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Sometimes we all need perspective. We complain about our bad day, the traffic, the wait at the Starbucks… we curse our life. Our luck. Tonight they pulled Type Geek’s brother off of the machines. The constant transfusions that were keeping him alive, stopped. An IV drip kept him sedated and pain-free.

Meanwhile, I waited on impatient people. A Saturday night of delays, refires, wait times, and people who cursed their luck to get the table below the speaker or the beer 8 tickets deep behind 16 multi ingredient cocktails. They should thank the universe that they had the chance to wait for a table, to drink a beer or have their food refired. Someone somewhere isn’t so lucky. Someone is having their hand held as they slowly pass. Some painfully, some quietly, some alone, with no one to hold their hand and say good-bye, thank them for their friendship, their love, their existence.

We are all guilty of the complaints. Maybe for a few days, a week or even a month, we can consider that we have so much more than someone else and that getting the wrong drink from Starbucks is a small miniscule thing.

Hug the people you love. Tell them that they matter. Live your days because someone else can’t.

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I was meeting up with my ex girlfriend, the screenwriter, today for coffee when Cooper Fiennes texted me asking if I wanted to meet up and watch the Brazil-Chile match. Curious for them to meet each other, I told him to join us at my favorite cafe. She had heard about him and he, likewise. About 20 minutes later he walked in and she stumbled over herself for the first moments. She has deep-seated insecurities which makes meeting new people incredibly awkward for her.  He excused himself for the restroom and she was able to express her “oh my god”s and “holy shit”s regarding her impression of him. Once he arrived back at the table she was able to relax and speak comfortably with him.

Prior to C.F. , Screenwriter Girl had the best body of anyone I had been with. Unfortunately, her reasons behind the pristine physique were resulting from serious childhood sexual abuse trauma. A need to feel physically strong, since she is an emotional cripple. I care about her, but how do I say this? I was NEVER in love with her. She needed too much rescuing and I was already lost.  C.F.actually commented later on this. He said that there was something in her eyes that showed her traumas to the world. Even after she has gained physical strength, she has been unable to feel safe and heal. Her body is not a tool for fun and sport, as it is with C.F., this is their difference. Cooper Fiennes relishes sport of all types for how alive it makes him feel. The more his body aches, the more he pushes and challenges himself, the more alive and vibrant he feels. It’s incredibly sexy. Screenwriter Girl is trapped in her body, Cooper Fiennes uses his as an instrument of freedom.

I realized that the match had begun nearly twenty minutes prior and we really needed to get out the door and find a pub close by with food and the game. It was destined to be a good game, both teams are historically strong players with great coaches, so it could go either way. We left the cafe and said cheers to Screenwriter Girl and headed down the street. The Irish pub around the corner had air conditioning (THANK GOD!) and we found a seat right below the flat screen. 0-0 with a half hour in. We ordered some ciders, some food, and settled in. He pulled my stool closer to his and proceeded to act like a 14-year-old boy the entire match. You know, the “I poke you cause I like you” game? I love that he actually explains certain aspects of the game to me, things such as why there is a difference in the calls made by the English refs versus Spanish refs, what constitutes a yellow card or a foul, etc. He does it without my asking. While I have always liked International Football, I have watched it without knowing much about the game besides the obvious: ball goes into net equals goal. Dating C.F. has MANY benefits, apparently!!!

Brazil squashed Chile 3-0. It was a great game, but Chile could have played stronger. Not wanting to brave the heat, which was still nearly 35 degrees celsius/ 94 degrees farenheit , we had the waitress switch on Wimbledon for twenty minutes. Roddick had his ass handed to him by Yen-Hsun Lu and Capriati was rushed to the hospital for an accidental overdose. Between Capriati’s issues and Aggasi having been a meth user, who knew that Tennis could be so full of illicit behaviors?! It always seemed more refined some how. I guess when Tiger has a harem, Agassi smokes the pipe and Capriati abuses prescription pills, there is no such thing as refined sports anymore. Public figures are public figures and they all are susceptible to demons that fame can bring.

