Family Ties

My mother was married at the ripe age of 28. She had her first of two at 30.

My grandfather had his first of three children at 30.

My great-grandmother, and my namesake, had first of her four children at 30.

So, here I am, having just turned 29. On one hand, I feel free of the imaginary binding that said I had to be married at 28. When I met, and had an affair, with a 40 year-old when I was 28, I was simultaneously excited and frightened (my father was 40 when they were married). Now, I'm 29 and he's 41 and I feel a little relieved that I have dodged that bullet.

But the bullet is him, only, not the prospect of marrying. Not the future life with someone, the pitter patter and all that. I want to get married. I desperately want to have children. And yet. . .

I see what my married friends have and do, and what my parented friends have and do, and for the most part I am not envious. Yes, it would be handy to have someone around to help me fix the ceiling fan, or to take out the trash, or to yell at me for not doing the dishes. But to check in with someone, always, to feel my personal and professional life (after hours) is in direct competition with that someone, to handle the resentment and the checking in and the constant accountability. I have the freedom now to make decisions on a whim, to change my mind, to be selfish.

Most days, I still doubt I'll meet someone I want to marry who also wants to marry me. I know that's trite and everyone else tells me that I'm silly and that's what they thought until they met The One. But it's still how I feel.

More than anything, I worry that I don't actually want to be a wife as much as I want to be a mother. Nothing is less attractive than a woman who doesn't need you, right?

I've got one more year to have a baby. And while I know THAT is silly, based on the genetics, I still seem to believe it.

Resisting Temptation

It has been a strange few weeks. It's more than me just being "back in the game." It's like I'm back, but on steroids. I wonder if this is simply the confidence of getting older and knowing myself and that I'm great, or if it's something else.

First, there was the liar. Met him in a bar, making a bet about who was older in exchange for a cigarette. He managed to guess exactly the right year, claiming to be exactly my age. And he was cute. And charming. And a good dancer. And, let's face it, I'd been drinking.

So, one thing lead to another, there was a visit to Ms. Mae's, and then it was pouring outside. All of a sudden, we're hot and heavy in a downpour in his backyard.

Hours later, in his bedroom, naked and smoking cigarettes out the window, he says, "So I lied about something..."

Turns out he's 23. All of a sudden, I'm a cougar, except I'm not old enough to be a cougar. And instead of being angry, or leaving, or anything, I just laughed and enjoyed it. And when he tracked me down on Facebook (21st century dating what it is), I wasn't disappointed - just added him as a friend and let him booty text me. Haven't taken advantage of him yet, but it's fun to have one in the bag.


Not two weeks later, my Married Friends had a college buddy in town visiting for Halloween. We had an initial very clear attraction, and I made a playful plan with Wifey to seduce him. Purely to assist them in their attempt to convince him to move to our great city. The next night, I went to their house for the Saints game. After a couple or eight drinks, and on our second or third smoke break, I gave him my 20 minute Joseph Campbell-style life coaching session... and had totally "split his wig." I challenged him to take control of his life. To find the thing that made him happy, and go after it. And it was almost as if I gave him permission to "follow his bliss."

And yes, I knew he had a girlfriend, and no, I didn't particularly care. He needed to be kissed after that, so there it was. The one kiss led to a series of kisses, and a night full of kisses and caresses and no sex. Because I didn't need to, and I knew he couldn't handle it. I had upended his worldview, and it just didn't seem fair to upend his sexview. He was already pretty amazed that I would touch myself while he was in the bathroom.


There are some other little flirtations in there. Other friend's dates. Twitter friends.


I adore all of them, and am enraptured with none of them. They are all resistible.

And yes, when it turned out the Gambler was coming to the same place I was some weeks ago... I fled. I wasn't ready. Is this me not being interested in people interested in me? Getting laid is important, and worth it. And even with the Insurance Adjuster from Columbia, I made a conscious choice to be Present, and enjoy it, and stop thinking I Knew More than he did -- because all that did was keep me distant from him.

I wonder if I'm just ready now. Maybe I have just finally adapted to adult dating.

Class

It's been a long couple weeks. Clearly.

I went back to yoga today. My favorite amazing teacher was back.

He is not what you would expect. If you saw him walking down the street you'd think... long-haired, hippie who needs a shower. Maybe not the shower part. He's not "built." And yet he makes every pose look as effortless as a stroll on the beach. He has a sense of humor about everything, and this kind of forgiving tone of voice that reminds you: slow down. Stay on the 50 year plan. It's called a "practice" for a reason.

