Mighty Aphrodite?

Dearest Aphrodite,

I have come to conclude that I would like to be in a relationship. Yes, I know this may come as a bit of a shock to you as it’s a bit of the same for me. It’s most likely a collision (of the inelastic kind) composed of any number of various disparate factors that has left me with this haunting feeling sticking to my person. But let me see if I might properly explain.

I spent the greater portion of the weekend working toward the goal of getting my apartment in shape for selling it once the market rebounds as has been projected toward the end of next year. It’s a good thing it’s going to take nearly another year for this idea promulgated by the collective real estate and financial services sector to manifest itself as it’s going to take me at least that long to get my apartment up to par for putting it on the market.

So this weekend, I once again ventured off into the land of spackling and sanding as I work toward repairing all the cracks and nail protrusions that have formed in the walls of my condominium unit over the past several years. While it can be a huge hassle for the most part to take care of these kinds of things, there is a part of me that enjoys the activity.

You see, my father was a carpenter and cabinet maker and did such work professionally. I have vivid memories from my childhood of watching him as he worked in his shop crafting in wood the latest creation inspired by his muses. Also, he would often take me on job sites when he was doing an install or providing some other kind of carpentry service to someone in need. I was ever fascinated with watching him work with his tools and hands as he brought to life the vision of both he and his clients.

Therefore, it would seem that I, in some strange way am hardwired like my father for the work and derive a sense of joy and accomplishment from it. The only drawback is that it can be rather time consuming and tedious. And but of course, the long stretches of activity that don’t engage the critical thinking and reasoning skills can lead to moments of me wandering aimlessly through the corridors of my own mind.

Which can be either a good or bad thing depending upon the day. As after all, an idle brain truly can be the devil’s workshop.

I think working on the nest, as it were, has stirred up the cocooning instinct in me. Also, I had a friend over on Sunday who I met through the massage group of which I’m a member. I met R. shortly after I graduated from massage school. I believe he answered a posting I put forth to the group looking for volunteers for clinic. But for whatever reason, he wasn’t able to volunteer in that capacity; however, I found him to be extremely engaging via email and eventually offered to provide him a massage for the practice and for the opportunity to meet him.

If I were to have a type, R. could not be anymore it. He’s got a stocky, but solid build. He’s extremely intelligent and has the most wickedly good sardonic sense of humor. The only problem—he’s hopelessly straight. Each time he and I get together I have such a good time. The conversation is never dull and he nearly always has a great story or two about something crazy going on in his life as well.

Each time as he’s preparing to leave my place the one thought I can’t seem to shake out of my head is this. Man, how I’d love to seriously f*ck the taste right out of your mouth.

And but of course, this last time was no exception.

What’s so funny about the situation is that in some strange way I really enjoy the weird sexual tension that we have with each other. The odd flirtation that we do with each other is fun. And my fear is that if we were to cross over into sexual relationship, it would in many ways, take the fun out of it. The mystery and forbidden nature seems a great deal more satisfying in a way than the thought of physical consummation.

However, what the experience has ignited in me is a desire to find someone like him to date.

It would seem despite all the joy I find in being a middle-aged man-whore, there is a part of me that would very much like to be in a relationship. I would like find someone with whom I might have a deeper connection other than just a tryst here and there. Some who I might call upon for support and understanding when I’m just too friggen tired to go on and need a little help.

Of course, it would take an extraordinary individual to put up with me and the insanity that is often my daily existence. It also doesn’t help that the kind of relationship I’m looking for is so far outside the norm, I wouldn’t even begin to know where to look for a similar individual. However, I have hope there might be *someone* out there of a similar bend who is seeking a partner.

I had a moment of a bit of cosmic irony today in regard to this idea. I signed onto Okay Cupid this afternoon to refresh my memory in regard to how the profiles are set up on that site. When I did so, dear OC presented me with the profile of someone he thought I might like. It was for the profile of T who I’ve written about in this blog. I’ve always had a bit of a thing for T but have never asked him out as I wasn’t sure what his relationship status might be.

After signing off of OC, I sent him a quick e-mail note to say that OC thinks I might like him, and that I think dear OC may have a point. And inquired as to whether he might like to have dinner sometime.

We’ll see how it goes.

So, do you think you might help me out with this relationship thing?

Sending you much love!

I dream a little dream of you...

Dearest W,

You’ve been on my mind a great deal as of late. So much so that I had the weirdest dream about you the other night. In the dream, I was on the phone with you. I don’t remember what the conversation was about nor any of the details associated with it. However, what I do remember is how vivid the dream and the fact that about halfway through our conversation I realized that I was speaking with you from the other side. When I questioned you about this fact, the line went dead, and I awoke with the strangest feeling about the dream and swearing I could feel your presence in the room.

The reason you are on my mind with such frequency is most likely due to any number of disparate factors. One being your upcoming memorial service. I have been receiving emails from your bother and daughter in regard to the service. For some reason, I’m feeling very ambivalent about it and have come to the decision not to attend. I hope you’ll not be too angry with me and somehow I get the impression that you won’t.

There is of course a bit of irony associated with hearing from your family when I did. You see, the other reason you have been on my mind lately has to do with the Incan-based shamanistic ceremony you turned me onto—despacho making.

