eyes and saying something wounded and cunty- I would just adjust my clothes, take a drink and reapply my lip gloss, focused.

When it was contained in our workplace, we had to behave- then one night the triangle ended up at a different bar and some drama popped off.  I got there first, with other friends- then Maggie showed up and stole the night. She captivated me every time, there was nothing I wanted more than more bourbon and more of her.  From habit, I knew she was shaved and naked under her Levis, I loved the way she talked and her teeth behind her full pink lips, the way she would put her hand under my skirt while listening.   We made frequent trips to the bar and to the bathroom- not having anything to get back to, any other way to be.  No one else was there, really.  We were in the back bathroom and I had Maggie leaning back against the wall, slid down on the toilet, her shirt up to her armpits and her jeans below her knees.  We could hear the sounds of the bar outside, that music and glittering clinkiness, voices and servers moving past.  I was on the floor; Maggie was purring and squirming, when someone started banging on the door.  We were so drunk on bourbon and each other, Maggie giggled said ‘one minute!!!’ and held the back of my head, getting lost again before the door got a violent yank-tug-yank-tug and with all her might it ripped open, off the hinges, Kristen lunging in, flush faced and wild.  Maggie and I sat up as Kristen yelled and flailed, demanding an explanation and not waiting to hear one, telling me what an awful person I was and noticing Maggie’s naked perfection, exploding into tears and running out, slamming the half hinged door behind her, Maggie’s giggle following her all the way home, into the cold night.

xxx

Days 17 & 18: La Femme Ethérée

words wordz mean things what do they mean from dictionary.reference.com

e·the·re·al [ih-theer-ee-uhl]  adjective

1. light, airy, or tenuous: an ethereal world created through the poetic

   imagination.

2. extremely delicate or refined: ethereal beauty.

3. heavenly or celestial: gone to his ethereal home.

4. of or pertaining to the upper regions of space.

5. Chemistry . pertaining to, containing, or resembling ethyl ether.

wom·an [woom-uhn]  noun, plural wom·en  [wim-in]

1. the female human being (distinguished from man ).

2. an adult female person.

3. a female attendant to a lady of rank.

4. a wife.

5. the nature, characteristics, or feelings often attributed to women;

   womanliness.

verb (used with object)

6. a sweetheart or paramour; mistress.

7. a female employee or representative: A woman from the real estate agency

   called.

8. a female person who cleans house, cooks, etc.; housekeeper: The woman

   will be in to clean today.

9. women collectively: Woman is no longer subordinate to man.

10. to put into the company of a woman.

11. to equip or staff with women.

12. Obsolete . to cause to act or yield like a woman.

adjective

13. of women; womanly.

14. female: a woman plumber.

Idioms

15. be one’s own woman, (of females) to be free from restrictions, control,

    or dictatorial influence; be independent.

In French [french]  adjective

1. of, pertaining to, or characteristic of France, its inhabitants, or

their language, culture, etc.: which has the effect elevating language and making it look and sound more beautiful and interesting than English, every time.

Honestly, these past 2 days I have reallllllly been avoiding you.  All I want to do is get in bed and watch the rest of House of Cards Season 2 while drinking peppermint tea and petting my kitty.  Heh.  Yes, yes- I’ve been doing the thing I said I would do- I’ve lined up a few dates this weekend and I’ve been asking people out on Match, but I have yet to just say ‘hey cutie, have dinner with me’. The week is not over. Also there have also been at least 2 times that I wanted to ask someone out but got scared. One was a beautiful woman and I punked because I assumed she was straight as an arrow. The other was a man I have hung out with in a group of friends that I find attractive but he occasionally comes to my yoga class so it’s unethical for me to hit on him. Yesterday was just a fucked up day. I became so withdrawn through the day, like a video of a flower blooming in reverse.  It was a nonspecific shadow, the slow and sure covering of clouds to change the atmosphere of an otherwise well lit day.  I kind of know why, or what triggered the storm- not that a bad day or dark mood requires an explanation.