And he's all woo-woo of course, so if you don't like woo-woo, just skip to the end or something.

There is a theme every month at this studio. Latest theme: the power of the story. He integrated some Celtic mythology and stories today.. which was nice. Instead of setting a usual "intention," he invited us to offer a blessing. To ourselves.

"May I release my need to control. May I love everything as it is, and may I love everyone exactly as they are."


And it was a tough class. Apparently my back is a wreck. Poses that usually I can do with no effort - Warrior 3 to Half Moon, for example - sent me into a tail spin. Standing from balances left me lightheated. There was one moment I almost thought I might throw up. THAT is not normal. Dizziness, retiring to child... those are not unusual. But three or four times during a class... that is unusual.

But I kept just repeating that blessing. May I release the need to control. May I love this body right where it is. That also meant finding my edge in poses I have feared... Resting in a pose of discomfort - at the moment of challenge - not pushing past it or backing off. Just getting to that point of growth and sitting in it. Witnessing it.

I have been trying to get there with my feelings for days - not trying to change them, not trying to fix it. But simply witnessing them - recognizing them. Letting them live in here with me for a while.


By the time we got to backbends at the end of class, I knew better than to go into full wheel. My back sent the message. I was just gonna love it, and witness it.

And then in Savasana... tears. Genuine weeping. My heart is broken.

But more than that -- I loved myself, right there. Just as I was. For being unable to fix it. For having a heart so big it should be locked away. Just let go of controlling any of it, and loved myself.

I got out of the studio as quick as possible, not quite sure what would come next.


I have been left with a few thoughts, of late. The first is a collage I found ages ago:


The second is my favorite Storypeople. The text:

"He told me one time he forgot himself & his heart opened up like a door with a loose latch & he tried for days to put it all back in proper order but finally he gave up & left it all jumbled up there in a pile & loved everything equally."


Here's to loving it all equally.

Charity

It's tough.

This whole man-woman thing.

I had my first Really Good hour in about a week tonight. I had a great meeting with a bunch of young folks doing good things. They're young enough to have hope, and work hard, and old enough to get frustrated. It's the learning thing that's so good.

And I left reminded of why I love what I do. Getting to introduce people, make connections, help make things better. Help them.

I got out of the meeting and had missed texts and calls and voicemails... including one from my favorite two year old. All of it made me smile.

And yet.


There was no one for me to call and tell about this wonderful meeting. Just like there was no one on Monday to just be there. I have great friends, and loving family, but everyone is appropriately focused on their own thing.

I wanted to call Kenny. And I knew then that what I had been doing was right. I told myself two days ago that I needed some time, some distance from that for it all to settle. I have put as much energy in as I can, for now - and it seems I have run out of energy for myself.

That's the rub, really. Even now, I get a call from oldest friend N-, who has finally left her boyfriend. She needs a lot right now, and I simply haven't much to give. I took a little from her, which, in a way, is new for me. It was good.


In the end, what do I do? You guessed right. Call Kenny. And again, it's good to be reassured: he has absolutely nothing to give right now either. And without realizing what he was saying, he confirmed for me everything I was thinking. "Women know what they're doing, because they're women."

"Yes, but we want to believe that we're wrong," I said.

So I know, I see it. The Right thing to do is step away. From a lot of this. To be enough for myself, right now. Only for myself. It is hard to do when you draw your own worth from what you can give other people ("you only have as much as you can give away," right?)

But right now, I haven't got much to give away.

you + me = same person

I just realized why I have to keep Kenny.

I DO, in fact, see myself in him. It's scary. It's terrifying. It makes me face my own challenges - my own addiction. I can't give him any advice I won't take myself.


I broke the rule today. I gave him the link to the blog. So, hi Kenny. If you come back again, that is. I broke the rule for you. It was probably stupid, and certainly selfish. But you'll learn that about me - I am ultimately very selfish.


But by breaking the rule, I got a clue. He sent me his blog. (Awww, aren't we sweet? Just like trading diaries with sweet S- in sixth grade. Aw.)

This is the important thing I learned, from one simple entry: we both are tragically narcissistic and think we alone have control of everything - of other people, of ourselves, of the world.

He thought he could control a student. He thought if he gave her enough, was a perfect teacher, went out of his way, focused on her -- that she could change. He thought that his will alone would fix it. That he had control.