We wandered out, immediately wilted in the heat and decided to grab some ice cream for the stroll back to the train station. On the way he poked me no less than 30 times, and we stopped in 5 stores with air conditioning just to cool off for a few moments. We grabbed one more iced tea at Starbucks and sat chatting before parting ways on the street.

Meanwhile, I have been starting my period all day and annoyed that I couldn’t get a piece of ass if I begged. I’ve decided that hard to get is my new alter ego. If either of these boys want booty, they gotta work for it and jump through hoops, cause I’m not gonna be so easy anymore, damn it. Sigh, even if it means that I end up so sexually frustrated that I develop carpal tunnel from masturbating.

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The last few days have been rather interesting. If you have been reading chronologically, you already know that I finally got laid. Well, Mr. Bratty McLawyer is worse than any goddamn lesbian I ever dated. We had sex Wednesday night, Thursday I had errands and at one point he texted me and asked what I was doing, I explained that I was at a specialty grocery store. Now, just because this store is in his neighborhood, does NOT mean he should come and surprise me. Maybe he was so enamored by our mutual lack of orgasms that he needed to see me again, less than 12 hours from when he dropped me off at my home. So, he surprised me by turning a corner and appearing. Cute-ish, I guess. Now, the next day, I spent several hours consoling my ex girlfriend who is in an AWFUL relationship. After such an exhausting conversation with her there was a great need for a relaxing bath and the huge macaroon I had bought the night before. Stripped down, I stepped in. Within 45 seconds of settling into the tub and shoving a huge piece of the macaroon into my mouth, a text message came through.  Bratty McL was checking in, wondering what I was doing. Just stepped into a nice relaxing hot bath I replied. What are YOU doing, I asked back. His response aggravated the living hell out of me. “About to join you in the bath” he replied. Umm, wtf? Huh? THEN my buzzer rang. Are you fucking kidding me? Who comes over without an invitation?! I ended up getting out of the tub, dressing, and walking over to a local bar for a cocktail. Now, aside from the fact that he showed up uninvited, and pulled me from a relaxing soak, when the bill came, he had me chip in for my one cocktail.  Hmm, you think you might be able to buy me an $8 cocktail when you inconvenience me? Maybe? Grrr. Finally I get to go home…alone. Hours late, and not in the mood, he shows up on-line and starts instant messaging me. I had considered going out to a huge arts event that night, but after feeling run down and bombarded by other peoples psychic drama, the idea of a large group of strangers was less than appealing. I was bored though, so I strolled the online sites and found a deadly handsome man, who had just relocated from Barcelona, to chat with. He looked like a cross between Bradley Cooper and Ralph Fiennes and was utterly charming. As Mr. Cooper Fiennes and I were discussing meeting up the following day, I was trying to end my chat with Bratty McLawyer. I told him I was going to bed, he then asked to call me, so that he could say hear me say goodnight. Ugh, GAG. I told him that my phone was charging in the other room and that I was unable to call him at the moment, so a virtual goodnight would have to do. I could hear his whining tone in the way he typed his disappointed, “fine, okay, goodnight then.”  He is needy AND annoying. The self-righteous and condescending attitude hasn’t disappeared. After knowing that I love trip hop AND that I have numerous friends who are DJ’s, he suggested that surely I don’t really like DJ’s, since I appreciate serious musicians like Pat Methany? I must be joking.  Ok, now you must go away. Really?! So, electronic music ISN’T music now?! Really? Goodnight Bratty.