There is a man I have known professionally for many years who I have always been attracted to but have always been boundaried and respectful toward because he has a family.  He is brilliant and devoted in everything he is committed to- his career, the people he serves, and his family. Who he is as a husband and father is perhaps what makes him most exceptional to me- the rest is stardust and chemistry. He has set the bar very high for men.  Sometimes when I pray for loves deliverance, I ask specifically for my own him (but not him-him). I mostly see his presence on earth and in my life as a gift, but there are times when the contrast he provides is sharp and severing, leaving me morose and self pitying for who I have not yet found, for those I have loved and lost, or for someone I sometimes fear is not going to show up.

It’s sort of complicated and misappropriated, the way I feel about him. I keep the energy field pretty clean between us- bramacharya, or the responsible containment of sexual energy, the way of the bhakta. I don’t feel guilty for these feelings- a mixture of pride and admiration for his success; care , curiosity and envy toward his family; caramel center of love and desire with the dark chocolate of circumstance binding the flavor of my affection toward him.  One of the great pleasures of being human; and one of the more refined exercises of maturity.  I will probably not be with him in this lifetime, and I am so okay with that.  But man, when he is sitting next to me for hours, nothing but an armrest between us, my mind can very easily flash to how natural it would be for him to rest his hand on my upper left thigh, or for one of these little whisper conversations we keep having to just as naturally be had in kisses and soft little moans. I snapped right back to reality and corrected my body language (knees pointing in his direction, whooops!) and said a Hail Mary. Made sure to whisper mouth to ear not face to face at that close range. Said another Hail Mary.

It’s fine, it’s all just fantasy.  It did make me feel sad.  Not sad about him, or guilty because I adore him- I’m sure his wife understands exactly why a woman would be captivated by him.  Reminds me of the Columbian and the discussions about polyamory- what it is to share love, and exalt that which is lovable and attractive in your partner, not be afraid someone else might steal it (as if it is something to possess!).  Nahhh, what made me sad that afternoon was just pure old loneliness!  Sometimes the presence of the absence overwhelms me.  Sometimes I worry that something went horribly wrong and maybe my person is not coming.  I read an article once about this feeling we can get- like this clear intuition that someone very significant is missing, this touch space of the parallel orbs.  Did you ever trip on that, that somewhere the choice you didn’t make is living itself out, and that you’re there too?  I don’t get it often, but when it happens, it’s similar to deja vu- moments of access to eternity.

I cried a little and got a mocha.  It was delicious, frothy.  I had to pack quickly and get on the road to come back home, and I gratefully had a few minutes to spend with one of my closest friends, who I stay with whenever I am in that city.  She and I are deep, spiritual people and we love each other like crazy, but we honestly spend most of our time together in a state of play, of joy, of being fully alive.  It’s my favorite.  She came to me as I was packing and said that a part of her just needed to say something to me about this project, her Mama-bear part; with tears in her eyes she just told me to be very careful because she could not take it if anything bad happened to me, as she wrapped her arms around me and held me tight.  I asked her what scared her, she told me that she was afraid of the crazy people out there- and she had been triggered by my date with the man who was having delusions (so was I) and by the story of what happened when I was young and loved a man who had a psychotic episode.  She said I know you are independent and smart but please be very careful.

This upset me too.  I guess in a way I had been behaving sort of carelessly with all this… or not, I don’t know. Admittedly, I have not been feeling exactly ‘available’ as I have been actively pursuing people.  It’s like the Pick Up Artist…  gasp!  How did I not think of this yet???  I have to watch this RIGHT NOW.  Thank you for directing me toward this inspiration!!

Fuck yeah Gemini Horoscope for week of March 6, 2014

In my dream, I was leading a pep rally for a stadium full of Geminis. “Your intensity brings you great pleasure,” I told them over the public address system. “You seek the company of people who love you to be inspired. You must be appreciated for your enthusiasm, never shamed. Your drive for excellence doesn’t stress you out, it relaxes you. I hereby give you license to laugh even louder and sing even stronger and think even smarter.” By now the crowd was cheering and I was bellowing. “It’s not cool to be cool,” I exulted. “It’s cool to be burning with a white-hot lust for life. You are rising to the next octave. You are playing harder than you have ever played.”

http://www.freewillastrology.com

Day 16: Must be the Season of the Fish

I got a real thing for Pisces.