His own parallel: a poker game. I won't begin to admit that I understood all his card shark lingo, but I got the gist: He's got a 90% chance of his cards being the best ones at the table; pair of 5s. Cards hit the table: 2 5 8. He played accordingly. He's got three of a kind, right? But someone else at the table had equal odds: except his opponent had a pair of 8s. He had gone all in.


So. Here I am. With all this. With him. With life. With work. I go all in, thinking I am enough to win. That if I just play right, if I play just right - that I'll win.

I expect to be able to win, no matter the hand dealt. That if I say to him exactly the right way, exactly what he needs to hear, at exactly the right moment -- he will get help. He will be ok.

Ready for the worst part? That THEN he might be It.

I see 90% and think if I just Work Hard Enough, it'll be 100%. That my will and merit will override pure chance. This is the ultimate spoil of the American Dream. That's not a new thought, for sure. And the If I Am Just Good Enough thought... yeah, that's not new either. Neither is seeing what I want instead of what is there.


So none of this is new. So why does it all feel a little bit like a revelation? Because I've never seen it, quite like this, in another person. By seeing it in someone else, I might be able to see it in myself. Really see it.

Because I definitely haven't been able to see it on my own.


Or maybe I'm just looking for an excuse not to let him go.

The Thrill Is Gone.

Had brunch with Gatsby yesterday.

He called me out of the blue on Friday, at the end of what was a very rough week, and left a classic Gatsby Message. "I thought you should know I just finished a three-hour lunch at Commander's Palace. I'm in your beautiful town. Call me."

Ugh. My little heart raced, I got excited like a school girl from the surprise and shock - he was 6 weeks early?? - and I ran through all the possible scenarios in my mind.

After the initial joy, though, there I was, back to my traditional Friday night ritual (watching back-to-back episodes of Criminal Minds). And annoyed. Could he have warned me? Returned my phone call from a couple weeks back to say he would be in town? How could he be certain my weekend had room for him?

On top of the rollercoaster that was my silly, dramatic mini-intervention, fixated week: really? Gatsby? Give me a fucking break.

In the end I had to wait two days to see him. We met for Brunch on Sunday. I, of course, obsessed about what to wear, and how much makeup and all that silly girlish nonsense. Finally settled on an adorable designer dress I rarely have excuse to wear (God bless UAL). Went to get him. Had a lovely meal with mimosas and bloody marys and debris and grits and hollandaise and...

He is the same. He is Just the Same. Existential. Living only for the moments he can "fill his vessel." They had been to Harrah's ("what would your (gambler) friend say to the $400 I won on Thursday?"), Commander's, Visions, Lafitte's for The Purple... he was the Exact Same Gatsby.

And I saw him for everything he was, possibly for the first time in our relationship. There is nothing more to him. He's going hunting next week with friends, "Scott and Bobby Khan" - who will be pleased to shoot unsuspecting antelope from the window of their rented truck. It's quite illegal, he tells me. And he is thrilled to do it.

So almost two years later: the thrill is gone. I am no longer enamored with this reckless-yet-charming, boyish-faced womanizer. I am no longer intoxicated by his long eyelashes, his unreliable attention, his rule-breaking grandeur. He is only the surface.

Even now... I still want to believe there is more to him that this. That somewhere in that snarky, fun and funny exterior is a loving, full-hearted man. And yet, if after thirty-four years on the planet your idea of a good time is still strip clubs and craps, hunting down animals from a vehicle, anxiously awaiting the sausage they will become?

Yeah. The Thrill is Way Gone, Ladies and Gentlemen.


And it makes me sad. It has been a particularly sad weekend. I know I am in the rough two weeks. I know it has Been a rough two weeks. I feel in mourning for the love I had for him once. In mourning for the thrill. And I find myself still addicted to the unreliable flicker of something Good that comes from all of them... from Gatsby, from Kenny, from... a history of them.

I wish there were rehab for this.

A Different Kind of Gambling

It was a pretty perfect night. Went to yoga first, found some comfort about the whole "Kenny" situation. Met my dear married friends for sushi after, then we had ice cream.

At dinner, very wise S- said "Gambling is like the perfect addiction, because the high is totally erratic. There is no guarantee. But once you get it, you'll go back again and again for more, no matter how many times it fails you."

I nodded. I agreed.

And then he thought for a minute, and looked at me, and said "And he turns you into a gambler too."

I nodded. And then it hit me how right he was. How addicted I was to an erractic lover - to many erratic lovers. Those who make me happy once, then disappoint over and over again. And I give them too many chances to give me that little happiness. It was an interesting realization.


And then today, Kenny texted me. Clearly needed something. I missed the text(s) for hours, and then discovered them, asked him what's up.