The first weekend of October, I was inspired to do a despacho ceremony for varying reasons. One was for my dear friend J. who was to meet a gentlemen, with whom she’d been corresponding on the interwebs, roughly six hours from the moment I chose to do the despacho ceremony. The second despacho I chose to make was for me to attract love and a partner. In a truly misguided moment, I created the despacho with the hope of some how magically reuniting me and MMRFRO, however, since that moment I’ve come to realize it was such a foolish notion to wish such a thing. The last despacho I chose to make was for you and to honor your passing to the other side.

I had a most interesting syncronistic experience in regard to the one that I made for you. Nearly 12 hours (nearly to the second) after making the despacho, I got an email from your brother regarding your memorial service. I nearly dropped the Xoom from laughing when I got the message. As I mentioned at the begining of this letter, I doubt that I’ll attend your service.

I have come to this conclusion as I feel you and I had a relationship that was a) on a level that few ever experience and b) one that so few would understand without experiencing it themselves. So I don’t feel as tho’ I’d feel any kind of connection with your friends and family that will be attending the service. I prefer to celebrate the relationship we had in the connection I feel with you on a daily basis.

The other interesting synchronistic experience which I believe falls under the category of getting what one needs as opposed to what one wants is that I heard from a couple of friends that I’d not heard from in a while a few days after making the despachos. Both of whom wanted to set up a time to come over for massage and little catch up time.

One was a friend, double D., who lives way out in the boonies of western Maryland. We’d been trying for the past couple of month to find a time that would work for him to come over. Ironically, the one day that he was able to make it over was the same day T. was looking to come over as well. So it was a day of back to back massage and yackity shamaticity Saturday before last.

What was nice with double D. this time is that he stuck around after I gave him the massage to take me to dinner. I’ve always felt a little something, something with him. He couldn’t be more my stereotypical type. He’s a little shorter than I am and slightly stocky. Physically he reminds me very much of my first boyfriend J. but a bit taller and a bit broader. But his personality couldn’t be more different. Where J. was very into movies, almost obessively so, D. is not that much into movies and rarely sees any.

It’s funny. Now that I think about it. I’m not sure I’ve ever really discussed with D. what he enjoys regarding entertainment.

While I enjoyed spending the evening with double D. and it was nice to spend some time with him that lended itself to our relationship seeming to be something a little more substantial than a f-buddy type of thing. It was a moment earlier in the evening that had a much more profound effect upon me.

Before we headed out to dinner, we decided to have a little quality time with each other in the sack. We’d barely landed on the bed when double D. pounced on me and began to delicately pleasure me with his lips and tongue in an ever so delightful manner. Shortly thereafter, as I made the effort to change positions so I could return the favor. D pushed me gently back onto the bed and said, “Relax, let me take care of you for awhile.”

I was dumbfounded and at the same time deeply touched by his insistence of taking care of me. It’s very sad to say, but it was the first time in the thirty some years of my adult life that I’ve had someone act in such a manner with me.

But what was to follow, was ever more amazing. As often occurs, I had a difficult time getting there that evening. So much so, I didn’t think it was going happen, however, double D. was ever patient and determined to be successful in his mission. Therefore to facilitate this I decided to engage in fantasy to help me get there. This of course created a bit of a moral quandary within me as I wondered whether it was wrong to use another person to have an orgasm that you desperately wish someone else might provide. None-the-less, I imagined that I was banging the sh*t out of MMRFRO as double D. was pleasuring me.

As a result, I had the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. It was crazy wild. I could feel an intense heat building up within my body. As I got closer and closer to the edge it was as if I could feel the blood pounding from my heart and coursing through my veins. And when I got to the moment of release, it literally took my breath away. It truly was le petite mort as the French would say.

Maybe the moment I shared with double D. is a prime example of what I need to be looking for in my life. Rather than attempting to find quote/unquote love from one individual. Or in some preconceived form, perhaps instead I should be looking to spend time with guys such as double D. who are good, giving and game as Dan Savage would say. And feel the love in such moments as those.

Food for thought anyway.

As always, sending you much love!

Just a little bitter?

Dearest D.,

It’s been quite awhile since I’ve written a letter to you. I think mostly due to the fact that even I had grown tired of hearing myself blather on and on about how you hurt me. Tired of hearing about what a fake and phony I think you to be nearly each time I think of you. And as of late, I have been thinking about you often. For a couple of reasons, but the greatest being the approach of Valentine’s Day and your nearly perfect timing of irony cosmique and ditching me on that day two years ago now. Isn’t it funny how such things stick with us for so long? As that famous guy Unknown once said, “True Love burns the brightest, but the brightest flames leave the deepest scars.” But I’m not better—really!

But most of the reason that I’ve been thinking about you as of late is that fact that I’ve made the questionable decision, once again, to venture off into the deep end of the dating pool.  And without the benefit of water wings mind you—not exactly sure what I’m thinking here. However, in my own misguided way I’m committed to the crazy adventure. So I shall march forward to whatever fate may await me.

After all, have I any choice?