The next day I had an appointment across the river. I texted Cooper Fiennes to let him know that I would be out of my meeting by 2:30, if he was interested in grabbing a coffee then. The weather was amazing and the idea of great conversation on a patio with an attractive man was splendid. We met outside Starbucks. First impression in person… even sexier than he looks on-line. He is working in medicine, plays music, has great taste in music, including electronic acts, is stunning…with the type of bone structure that takes your breath away. So HOT. Always a pleasant surprise when the date is hotter than their pictures, especially when their pics are already pretty goddamn good! We walked around, laughed, talked music, talked business…both his and mine, talked art and his soon to be ex-wife. Amicable split, still good friends. Is he looking for love? Not particularly. He is in town for a residency fellowship and, in 6 months, he may move back to Spain. Hot summer fling with a sexy guy from Barcelona until then? Why the hell not?! We spent 4 hours together and I suddenly realized it was 6 pm. I was supposed to be back in the same neighborhood at 8 for my drinks and movie with Type Geek. I had to get home, wax, walk and feed the dog, change and get back to the same place I was at that very moment…in 2 hours. I bid adieu to Cooper Fiennes and hustled home.

I realized upon arriving home that not only did I NOT have enough time to wax, but that even if I did… my skin wouldn’t be relaxed anytime that evening. So, my “Just in case we end up making out hot and heavy” wax turned into a bathtub soak and …shudder…. shave. EEEK. I made it out the door and back to meet Type Geek around 8:15. Not too bad! Now, Type Geek has been rather shy with me. Interested, I have presumed, but shy. Not very physically aggressive. Granted, I haven’t been fully falling at his feet, but I have been leaving him openings. On our last date, I finally kissed him. I then told him that he didn’t need to wait for me to kiss him next time. He promised he wouldn’t. So, I was curious what would happen this evening.

He popped the wine and began making some snacks for us. We sat and chatted at the kitchen table, drinking wine, listening to music, occasionally googling something that came up in conversation…but never discussing the movie. I touched his arm or back or chest or head…several times, no moves. Sigh. Ok. FINE. Hours ticked by. We scrolled his iTunes library and laughed at some of the old school tunes he had, like stuff from Anthrax, whom I loved as a teenager. I’m standing 5 inches away from him. Is he just interested in me as a friend? If so, that’s fine… but what is going on here? At 1:5o am, roughly 5.5 hours since he picked me up at the train, I consider that all hope is lost. I resign myself to this. We joke about his unmanly amounts of shoes and he tells me of a pair that are so ghastly, his friends ridiculed him the only 2 times he wore them, so now, they live in the closet. I asked to see them and he retreated to the bedroom closet to find them. A minute goes by and I followed after. I climbed onto the bed and started petting his cat while he dug out the shoes. When they appeared, I agreed with the response of his friends. Just then, his cat runs off. I stay sprawled out on the bed. I am tired and the bed is really cozy… there is not incentive to leave. We keep chatting and then he begins picking cat hair off my shirt. In my mind I think, yeah, friends. He is picking cat hair off my shirt…not kissing me and here I am laying on his bed. 5 minutes of cat hair picking and he finally decides to kiss me. Bravo Type Geek!

He doesn’t stop at kissing me though… and I decide to go with it. He’s a really nice guy and a great kisser so I decide to ignore the physical road blocks I do have and just enjoy whatever is going to happen. Is he shooting for 2nd or 3rd base tonight? Within a half hour, I am mostly nude. Within an hour, I am singing the praises of all the great things he can do with his mouth and within an hour and a half… I am having sex again. Whoa. nothing for 6 months and then….2 men in 4 days?! EEEK! Ok, feeling a LITTLE trashy, but I will get over it. Especially since McBratty Lawyer is NOT getting anymore sex from me. The sun is coming up when we finish and we sleep for a few hours. His cat wakes me up by burrowing into the back of my thighs and overheating me from the sheer amount of warmth coming off its furry little body. Half awake but sleepy, I shuffle away from the cat and cozied into Type Geek’s chest, absent-mindedly petting his bare skin with my free hand as I laid there. Eventually the petting became mutual, and less absent-minded. After 2 hours of lazy but intense foreplay we went for a 2nd go around. Sunday morning sex truly is great, not having to get up and be anywhere, laying in bed naked for hours afterwards… what a relaxing way to spend a morning. We finally gave in and got out of bed. I needed to get home to my pooch and we both desperately needed some coffee so we got dressed, ran to the Whole Foods, grabbed some coffee and then he gave me a ride home before venturing out for his afternoon bike ride with friends.