"I've been up for a Long time. Wanted to know if I could nap at your house for a couple hours?"

And I knew what that meant. He later told me he had been up at 7am, and yes, he had been at the casino since then. All night he had been at a table. A dealer had brought him a sausage biscuit in the morning when he started his shift. He had played poker all. night. long.

And finally, by noon, he was done. Out. Exhausted.

"I can't. I want to talk more about it - in person - but I just can't."

About forty minutes later I got the text: "This is terrifying." He told me he was going to park his car in a safe place. He fell asleep, and when he woke up, a neighborhood homeless resident we all call "The Shaman" was walking by his car.

"Yes it is." I wrote back.

":panic:"

So I told him to come to my office, which he did. I hugged him, and he started to act all cool, and then pretty quickly said "I am really not ok. I'm not ok at all."

I sat downstairs with him, talking. Told him about the residential treatment program in LA for compulsive gamblers: it is 100% free to residents of Louisiana. This amazes me. He was hesitant. Admitted that he hadn't been happy in years, basically since he started gambling. And that he couldn't imagine what his parents would think. And he couldn't make any promises. And I sat with him. I didn't exactly take no for an answer. I told him he was "not off the Veritas-hook", but had to go upstairs to finish my work. He came and fell asleep on the futon.

When I woke him up after 5, when I was leaving, he said if I would not let him sleep in his car tonight, he would have a serious talk about it with me in the morning. I said, that plus: You must promise me you will go to one G.A. meeting. I made him shake on it. Look me in the eye.

I don't entirely believe him. I would drive him to Shreveport in the morning (except my car sucks) - I would do a lot of things to see that he gets help. But this is it.

I'm afraid of a lot of things - that he'll wake up in the middle of the night and leave. That I've been duped. Again. That in the morning he'll wake up and convince me somehow that he doesn't need to go. He's promised to go to a GA meeting. Isn't that enough?

At this point, I think I've done everything I can do. I will have a serious conversation in the morning. Give him his options, but stick to my guns. I am ready to cut him off if that's what needs to happen.

I just really hope not.

Repeat, repeat.

Sorry about that last string of similar posts written over and over. Although isn't it interesting to see the same story told three ways over three weeks? Right? Humor me.

Even though no one reads this but me, it's nice to occasionally come back and read months of realizations and consideration and ideas that I've written. To laugh at my own clever little jokes. To judge my own casual grammar mistakes.

I've learned a couple new things:

1. I may never learn. I get way too attached to people way too soon.
2. I'm in a hurry. Period. I rush things. It's almost impossible for me to slow down. It's almost Painful to slow down.
3. I'm funny.
4. I went to a "Phoenix Rising" yoga therapy session on Friday. I discovered how important security is to me. Safety, surety. I suppose I knew that already, but not in so many ways.

I don't know what else really, except it really is good to come back and read all these posts over and over again. I wish I were inspired to write more often about things other than how disappointed or brokenhearted the men in my life have left me.

Perhaps one day I will. Perhaps one day I've have more patience. Perhaps one day I'll love a man who doesn't disappoint or break my heart. Perhaps.

Well, there was that.

A month ago, I re-met this boy. We'll call him Kenny.

Kenny was enamored with my new haircut. He was also too young for me. When the 31 year old I'm dating is too young, 26 is too young too.

So he adds me as a friend on facebook. 21st century dating protocol being what it is... and we FB chat, then we start G-chatting... finally we progress to texting. Before I knew it I had spent every day with him for a week and he was my "bff" and then, all of a sudden, my soulmate.

There were some issues, sure. He was still too young. He was in a "rough spot" - between jobs, sleeping on a friend's couch, broke. But he had Potential. And God love him, he was so smart, and funny, and clever. And he came up with about 500 different puns on my name, which was really fun. My most favorite referenced a popular communist leader.


We tiptoed and then danced around and finally walked right up and acknowledged something had happened between us. Something romantic. "The irony is not lost on me that you are telling me what's best for me while you represent exactly the opposite." I bet him that he couldn't stay single until January 1st.

Here's the real irony: I made a bet with a compulsive gambler. A bet I secretly hoped he'd lose. What an idiot.

Because as soon as he came into some money, he disappeared into a self-described "off-the-radar bubble," and suddenly became elusive, evaporative. Made commitments and just bailed on them. Changed plans at any moment. Became simultaneously self-absorbed and self-abhorrent.