As I mentioned in a letter to Harry Houdini a couple of weeks ago, I recently met a gentleman who has me intrigued. We met Friday before last at the Hunan Gate over at Ballston for dinner as an initial meeting and to celebrate the recent Chinese New Year. I had quite a good time with him. Much to my surprise there were moments in the conversation that I found it rather difficult to keep up. This rarely ever happens with me, as I’m usually the one who leaves guys in the dust with my off-beat sense of humor and obscure pop culture references. But I have to admit he left me in the dust on a couple of occasions. Which I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed.

We agreed to meet at seven o’clock and he was a little late due to traffic being heavy. So when our appetizers arrived, he looked at me with all seriousness and said, “I have to ask you something.”

“Okay,” I answered.

“Knowing I was tardy. And if they had a fruit cup, might you have ordered it and enjoyed it before I arrived?”

I looked at him rather sheepishly and said, “Ummmm. I suppose I might have.”

He chuckled and said, “I’m sorry. Talk about your obscure references. High Anxiety.”

“Oh,” I chuckled, “I only saw it once, and it was a long, long time ago.”

The rest of the evening went along those lines with each of us pulling some strange pop culture reference out of our asses and making the other laugh. The most amazing thing I discovered about him is that he’s been to Burning Man several times. When he mentioned this fact it of course made me think of you.

A couple of days later he sent me an email thanking me for the fun time Friday evening and for being so forgiving of the fact that he’d been late. I sent him a return note thanking him as well and in that email complimented the photo that is in his google contact. I’d not noticed it before, and it’s a great photo of him in ‘80s style wrap around sunglasses. He sent me the funniest reply back stating that he’d not been wearing sunglasses so there must be some confusion on my part or perhaps I might be iStalking him.

I decided to play off the word stalking and replied with the subject heading, “…and About the Celery.” And in my reply I explained that I’d seen his photo in his google contact vCard. But mentioned, as you well know, that I do love a good stalking either cyber or otherwise as nothing seems to say, “I truly love you” quite as effectively. I nearly fell off the chair when I received his reply. It had the subject, “Re: Bunnicula”.

I read this and thought, WTF? So I immediately googled the word and discovered that Bunnicula is a character in a series of children’s books written by James Howe about a vampire bunny who sucks the life out the vegetables in the garden. One of books in the series is entitled, The Celery Stalks at Midnight. OMG I howled out loud as I was reading the Wikipedia entry.

Of course as I’m getting to know him, all I can think about is you. In the usual respect of why can’t he be you. Why couldn’t you have had the same kind of fun and carefree personality he has and maybe things would have turned out differently.

The other thing that I marvel about is the fact that you make such pretentious statements about working in the arts and you’re so quick to be critical about the creative efforts of others while making absolutely no effort to produce anything yourself. As well, I can’t recall even one time when you were speaking with me that you exhibited any kind of originality or creativity.

And Jonny Angel, who has a degree in computer science has shown far more creativity and originality in the month that I’ve know him than you did in the entire seven months you were speaking with me.

Why do you think that is?

I shared very briefly in an email to dear Jonny about you and joked in that email that I’m not bitter. I would love to believe it to be the truth. However, I know deep down inside I do remain bitter about what happened. And this is not due to your misguided supposition of it due to being wronged by you. It has far more to do with the fact of being lied to and hurt. Perhaps someday I shall let go of the bitterness.

I hope St. Valentine delivered much love to you today.



Love, Valor, and Discretion

Dear William,

I hope you don’t mind that I call you William. Given I’ve known you, or a least your work, for most of my adult life. I feel as tho’ I know you. I suppose it shouldn’t be so presumptuous of me to think because I know you through your work that I might treat you as a familiar. However, I have a feeling that you may not mind.

As I wrote in a letter to dear Dr. Sigmund Freud on Sunday, I was a bit of a tart last week and had a couple of gentlemen over for a little noon-time/afternoon delight. Both of the gentlemen were married. One of whom described himself as Bi and married and with each email seemed to feel the need to reiterate the fact that he needed assurance of discretion.

I assured him that his being Bi and married was not a big deal and neither was the need to be discrete. As we were playing the twenty questions game, once again he felt the need to ask me once again, “Are you sure you’re okay with the need for discretion? I sometimes shop in your neighborhood and if we’d run into each other. I’d hate for there to be a situation.”

As I read the last sentence of this email, a light bulb illuminated over my head. Each time I’ve seen the phrase “must be discreet” in an ad that’s been posted or an email from someone I’ve always assumed it meant they were afraid their dirty little secret might be shared with someone. Which I’ve always thought to be kind of odd, as how am I going to share it with anyone? Or why would I want to?

It never occurred to me  the issue is that should we see each other in public we mustn’t acknowledge each others presence. So I responded back to the affirmative with my gentleman friend that should we see each other in public it won’t be a problem. We won’t know each other.

Of course, this experience called to mind the speech by your dear friend Falstaff gives awakening from his own feigned death which includes a quote that is often misquoted as “Discretion is the better part of valor.”

To die is to be a counterfeit,
for he is but the counterfeit of
a man who hath not the life of a man;
but to counterfeit dying,
when a man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit,
but the true and perfect image of life indeed.
The better part of valor is discretion,
in the which better part I have sav’d my life.