I honestly did not think that Type Geek would come through last night. I especially did NOT think he would venture towards sex, since we hadn’t even had a hot and heavy frustrating make out session yet. Above both of those however, I had never considered that HE would be so good in bed or that I would go to bed with him since there were a couple things I was on the fence about with him. Well, damn, if you can push my buttons and get me to curl up in a ball and laugh out loud, you have done a fine job. Type Geek had me laughing my ass off. He done good.

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Depression is a not so beautiful beast. From it great works of art , literature, music and momentous change can occur or it can quite simply devour an individual and take others in it’s path as collateral damage. Brooklyn is 80% IN IT right now. Remember that line, in Garden State, when Natalie Portman’s character says to Zach Braff’s character, while sitting by the giant fireplace after he is finished talking about his mother, “You’re in it right now, aren’t you?”  Great movie, by the way, but I digress. Brooklyn had spent a week suckling the teat of depression until the breeze changed last night. But let me rewind and start at last Tuesday AFTER my last post.

I hadn’t spoken to Brooklyn since the previous Friday. He had emailed me a very short message on Monday, but I ignored it because it seemed so vague and without meaning. A weak attempt at bridging the distance without addressing anything that hung in our faces. On Wednesday, as I was checking some final email’s, the weather report and cnn.com, I get an IM on google chat from him. He’s drinking the tea I sent. He talks for a couple of minutes and then, as it seems he is going to end the conversation, I jump ahead and tell him I have to go. I have let him lead the way for too long. All his leading did, was get us lost.  

I had no plans to talk to him again until he contacted me, playing a silly game of supply/demand, however, I woke up Thursday morning to find that my foster cat had died. She was curled up under the guest bed in the spare room and dead. I have no idea what might have happened. She MIGHT have been sick and no one knew, but she was only 7 and seemed fine days ago. I live in a multi unit condo building built in the early 1900’s. My feeling is that one of the units without pets placed poison down for the mice, one of those mice made it into my condo prior to dying and due to its being poisoned, it was slow enough to be caught and potentially eaten by said foster cat. That is the only idea I can come up with that seems feasible. She hadn’t left my condo in 3 weeks, was eating Wellness cat food, had fresh water, seemed to be using the litter box without issue and, when the dog was sleeping, she would come out to get loves and pets. So, needless to say I was stunned, shocked, upset, sad and confused, which led me to text him that I had woken up to find the cat dead.He responded with shock as well. Feeling a little needy, I texted him later that evening just to tell him that I missed him. He wrote back hours later that things are insane for him at the moment, everything is too much and he just can’t see the world through the immediate chaos. I let him know that I wasn’t telling him I missed him out of need for a guilt laden response, I merely was feeling his absence and wanted to let him know. I know! I KNOW! I totally showed my hand.

We didn’t talk on Friday, but that evening I received an oddly life appropriate tarot reading that led me to email him at 4:30 am. 3 am is normal but 4:30 am isn’t too atypical of me, by the way. The email was light, just a lot of Hey, we haven’t been talking much and so we are out of touch with what the other is doing/working on, so here’s all the stuff going on with me. Hope all is well in your part of the world. I followed that up with an early Saturday afternoon text hoping that he was having fun with the kids and relaxing. Unfortunately, the returned message was grim and sounded like he was one step from jumping in front of a train. I left him a voice mail reiterating that he doesn’t have to go through this alone, that he has FRIENDS to whom he can lean on.

