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
no i do not love you 