Henry The Fourth, Part 1 Act 5, scene 4, 115–121

Falstaff has faked his own death to avoid being killed by the hand of King Henry IV. Falstaff essentially argues that cowardice is preferable to death. As such lofty goals of honor and valor mean nothing if one is a corpse.

Part of me can agree with dear Falstaff to a point. However, as I’ve considered his words and put them into the modern context of guys seeking to get a little M4M action on the DL. It’s left me with such a profound sense of sadness of how disconnected these guys are from their wives, lives, and themselves.

I couldn’t imagine living my life in such a manner.

However with that said, I heard the most interesting experience of a gentleman recently in Dan Savage’s Lovecast. He called in to tell Dan that he’d been dating a woman and when the relationship developed to the point that they had come to an agreement to stop seeing other people. He disclosed one of the other people he’d been seeing was a man. After he disclosed this she said she was not comfortable with the idea of dating a man who is Bisexual and broke up with him. Dan called him back to discuss the situation at greater length. And during the conversation the caller disclosed that this is not the first time this has happened.

I find it rather odd that women would be threatened by the thought of her significant other  or boyfriend having sex with another man. It would seem far more logical to me they would be more threatened by the thought of him having sex with another woman. However, I guess people will always find something to be threatened by if that’s an issue for them in relationships.

I was talking with a friend on Sunday who I massage semi-regularly; He totally gives me a major bone. I finally found a way to casually ask him if he’s straight or gay. He told me pretty much straight. As we were discussing issues around relationships and sexuality, I told him in some odd way, I’m kind of envious of Bisexual men. They have the opportunity to experience and enjoy all kinds of sex. Me, I’m hard wired one way—loving the cock.

So perhaps that is the better part of discretion. The ability to enjoy sex without limits, it’s unfortunate how we as a society impose limits of the sexual freedom of individuals who are bisexual and don’t allow them the opportunity to enjoy sexual expression to its fullest.

Anyway, thanks for the inspiration!

Thanks for the gifts!

Dearest D.,

Today is Boxing Day, a celebration of gifts and giving. The day itself is an apt metaphor for the thoughts and feelings that have been streaming through my consciousness in regard to you over the past several days. As you see, it’s once again the time of year that I design my New Year’s card and I once again find myself caught in the trap of considering whether or not to send you a card.

As I’ve churned the idea over and over in my mind, as well as the number of things I wish to express in a letter to be included with the card, I’m left with an uncanny mix of disparate feelings. Given I continue to feel a certain amount of hurt with regard to what happened between the two of us. There is a part of me that, of course, wants to strike out in a passive aggressive snarky manner and point out the inconsistencies in everything you said versus your behavior. However, I know such an approach would be as pointless and it would be a wasted effort of energy.

I say this due to the fact that you have any number of filters in place that would not only reject what I might say, but would also most likely use such an effort as an opportunity to continue to view your self as a victim of life and circumstances. While I would love to believe I might find a way to circumvent those filters and reach within you in such a way that you might understand the depth of meaning as to the message I wish to deliver. I realize you are in no way, shape, or form ready to hear any such message. Unless of course you’ve had some kind of profound transformative experience in the last couple of years, however the few random snippets of your writing I’ve found on the interwebs would indicated a situation quite to the contrary.

More than anything, it appears you continue to be as pompous, pretentious and criticizing as when you were speaking with me. However, that’s not a big surprise. Because as G., a gentleman with whom I have discussed you and the fact you share with me the family tradition of being an Adult Child of an Alcoholic (albeit you being a very unrecovered one) once said,

“Scary shit. I see it as the struggle with the darkside, either you shake it off your shoulders and move on to a more spiritual plane. Or it’ll drag one to the jumping off place clouded in dark vapors that allow one to think there is still some semblance of control. Unfortunately it is in [the perceived] control that the insanity keeps the sufferer in a state of unresponsive submittal till the end.”

I have little doubt you will be one of the many who suffers with the effects of the disease of alcoholism until the very end of your life. Again, unless you have a very profound and stark awakening before then, however, I’m not hopeful in that regard. As negative and depressing as that may sound, but that is the reality for most folks as it’s a very small minority who ever seeks recovery to heal from the abuse of his or her past. I will be eternally grateful for the fact that I found my way into recovery through the circumstance of a bad break up. I am extremely lucky that I experienced what is called a high bottom.

As I have sat over the past several days and considered whether to send you a New Year’s card (and letter), I’ve worked very hard to shift my perception and view my experience with you through a lens of gratitude. While it’s been difficult at moments, I have come to realize there are many things for which I am grateful that are a direct result from having met you and experiencing the rather difficult moments that were a part of it.

Mostly I am grateful for the fact that you’ve have become a muse. My brief encounter with you ignited within me a creative fire that continues to burn. I have, since meeting you two years ago, been inspired to explore photography again. And as a result have been shooting more in the past year than I have in prior years. Also, I have been inspired to write again as a result of the feelings of a love for life and all of its wondrous experiences that resulted from meeting you and a new found desire to share them with Universe.

I am grateful the pain that resulted from your punitive and condescending dismissal pushed me to my emotional and spiritual limits and precipitated a recapitulation to my spiritual practice and ignited the desire to reach a deeper understanding of myself and my self-created limitations in every area of my life. I learn more and more each day about myself. And with each day I get closer to returning to a place of fearlessness, quietude, and unconditional love that found within my self in my early 30s.