I spent that afternoon with my barista friend as we both had time to kill and needed distraction from our individual romantic dramas. We met at his Starbucks and wandered around for a bit before deciding on eating some Malaysian food. I then grabbed myself a Jin deui from around the corner (sesame ball filled with red bean paste) and we wandered to a local high-end home goods store for shits and giggles. AMAZING SALE on these cool Mio sculptural wall tiles, which means I can now finish THAT corner of my condo AND for only $30 total!!After an hour of sitting on the floor of a local bookstore we decided a cocktail was in order. I watched him drink gin (ugh, yuck, shoot me first) as I drank vanilla brandy and Limoncello. The rum is off my radar for a bit. We finished up, he walked me to my train and we parted ways. Me, home to my pup and the faithful internet. Him,off to booze it up with some friends and some PBR. Umm, eww.

Now, by Sunday night I hadn’t heard from Brooklyn and he had said he would talk to me over the weekend. I decided the funny approach would work. I sent an email with the subject line,”Giant Sinkhole opens up and swallows man. He is never heard from again.”  In the body I just place a smiley emoticon. Ten minutes later I receive a reply,”It’s called depression”, I then try to show that I understand and that I relate, that I have been in the pits of depression at points in my life and I understand how tasty the marrow of it can be, how sucking all the sorrow out of that bone can be oh so good, BUT, that he has friends and he can call upon us just to yell and go ARRRRGH and GRRRRRR if he needs to. For him just to see and understand this. He replies shortly after that he does in fact see and understand that, and, even though it may appear as if he is wallowing, it is no where near what he has done in the past, but that he just can’t handle the world at the moment. I end the night by reiterating, if he needs anything, just let me know.

Now, I assume that this is the end of communication for days, if not a week. However, suddenly he appears of Facebook saying hello a couple of hours later. He asks me if I have met Crab Ass Brooklyn and I introduce him to Obnoxiously Heart in the Right Place Friend and then we laugh and proceed to have the most normal chat we have had in weeks. In fact, at the end, I mention a new symphony by Lieberson based upon Neruda Poems, and that I was excited to hear it once they released the recordings because his last works were gorgeous and intense. Brooklyn then says, without missing a beat, “like you”. Come again?! All I said was a simple thank you, but holy there’s the Brooklyn I know, and adore, Batman! We both sign off right after that and I go to bed with a smile.

Funny thing, he gets all chatty Cathy with me twice on Monday, even calling me punky at one point. Hmm, Earth to Brooklyn, are you coming up for air? I am hesitant to get too excited and I am keeping a little more emotional distance this go around. I also have two dates this coming weekend. One is a former “rock star”/dj turned designer and the other is, oh man, he’s been out of the country for a month, I forget what he does. Ha Ha.

So, this is where I stand, Brooklyn’s hot water tank may have gotten fixed and I have two dates in the pipeline. As I sit here eating edamame with Franks Red Hot and snuggling with my pooch, I am a bit more content than I was a week ago today. I miss the cat though. So, perhaps this journey isn’t going to have me making out with Natalie Portman in an airport like Zach Braff, but perhaps it will have a far better outcome than was looking possible only days ago.

To Foster Kitty, 2003-2010

Tuesday Posts are web-syndicated by www.thenewgay.net

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Interesting end to the week. Friday night I had a date with the Half Asian Hipster, only he isn’t actually a hipster and he’s more a martial arts trained entrepreneur with a really comfortable bed. Yes, I said bed. Now, before you start thinking naughty things… let me start at the beginning of the day.

Brooklyn and I had some heavy back and forth emails Friday morning. They needed to happen. Things had gotten strange since we *almost* had sex and they weren’t getting less strange. More on this next post.

So, I was glad that I had made a date for the evening with the no-longer known as Half-Asian Hipster, now known as Martial Arts Trained Entrepreneur. I needed distraction and fun. We met at the bar a half hour after the time we had planned, he with traffic issues, me with train issues. We had two drinks there, oh and I think he made us do a shot. Hmm, three drinks there. Oof, now I am understanding what happened. So, I feel fine, he is nice, way more muscular in person than he looked on-line. Kinda shocked by that. It made sense as the night went on and he explained how he grew up partly with his mom in Japan and was raised talking Kendo and various other martial arts. This body strength came in handy at the 4.5 hour mark of our date.