The hardest thing about it is walking away. Clean cuts. Clean separation. If I hear from him again, which is a big IF, I'll let him know my concern. How much I care. And that if he doesn't go to a program, I have no desire to see him again.

Nothing else I can do, really. Very hard to just let go and walk away. But it's both the best thing I can do for him, and the best thing I can do for me. Give him the space to come back here when he needs to, and be ready to be very clear when he does.

We had a beautiful weekend of pancakes, crossword puzzles and football. It was lovely, and I loved him. I still love him for that weekend, and for making me hopeful, even if it was never meant to be.

Same old Same old.

I've gotten myself all wrapped up in it again.

Did I mention I met my soulmate? I suppose I met him months ago, but really started getting to know him weeks ago. Like Two weeks.

And we started out being BFFs. And after knowing some things about his history, I made a bet with him: I bet you can't stay single until January 1st. Even better, I bet you can't stay single until your birthday (February 6th or 7th; I can't remember). The only conditions: you may have "meaningless" sex. One night stands and the like. You may not, however, call her the next day. You may not text her.

The spoils? Dinner, cooked a la Veritas. If you make it til your birthday, throw in a massage.

I made this bet nearly two weeks ago. I had no idea I would now want him to lose it. I always knew he was attractive, but I didn't think... I don't know.


So here I am, some weeks later, and after him "text-stalking" me last week, he has now left me alone all day. Why is it that I am afraid people will grow tired of me? We did Not have sex, but I did give him a BJ after which he suggested I write a book. Perhaps he simply realizes we both need some time away. Maybe, as he said last week, "you + me = same person."

We both need some distance. We both might be freaking out a bit.

Or maybe it's just me.

Twitterpated

Nothing on Twitter seems to matter.

Facebook either.

And it's not just exhaustion with the day to day nonsense. Well, it may be that too. It may be downright exhaustion at 4 am.

Is it still possible in my life to be in love with someone after only really getting to know them for one week?  It can't possibly be.  It can not possibly be.

How is it things that have been extaordinarily annoying in other people are now endearing, amusing? Am I just atwitter? No pun intended. No kissing, no touching, even, except a hug good night. Which is what Friends do.

Am I still simply drawn to the unavailable?  He is unavailable because of his circumstance, his... Humanity.  He's got much to do and I know it and yet.... How could I already be so entranced?

Part of me has grown weary of second guessing, questioning what's wrong - and instead wants to just "go with it." Despite the bet.  Ha!

Who bets the boy she likes that he can't stay single for 4 months?

My letter to Dawn Porter

I'm seeing this guy. Who's actually kind of useless. That's never happened, right?

He's a vegetarian. And a marathon runner. And very smart and all that and went to Harvard law...

Except he's USELESS. He wants someone to run his life. He recently told me his goal in life is to be that guy that everyone can call when they want someone to do something with... and he'll go. And try to have a good time, and make sure everyone else has a good time.

And he's also VERY confused about Buddhism, in that he thinks Buddhist detachment is about not wanting or needing anything at all, instead of simply being able to witness one's needs and wants and not be ruled by them. So consequently, he's trying to not want or need. Anything. And the other morning in bed, I say to him, "So if you don't want or need anything, where does that leave me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I want things from you. I don't really need things, but I want to see you, I _want_ you. And so forth. If you don't want anything, where does that leave me?"

"Huh. Now I'm all pensive," he says. Then I had to go to work.

So WHY am I telling you all this?


Because he's vaguely obsessed with you. And Prince. Which I think puts you in a pretty significant category.

And even though he doesn't deserve it, because he is useless, I think he would love a signed photo of you. I know he would, in fact.

I'd really appreciate that. "Dear Morgan, Stop being useless. Cheers, Dawn."

Well, it'd be great if you left out the middle part. But I figured you'd appreciate the laugh while you were flitting from LA to London.

:)

Veritas

Bidness

Time to start writing regularly again, I think.

What has happened since February? Another successful season of my little concert series. Very successful, I might add. I should ask for a raise successful. And stressful. Those 3-5 months really take it out of me. I was better this year, but it's still more than I can handle, I think. I don't Love it.

I think my boss needs to either run for public office or get pregnant so I can hire someone else to do this and take over her job. Oops, did I say that outloud? ;)

A Love Letter

Dear Kung-Fu-Boy/Martial Arts Instructor,

I'm sorry. And I miss you.

In a way, that's all I have to say. I think you know all the things that are behind the sentiment.

I have thought for hours about the things you said to me, in anger, out of pain, but also out of some level of understanding of me and the world in general.