No, really.  Like bordering on obsession.  My last 2 significant boyfriends were both Pisces, many of my finest lovers and friends have been Pisces, my favorite human being of all time, My Grandpa, is a Pisces, as is my godmother and the lovely Indian woman Lena who has been removing my unwanted hair by thread and wax for many years… I am just surrounded by these fishies.  I have often thought there was some deeper spiritual meaning to this because my name means ‘protector of the sea’ or ‘mermaid’, and I have always felt protective and nurturing and other-worldly in my affections for these souls.  Though astrologically, we are not the most auspicious of matches (Me = Sun Gemini, Rising Libra, Moon Scorpio), I guess there is something about it that vibes…

My destiny written by Yeats:

Sighhh.  Always forgetting in cruel happiness!

Today I thought it would be fun to try a new strategy on Match, reminding myself of the advice which started this whole thing in the first place: to alter my perception of dating and have a little fun!  Make up some silly shit, some games, conquests, RPG missions, who cares!  I decided to specify a search on Match as follows:  Men between the ages of 33-40, 10 miles from me, photos only profiles (who gets dates without them I wonder), 5’10 to 6’4, rarely to never drinks, and you guessed it, PISCES.  There were over 10 pages, encouraging! Among them, I selected 4 and sent thoughtful, cute messages asking them if they would like to meet for coffee some time.  Aaaannnnnd then I guess we will see what happens!

We are currently in Pisces, if you did not know that.  And there was just a new moon, which encourages a calm state of mind so that we can observe our emotions and motives without attaching to them.  From that space, we can begin to see ourselves and our lives more clearly, and become aware of a wider range of possibilities for what we can create.  Here is a link to a comprehensive and enchanting article about the New Moon in Pisces and how it may be of great service to you:

http://virgomagic.com/2014/02/28/pisces-new-moon-3/

Sure gives me a lot to think about.  Sending the sweetest blessings and love to my Fishies and all you other sea creatures here in the Water with me on this starry night—

xxx

Day 15: Hide and Go Seek

NYC Penn Station serves 600,000 people every day at a rate of 1,000 every 90 seconds.  Take that in.

I spent a lot of time there this afternoon, as I missed my train and chose to wait out the next one in a Starbucks on the lower level, in full-on prowl mode.  I *almost walked up to a man near the gate upstairs and just invited him to have a coffee with me, but that felt… intense.  I was under-caffienated and over-tired, not fast enough on my feet.  There was no… investment.

I sat down to catch up on some email and enjoy a big, dark coffee.  There was a big, dark man sitting next to me.  Heh.  He was on the phone, I was trying not to listen, just typing away and sipping happily.  I liked the way this man held his body, his modern and simple accessories; I liked that he jumped up to help when a woman spilled her latte; I liked the way he looked/not looked at me.  It would have been really easy to drop my new move right on him if he would just get off the phone.  His conversation was hard not to listen to, and I was waiting for it to END because there was a different conversation I was tryin to have.  Curious, he was processing a relationship issue and so I became less interested in him (because really, I don’t want to mess with that) and more interested in the issue.  Honestly I don’t remember now what it was, but it reminded me how difficult relationships can be and I felt very grateful that I was not in one.  Or not in THAT one…

I had a lovely conversation with the driver who brought me to the station and he said the secret to a long and happy marriage is just to make it work.  Oh.  Another driver told me last week that it is honesty and trust.  Ah-ha.  I talk to the drivers all the time about their families and relationships, it’s fascinating.  I’m not very good at small talk.  Actually, I ask everyone about their relationships, I want to hear their love story.  I learn a lot from this.  And people looooove to tell their stories.  I love mine too.  I find, that I even romance a story before a relationship germinates:  like how the architect and I met on Valentine’s Day, the first day of this project, how fucking cute would it be if we ended up together from there, hmmm?  Just saying.