Anatomy of a What Was I Thinking night of bar hopping:

Venue 1: 9:00-10:30 Drank two Dark and Stormies and some shot called a tic-tac ? (Wait, I am 35, did I really just do a shot?!) Hmm, what to do next. We drove back to his neighborhood to check out some dj’s. We parked his car in his complex, dropped his jacket at his place and headed to the next bar.

Venue 2: 11:00-11:20 Drank one Dark and Stormy and a shot of Patron. (Wait, ok, shit, was that another shot he just handed me? ) DJ was lame. Left

Venue 3: 11:35-12:00 Walked down the street to check out one of my favorite venues but there was a line out the door. I don’t do lines for *possible* admittance. Not since I was 14 years old and sneaking into clubs with a fake ID. Somehow on our way back to check a different venue,  the conversation shifted to something about height. So, next thing I know, we are both barefoot on the street corner kissing. Hmm, ok. We put our shoes back on and end up in another bar. I order us a drink, asking the bartender to just make us something rummy and tasty. While I am waiting, a strange troll of a man standing next to me starts chatting me up. The man actually looked a bit like a taller Gollum, with better teeth. Why was the bartender taking so long to make this tasty drink? When it finally arrived, I wondered if I said tasty at all to him, unless, I guess, battery acid is tasty to him, because the drink was vile. So, my date , whose nickname here spells MATE in its acronym, HA HA HA, he and I opted to go back to the 2nd venue because it was better than this place with Gollum and the drinks from hell.

Back to Venue 2: 12:15- ? One more Dark and Stormy. Some dancing. A little flirting. Some occasional kisses.

This is what I remember. What I lost is us leaving the bar at closing, not grabbing my blazer that I had tossed under the table to make sure it didn’t get anything spilled on it where I was dancing, walking back to his place. Knowing we needed time for him to sober up before driving me home and my deciding that laying down for a second was a great idea.

Things come back right at the moment I feel myself about to vomit, he THANKFULLY happens to be standing near me and quickly picks me up (remember how I talk about him being strong?) and carries me into the bathroom. (The next time I leave the bathroom, it’s nearly light out.) Soon after my entering the bathroom, he leaves and comes back some shorts, a t-shirt and leaves the room so he can let me get undressed. I guess I hit the white pants a bit, so he offered to wash them for me. I spent a few hours curled up in a ball in my underwear in his shower with the hot water running on my back. When the hot water ran out, I shut it off and just laid there. He came in and draped towels over me to keep me warm because I wasn’t ready to get out yet. He went to bed and I alternated between 20 minute naps on the cold tub bottom and waking up to vomit. It was a glamorous moment in my life. Eventually the stomach settled enough that I could crawl out of the tub, strip out of my cold wet undies and into his shirt and shorts. I brushed my teeth with the toothbrush he left me, thank god for small miracles, and CRAWLED out of the bathroom, across the floor and into the bed. Amazingly comfortable bed.

We woke up to the most gorgeous day of the year so far and he ran off to get me a venti iced green tea and a Kind Bar from Starbucks as I struggled to sit up and face the world. I felt good, surprisingly. Then I went to have a pee and got the spins and threw up three more times while he was gone. He came back to find me back in the bed but facing a different direction. The tea was well appreciated, the Kind Bar was not loving my stomach after the two small bites, so that hung out elsewhere. We laid there and talked for a half hour and I really felt like a shower would help me so he left me alone and did some work stuff while I threw up two more times and then showered. I came out of the shower far more alive than I had been feeling in nearly 8 hours.