I am grateful for your efforts to make me feel insignificant and to blame for what happened that was part of your dismissal. Those efforts caused me to question my self-worth and motivations and in doing such I have come to realize you were wrong. I am not insignificant nor am I to blame for anything. That there is nothing I might have said or done that would have prevented the road blocks you continually erected. You were (and no doubt continue to be) an emotionally shut down and fearful individual.

I am grateful for the fact that you compromised my trust and left me feeling as though I may not be able to trust any guys in the future. As a result, I’ve need to work my way back to the understanding that I can indeed trust anyone upon first meeting them. And realize when they compromise my trust I can call them on it. And if they’re willing to own up to whatever has caused the situation and work on re-establishing trust. Great! However, if they instead try to engage in denial or blame me for the breach of trust, then I say AMF and articulate clearly why I’m saying good-bye. No drama, no regrets.

So I thank you D. I thank you for the many gifts you’ve given me. It is my hope that I’ll be able to articulate such should I decide to send you a New Year’s card.  Did you have a Merry Christmas? Mine was fabulous!

As always, sending you much love!

Behind the Falls - taken by TGL

Nothing Lasts Forever Text: Rumi – Vox: Lisa Bonet

Dearest D.,

Not that you believe in these types of things, as you made it quite clear to me when you were speaking with me that you don’t. However, today has been ripe with amazing synchronicities. One which gave me chills. But as I typically tend do, it seems that I’m putting the cart before the horse.

It began this morning with my weekly Tarot reading. For whatever reason, I was drawn to the Rumi Tarot to do the reading. It was a remarkable reading—all about getting in touch with shadow self to understand past circumstance and how they affect the present. Also there was an undercurrent of a reminder to nurture myself and to relax and enjoy sexual expression and intimacy.

This of course led me to thinking of you and the rather unfortunate experience I shared with you in that regard. One of the things that I’ve always thought rather strange when I consider our quote/unquote friendship in retrospect is the fact that you claimed to be an individual who is all about nourishment and sustenance. I don’t recall you ever making an iota of an effort to exhibit any such thing to me.

Actually it was quite the opposite. I can recall one time we had made tentative plans to get together and in the meantime I became ill. The day I called you to discuss what we might do, I explained that I had been bed-ridden for several days with vertigo and was a little unsure about doing anything strenuous but would be up for something low-key. Your response was, “I don’t know what to tell you. You’re the one who said you wanted to get together.”

No “I’m sorry to hear that you’ve been ill.” No “Is there anything I can do for you?” But rather, “I don’t know what to tell you.” Not so sure that qualifies as either nourishment or sustenance.

But then again as you mentioned on more than one occasion, you’re far from perfect.

As I began to do my Sunday morning chores this morning, I plugged into the i-Perd and began to listen to a favorite dance podcast from the Netherlands. As I was watering the plants, I began to wonder and consider why it was that I allowed myself to tolerate your somewhat neglectful, manipulative and abusive nature—a theme which has been all too common throughout my adult relationships.

There came a point while I was watering the plants the song that is included as part of this letter began to play on the i-Perd. Due to concentrating on the plants and the thoughts running through my head, I was only paying half attention to the music. However, there came a point for whatever reason that a lyric in the song caught my attention. So I began to listen closer. This is a Rumi poem, I thought to myself. I checked the artwork for the song and copied the title down quickly. Then did a quick Google search. Sure enough it is a poem by Rumi entitled, “Nothing Lasts Forever”.

After I finished watering the plants, I decided to run a few quick errands. I ran out to MicroCenter in Fairfax to return the copy of Windows 7 that I purchased yesterday due to discovering my current PC would not support the upgrade. When I got back from Fairfax, I decided to walk over to Ballston to pick up a loaf of bread at Panera to make French toast tomorrow morning as a holiday treat.

As I was walking through the hood, stopping to take photographs here and there, I was listening to the podcast that I’d listened to earlier today so as to hear the poem by Rumi again as I was out on my adventure in the ‘hood. At the moment I approached the intersection of North Stuart Street and Wilson Boulevard, on the west side of the street, I heard Lisa Bonet’s now familiar voice in my ears.

I crossed North Stuart Street and began to wait for the light on Wilson Boulevard to change and allow we impatient pedestrians to cross the street. As I looked to my right to check the status of the traffic light, the rather handsome gentleman standing next to me caught my eye.

Lisa Bonet continued to coo in my ear in regard to the timelessness nature of love and of what we need to remember in that regard.

As I looked closer I realized the gentleman standing next to me was someone with whom I’d been very infatuated many years ago. At first I wasn’t sure. But as I looked at him more closely, he turned to watch intently and scrutinize a motorcycle as it passed through the intersection while we stood waiting. It was then I was sure it was R. He didn’t recognize me.

Just as I was about the say, “Hey, I believe we’re ghosts from each other’s past.” the light changed and we crossed the street. I followed him into the mall but rather than awkwardly stalk him through the mall and find some lame way to initiate a conversation with him. I instead continued on my mission of buying bread from Panera.