I pay a lot of attention to people in relationships.  I study them, they fascinate me.  I mean, people in general fascinate me- but I am especially captivated by their intimate partnerships.  I’m sensitive to them, invested in them- I want to support them, be open to what they are and what they become.  Most of the people in my life have paired off and gotten on the Arc already.  Many of them are procreating.  Watching my brothers turn into husbands and fathers has blown me away.  Seeing my childhood girlfriends become mommies and step-mommies, wives; standing for some of the most important people on Earth as they make these commitments to each other; being in the room with a friend as she delivered her second baby at home at the break of day.  Holding steady as relationships are falling apart; watching years of resentment cause lovers to be snappy and impatient with each other, humorless and hovering for the attack.  Recently I was traveling with a couple that I care for deeply, and I was so touched to learn that he takes extra care to be helpful and patient in the morning because she is not a morning person, and she warmly and regularly expresses her appreciation for this.  In the company of another couple, as we were having fun and enjoying a meal together, I noticed that she was silly and lighthearted with me, but critical and condescending to him almost any time he spoke.  I often hear people speak of their partners as burdensome and tedious yet essential and irreplaceable.  I want one, I don’t want one at all.  It does not seem unreasonable to choose to have lovers, not boyfriends; to sexualize men and sexualize myself; to get freaked out and weird when someone is great and partner-worthy but to have sort of forgotten how to do that from doing too much of the other.

Good thing I trust God to handle all this shit.

I kept my eyes open while I moved through the station and made my way to the train.  I was wearing some double-take lipstick and my hair was extra large so I trusted they would see me if I saw them.  Lot’s of men waiting for women outside the restroom.  Not makin moves there.  Many Sunday afternoon couples in the station- I learned to keep an eye on the honey for a few minutes to see if he would be joined by a lady.  I turned around in line and a man looked at me, then my ass, then slowly back up to my eyes and I just turned around.  Noooo.

Where are you, lover?

Got on the train and sat next to a man who was tall and interesting looking- I didn’t initially feel that challenged or attracted but I was open to what might evolve over the next 2 hours.  Settling in, I notice the man diagonally across from me is very handsome and almost changed my seat but felt like that was awkward.  Handsome man gets up to let a woman into the window seat and I saw his butt crack, I didn’t know how to take that.  Then I noticed he had an eyebrow ring and thought what a pity.  Cunty, I know. Nothing happens the whole ride.  I got up and went all the way back to the cafe car, hoping to see someone, and not a single person struck me, except in the gross way.  Looks like it will be another night for me and the Match-bot.  Meh.

About 10 minutes before the ride ends, I start chatting with my seat mate, because I gotta make something happen.  He’s cute, interesting- works in a similar field.  There are little blips of possibility; he gives me his card and tells me to stay in touch, I suggest we have a drink sometime and that suits him enough.  When I stand up to get my bags, handsome diagonal gets up and says in a thick Italian accent ‘Please, let me get that for you’ as we are both reaching for it he gets close enough to me that his chest is in my face and I can smell him.  He is taller and more manly than I had observed, and my pheromones are responding to his in an unexpected way that is making me a little shy.  He hands me my bag and I thank him then exit the train and up the stairs.  He catches up to me quickly and insists on carrying my bag; he has those Italian brown eyes and a great nose, his facial hair and head hair all the same scruff length that makes me want to nuzzle him.  He’s sweet and handsome and his English is not great- is there anything sexier than an Italian man with a thick accent who smells like an Armani ad and is insistently chivalrous?  NO!  THERE IS NOT.  He is the Holy Grail of the Man Planet.  (I am wired to desire them; I can’t take those brown eyes and that soft oily skin and all that testosterone.  Big hands and deep voices, curly hair!  Often the exact right kind of crooked teeth!  Bravo, grazie, grazie, baci!) He lives in Italy but travels to NYC often for business, so I plainly asked him to have dinner with me the next time he is in the city and he accepted my invitation, gave me his card. I was so enamored with him I walked right past my friend who was picking me up, but she chased me down and broke the spell.  I forgave the eyebrow piercing for his Italianness.   What a day for a little hide and go seek to find my eccezionale quindici!

I emailed him to thank him for his help with my bag and state that I am looking forward to our dinner.  He quickly wrote back that he was so happy to meet me and that it is a pity he has to fly back to Italy on Tuesday.  Signed with ‘a kiss’, hubba hubba.  Such a pity, yesssss…

xxx