I am still torn about the notion of "appreciating the things you have" vs. "comparing them to hopes and dreams." I guess, in the end, I think its possible to do both. I sought out yoga in my life to appreciate the little moments; to be more present. That part of me has always been around, but will always need cultivation.

When it comes to lovers, I have a history of getting involved with my fantasy of them and then being disappointed in their reality. I am tragically aware that I do this. But I've spent years knowing that I did it, and making myself painfully aware when I did it. I struggle to keep my eyes wide open and see people for who they are; and consequently to Love Them for who they are.

I doubted it for a minute, but have now had too many people who have known me for decades, some of them intimately; that having expectations is ok. And beyond that, my expectations are realistic. I'm not sure where the line for you is between "settling" and "appreciating what you have." But I do see where my "falling in love with a fantasy" would look like constantly judging and evaluating.

There are so many things that I like and love about you. There are a handful of things that annoyed me or turned me off. None of those things are what led to me leaving. It was an absence of something that is genuinely important to me. And perhaps it is deeply rooted in my own search for self-love and self-knowledge; perhaps I do divorce love and sex the way you say. But WHY I do it doesn't matter. I have found peace and comfort and love in sex before, and sex in peace and comfort and love.

I believe there are a number of things that draw people to one another; and they often are inextricably related. The joy of each person on earth is that your connection to them will be totally unique, like having 100 different levels on 3000 channels of a sound board -- the experience of each person will be totally different.

I am terrified, as you may know, that I am the only one standing between myself and happiness. You pushed that button in a huge way.

But here's what you don't know, maybe, about me: I am happy. I have happiness. I have fulfillment. I also have sadness. And jealousy. And anger. And confusion. I have all of them all the time.

Know that I will continue to look at all of this, and hope we will find a common place to love each other in our own way. And in the meanwhile, in this quiet window; I will miss our closeness. I will miss my confidante. I will miss someone who can protect me in a way no one else has been able. I will miss getting to love you.

Happy Friday the 13th. And Happy Valentine's Day.

CraZier than I thought

I'm not sure what the deal with me is. Except that a week ago I wasn't
ready to give this up and now I'm just " not that into him?"

I must be crazier than I thought.

My little heart is going pit-a-pat. I might have had too much coffee this morning.

Or it might be the Thing that is happening with the Martial Arts Instructor.

To recap: Over a year ago, we met, hit it off, text and emailed like crazy over a week, and then I met him in person and he was shorter than I expected and I simply wasn't as attracted to him as I thought I was and... it was over, like that.

We didn't talk for a while, and I avoided him, and he knew what had happened, and things just fell apart. We saw each other in the gym one day, and both of us were weirded out a little by it, but ... there it went.

After a year of here and there and some things and whatnot, we started spending a ton of time together and Here It Goes Again. Working out regularly led to me having a crush on him, and then a week of hot and heavy, an anticlimactic sexual encounter... and then done again.

And here I stupid am again, a month later, starting to feel very strongly for him again and us spending a lot of time together and going to see movies and crying and loving him.


That doesn't mean he's a good match for me, or that there aren't annoying things that make me want to kill him or that he's a good partner for me in our sleep rituals or that he'd be good at parties.

But I love spending time with him, and the more I do the more I want to see him and. What is this? Just a pretend boyfriend until I meet a real one?

A New Year

2009. Here we go.

So I went out with the Lawyer last night. We met sort of strangely (facebook was involved), but he is perfectly lovely. He's smart, educated, driven, attractive, a great kisser... But when we met for drinks in the afternoon and then had dinner, I said to him, "I like you, so I don't want to spend NYE with you." It's too significant too soon, rushes things, and makes someone jump to the sticking place.

Or, makes me jump right out. He is totally smitten, that is clear, and he should be. But he is not extraordinary; I don't think he's half a super power. I suppose only time with tell, and I will go slow and not push anything. He seems lovely, but...

It's funny to know things like this. Funny to know that the best way to kill something is to let it burn up too quickly. As Gatsby said, "Just wait and see what something will be."

As for that, my Trainer is on his way here, we'll have breakfast and then I'll come sort my house out, I suppose. He is not, afterall, moving to Michigan on a Veritas special. I suppose like him so much because I do not know where it's going, whereas with the Lawyer, I know to a minute.


As for resolutions? The money thing is up there. And 20# would be nice. The running of a marathon. Meeting new people instead of going back to the old. Mindful use of resources. And have even more fun, if such a thing is possible.