After purchasing my bread and starting the walk home, I was struck with humor of the cosmic irony of the situation. R. like you was one of those guys completely clueless as to his manipulative and dysfunctional behavior. I too did with him a similar kind of dance I did with you. He was evasive about whatever feelings he might have had for me. He would say things such as, “I’m kinda attracted to you, but I’m not sure.” But I knew that one day he would understand that I was perfect for him and he’d feel the same way about me.

Riiiiight!

With him, as with you, I had such little regard for myself and my own value that I allowed him to get away treating me in such a crappy manner rather than end the friendship.

So why did I run into him today? It was in the cards. Today my past and present literally collided on a street corner. A moment in time to remind me of what I’ve accepted in the past with regard to dysfunctional relationships, but will no longer accept.

As always sending you much love!

Wag the dog...

Dearest B.,

One of my paternal uncles died last week on Sunday and I attended his memorial service last Saturday with the sis and my brother-in-law. I had mixed feelings about attending. However, in retrospect I’m extremely happy that I chose to attend the service.

I have been telling friends, or anyone who will listen for that matter, that there are few things in my life I can say I regret. However, while listening to my aunt give part of the eulogy I can now say there is something that I truly regret. And this is the fact that I didn’t make an effort to keep in touch with my Uncle W. and get to know him better when my parents divorced. He was a very cool man.

Let me see if I can explain.

As Aunt J. was giving her portion of the eulogy she shared some of her memories of uncle W. with the attendees of the service. As she went down the list of things about her brother that she loved and admired most, it was as if she was reading a list of characteristics about me.

She said as a child she loved to watch him “doodle” on pieces of paper drawing caricatures of fellow members of the high school baseball team. She mentioned that she admired his skill as she didn’t have it. While I don’t practice nearly as often as I might, I have the natural ability to draw as well and loved to draw as a child.

She shared that he had the most amazing sense of humor and loved to make others laugh. That he had a way of relaying a story of something that may have happened to him with impeccable delivery and in a way that always made whoever heard the story laugh with delight. I too have such a sense of humor and love to make others laugh and feel good.

One of the things Aunt J. said she admired the most about her brother was that he was generous to a fault. When he and his second wife moved to Myrtle Beach, he built a guest apartment on the property and it was always there a welcome for anyone who wished to visit. If anyone needed assistance in any way, and if he was able, he never hesitated to lend a hand. I too am generous to a fault. Often giving of myself and my time far more often than might be good for me, however, I could not imagine being any other way.

As Aunt J. continued to deliver her eulogy, and explain how Uncle W. had taken an interest in intarsia it became evermore apparent at the depths of his generosity. As she concluded her story about his interest in the woodworking technique by telling the attendees  that Uncle W. had made pieces for each of his siblings and their children.

It was then I began to sob.

When Aunt J. called the names for the bag that was for the sis and me, I walked up and the got bag for us. When I returned to my seat and opened the bag and retrieved my piece. I was greeted with the face in the photo above. That of a golden retriever—once again I burst into tears.

While Uncle W. had no way of knowing it, I have a bit of connection with golden retrievers. As a friend of mine who shares his name used to have two golden retrievers and has a tile on his kitchen counter with an image that is very similar to the piece of intarsia Uncle W. gave to me.

After she finished distributing the pieces of work to everyone, Aunt J. requested that everyone leave their pieces in the sanctuary so that anyone who wished to view them might do so. As everyone made their way down to the basement to have lunch, I stayed behind to view the pieces that Uncle W. had made.

While I viewed the various pieces that he’d made all sorts of memories came flooding into my consciousness. An image of a clown reminding me of my fear of clowns as a child. Stained glass with praying hands which brought to mind a drawing of the same in the house of his sister. A marlin,  a nearly perfect copy in miniature of one Uncle W. had on the wall of his den when I was child. With which of course I was utterly fascinated.

As I was getting into my truck to leave the memorial service, my brother-in-law asked what I thought the significance of the pieces that Uncle W. gave us might be. I told him our uncle hadn’t seen the sis and me in many years, so ours were most likely just random. I mentioned, however, that mine didn’t seem so random to me. And mentioned that my friend W. had golden retrievers at one time and was always telling me about them. So for me, the gift from Uncle W. was yet another example of the connections made within the collective unconscious.

On the memory card that was printed for Uncle W.’s memorial service there was this statement, “So if you need me, call and I will come. Though you can’t see or touch me, I’ll be near. And if you listen with your heart, you’ll hear all of my love around you soft and clear.”

I feel you near WGW.

Once again B. I miss you more than words can express.

Hot Butterfly! - Taken by TGL

Dearest D,

I got the most timely of messages (as the Universe always seems to send) the other day in part of an email push. I get daily email blasts from a website called Care2.com. They mined my email address from an e-card I got from a guy several months ago that he sent from their site. Normally, I would be rather pissed by such a circumstance. But, the email newsletters usually have really good information in them. So in the end it works out for the best.

In a newsletter sent out on the 29th of August, there was a link to an articled entitled “Get Closure By Licking an Envelope.” It’s an article about letting go of negative emotions by writing letters and putting them in envelopes and sealing them and the benefits of engaging in such an activity. Of course it made me think of you and the letters I’ve been writing to you.

There is a part of me who once again believes it’s time to stop writing letters to you. That perhaps by engaging in the activity, I’m keeping the negative emotions that I have attached to the memories of you alive and feeding energetically. However, there is also a part of me that doesn’t want to let go of you. Let go of the feelings of how much I enjoyed being around you and spending time with you.

In so many ways, I’m truly at a loss…

I want to let go of you but fuck it’s hard. I find myself unable to trust others and believe that I won’t get hurt again.

And of course the Universe, as it always does, seems to be playing with me at the moment. I say this as I’ve had a couple of rather unusual circumstances occur over the past couple of days.

On Monday, somewhat as a joke, and somewhat not, I posted an ad on Craigslist making reference to a line in the song be Ke$ha, Your Love is My Drug. I created a post with the title “Make My Heart Beat Like An 808 Drum” and in the text of the message made reference to the pet name I used to call you, the fact that your birthday was recently, and asked that you call me. Well. I got one hit from the posting and there was a bit of weird quantum entanglement associated with it.

It was from a guy who responded to the faux personal ad I created on Yahoo! personals to keep track of your activity there. He responded to my posting on Craigslist to say that his birthday was recently, he too just turned 40, and wondered who I might be seeking. I responded with my version of what happened between you and me and he ever so kindly wished for me that my heart might mend and my wish may come true. WTF?

Then today needing a little something-something to ease my bruised heart and my aching loins I put an ad on Craiglist for a quickie. I got a response from a gentleman named A. Who mentioned that he could be over in the afternoon after work if that was good. I responded to the affirmative that the afternoon would work.

He arrived at four and we spent the better part of an hour being sexually playful and enjoying the pleasure of bringing such to each other. I felt such an odd comfort with him. There was a natural flow with the give and take. No nervousness or awkwardness that I typically feel with someone.

He has the most beautiful blue eyes.

After he got dressed and was getting ready to leave, we gave each other a good long bear hug goodbye. He purred into my ear in the most sexy of ways as he pulled away, “I definitely want to see you again.”

“I would like that very much.” I said as I popped the deadbolt lock on the door and opened it for him to head off into the afternoon rush hour.

Perhaps if I’m lucky after all, my wish will come true.

As always sending you much love!

TGL
theghotilover@gmail.com
www.theghotiletters.com

P.S. Got the strangest keyword hit today to the biddy biddy blog. It was “encouraging words to pursue a[n] unavailable lover” I had to chuckle at the irony.

Could It B Love? by TGL

Dearest D.,

As of late, I have been contemplating this question. What is love? Particularly given I continue to hold onto thoughts and feelings with regard to you and what happened.

Since in my forty-some years I’ve only been in two brief long-term relationships. One that lasted just over a year and one that lasted just over two years. Each of them quite dysfunctional in its own way, it’s very difficult for me, from personal experience, to say what love may be.

However, as I mentioned to you whilst we were doing our little f*cked-up fandango, I am privileged and fortunate to have an amazing group of family and friends who have shown (and continue to show) me a great deal of support and love through the past several years. Individuals who’ve seen me through some extremely trying times (including the stay in the bunker) and have always treated me without judgment while showing me the greatest respect. It is they whom I depend upon to show me what love may be.

I spent a day weekend before last with two of these individuals.

On Sunday, Mother’s Day, I had the day free due to the fact, as I mentioned to you in a previous letter, my family needed celebrate the day later in the week. So I met my friends R&T at their place out in Fairfax and I rode with them out to “the farm” in Hillsboro. R. and his brother inherited the farm from his father about five years ago. While R.’s brother wishes to sell the farm due to needing the money. I get the feeling R. would rather keep the plantation as he loves the place despite the contentious relationship he had with his father.

I’d not seen the two of them in nearly six months since we went on vacation together to Lake Winnipesauskee, so through the hour long car ride we had lots to talk about. Given I’ve know them for 10 plus years. I feel comfortable sharing nearly everything about my life with them and them with me. Ours is truly a relationship of three people who love and care for each other.

Meanwhile, freeky moment of synchronicity here as I’m writing due to the fact I’m listening to Pandora.com as I write this letter. The song playing is “A Letter Elise” by The Cure. I had to laugh out loud as I heard it begin to play.

Okay back to the subject of love.

One of the reasons R. wanted to head up to the farm that day was because regular maintenance needed to be done (cutting the grass, checking the mail, checking the security camera video, etc.). While he and T. were cutting the grass, I cruised around the property with the digicams and took a bunch of photos. One of which is the photo above of the bee making love to a flower.

A couple days after taking the photos and having a moment to download them to the computer, I cropped the one above and emailed it off to R. with a note explaining that Mr. Bee was who I was chasing while he & T. where cutting grass. He sent the sweetest note back telling me how much he enjoyed seeing me. And also mentioned T. was in a good mood after I left and he attributed it to my company during the day on Sunday.

Once again, it was great to hear affirmation that I’m a lovable individual and that I have friends who love, accept and appreciate me for who I am. I think that may be what love is.

When I was perusing adverts on Craigslist the other day, I saw one that reminded me of you. It was written by a gentleman who stated that he was exhausted by his search for love. That he hoped to find someone to love in the manner he wished to love them. He was hoping to find someone with whom he might share his love of music and life. He also mentioned that he’d met many amazing souls but also wondered why he keeps screwing up.

I nearly responded to the advert. However, I resisted.

But one of the things I found to be rather curious about the advert was his statement that he wished to find someone whom he might love as he wished to love them. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’ve always thought the whole idea with love has to do with the other person. The goal with love was to find out what the other person likes, how they feel, and what brings them pleasure then give it to them.

I’m always amazed by the f*cked up beliefs people have about love.

I’m really pretty easy when it comes to being loved. Treat me with honesty and respect. Make an effort to truly listen to me when I speak and show signs of possibly remembering something I’ve mentioned. Do and say things that lead me to believe I’m a welcome distraction rather than an imposition.

How hard is it? Really?

Meanwhile, in the search for love, I’ve signed up with OkayCupid. I need to finish to profile. I’m trying to remain hopeful.

As always sending you much love!

Please don't talk about love tonight...

Dearest D.,

What an incredible weekend. I don’t think it might be possible for me to feel anymore connected to the Universe than I do presently.

As I mentioned to R. in a letter a few weeks ago, this was the weekend I signed up to do the drumming workshop with Toby Christensen at Sacred Circle Bookstore. So Friday evening at 7 p.m., I joined about 19 other fellow drummers to pound the goatskin at the bookstore. As before, it was an amazing experience. I think ever more this time.

I’m not sure why. Whether it was due to the makeup of the group, which was a little different this time. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I’m in a different place now than I was the last time. Or maybe because I now have a Djembe drum to play which is vastly different than playing the hoop drum that I took with me before.

There is something spiritually primal about banging on the Djembe with your hands. I have to agree with the Dagara people (at least what I know according to Mr. Christensen), playing the Djembe is like communing with the great mother. The evening of drumming has certainly left me in a place of profound peace. A place I’ve not felt in quite a long time.

Also this weekend,  I took the Introduction to Thai Massage at the Thai Institute here in Arlington, I’ve been trying to attend for about five months. I cancelled the first time due to not feeling well when I was originally scheduled to take the class in November. Then the weekend I was to take it in February we got another one of those weekend snow storms of which we got a few this winter. So finally, yesterday from 8:30 to 6:00 I was immersed in the world of Thai Massage and Thai culture. I look forward to going back and taking the full course in basic Thai Massage.

There were two things that were the theme of this weekend—magic and metta. While the first one is most likely pretty obvious to most, the latter may not be to anyone other than fellow Buddhist who may be reading this letter. Metta is a Pali word with the multi-meaning of loving-kindness, friendliness, goodwill, benevolence, fellowship, amity, concord, inoffensiveness and non-violence.

On Friday evening, Toby opened the healing circle with the thought that the evening was to be about magic. The magic of healing achieved through playing the Djembe individually, as well as the power of healing and magic through the communal playing. He shared with each of us that it was the intention of healing held by the members of the circle and act of drumming together that would give the greatest power to the evening we were about to spend together. It truly was magical.

As part of the workshop, Toby did a brief healing drumming session over each of us. During that session we were to set an intention of something we wish for ourselves. As I laid on the floor with Toby drumming over me, it was my intention as part of the healing ceremony to let go of you completely (and the associated pain) and attract a loving partner into my life. I’ve set the intention, so I must allow the Universe to do its work and stay out of the way. I look forward to the next time Toby is in town and that I am able to attend another one of his workshops and be able to say. As a result of your work, I’ve manifested the loving partner I’ve always desired.

However, the greatest take away got from this busy weekend is the reminder from David, the owner and instructor at the Thai Institute. His lecture on metta and how important the idea is culturally to the Thai people really hit home for me.  And helped me realize what has been lacking in my life lately. Loving kindness is after all probably the fundamental tenant of Buddhism.

I’m reminded of a concept taught by Ester and Jerry Hicks the godparents of the Law of Attraction moment. They teach a concept called the Art of Allowing. And in the lecture I have by them, Abraham (a channeled entity) says that allowing another to be who they are, and do what they do without judgment or the need to manipulate is not just tolerating the individual or the circumstance. It’s looking at that person and understanding and accepting them for who they are unconditionally. Realizing they need to experience whatever situation or make the choices they need to make to understand and know themselves better (or not).

That to me is a great deal of what living a life filled with metta is all about. It’s allowing others to exist as they may and to show them as must respect as I’d show the Dali Lama or any other wise person.

So how deep is my love?

As I move forward from this weekend filled to the brim with metta, can I carry it forward? Can I, as I’ve intended, let go of you with metta. Can I release the pain I feel as a result of what happened with you and I and say, “Thank you. I’m grateful for this pain as it reminds me that I’m human. Thank for this pain, as it reminds me to take the risk to feel great love for someone, there is the risk that one might feel great pain.”

And as trite as the cliché may sound, it is better to have loved and lost than to never have felt love at all.

Today I once again consulted with Spirit about sending you the card I sent the rest of my friends and family. I was once again guided to send it to you. I send it with great love. I hope you enjoy it when you receive it.

Sending you much metta.

eg
theghotilover@gmail.com
www.theghotiletters.com
@EroGhoti