The sun streamed into his apartment and felt nice coming through the open windows. I sat on the couch and let him finish his phone conversation as I sipped on my green tea with my once again brushed teeth (This was third time brushed in 14 hours!). I remembered that I had made a cocktail date with someone off the dating sites for 1:00 pm. That wasn’t happening. The thought of cocktails anytime in the next month sounds awful and the reality that I would be the worst date in history for two men in one weekend if I showed up, made me cancel. I feigned food poisoning.  Food poisoning might get me a rain check, telling him that I am dead sick at some other date’s house, wearing said other date’s clothes and not moving anytime soon due to the sheer amount of alcohol I consumed the night prior, that would NOT get me a rain check. In case you were counting, 7 cocktails, including the two shots, on very little food. Foolishness.

MATE and I sat around for another hour while my clothes from the previous night finished washing, we played some Katamari, he smoked some pot (I’m not a fan but to each their own if it’s in moderation), I vomited one last time, brushed one more time and finally got around to eating my Kind Bar before getting into my own clothes and getting driven home.  It was a beautiful day and I missed the majority of it. My dog waited at the door angry at the lack of breakfast and the absence of bathroom breaks over such an extended period of time. I couldn’t get into a car and go home before I knew I wasn’t going to vomit once in the moving car. I’m sorry puppy, I really am.

So, the remainder of the weekend became a series of naps, reintroduction of food and conscious avoidance of texting or calling Brooklyn. Sigh. TGIM

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We met at Starbucks before the concert. SHORT and OMG… SO GAY. How does he NOT know that he is gay? The entire world knows that this 32-year-old man, studying to be a nurse, is a raging queer. He laments that most of his friends are gay or mailmen OR gay mailmen. Ya think? Really? Wasn’t there a mailman in The Village People?

We stopped for Pho before the show and were seated next to a former colleague of mine and her husband whom I have never gotten on with. I actually avoided even saying hello to him. I spoke with the woman for a few moments, realized we were both going to the same show and sighed in relief when they finished up 10 minutes before us. I desperately needed to tell my gay date what a douche bag her husband was.

The show was phenomenal. The opening act quirky and while at first a little too hip and annoying, I must admit that her thumb piano and high-pitched voice eventually won me over because her lyrics were just THAT fun. Robot Ponies. Really?!

The main act came on… and they played two sets and a few songs for encore. I love his voice and if i could have anyone be the soundtrack for my life, it would be this man and his band of loons.

The bartender at the venue made the strongest well drinks EVER and I found myself very buzzed off two drinks. Since I knew I was not going to be kissing the emasculated gay nurse in training, I tested Mr. Decade and told him to meet me for a night-cap. He actually responded that he was planning on going to bed early. Umm, when the 35-year-old woman who you have tried to convince to give you a legitimate chance, text messages you from a concert, admitting to being tipsy, and inviting you out for a night-cap, you do NOT say no. I responded back that he should reconsider because I wasn’t sure how many times I might offer. Needless to say, he agreed to meet me.

We met at a place around the corner from his apartment and next to my train station. We curled up on a couch in the corner, had a couple drinks and he put his arm around me. He did so at first in a semi-awkwardly, not sure what was acceptable way, but then loosened up. We spent an hour sprawled out on the couch chatting and staring at the patrons and the fish tank before I realized I had ten minutes before my train was coming.

On the walk over to the station I felt a bit bratty, grabbed some snowballs and jettisoned them at him. I knew he was feeling too gentlemanly to really throw back AND he wasn’t wearing gloves. Ha Ha. Outside the station he reached down to give a peck goodnight, again, unsure of where I was leading him or authorizing him to go. I had to assert myself a bit, pulling him back in for a more authentic round of kissing that happily left us both a little smirky on our separate walks home. Not bad for a 25-year-old.

So, what does everyone think. Should I give the 25-year-old a real chance or is it doomed to be messy and obnoxious because of his age and our age difference? Comment with your opinions!

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The weekend was productive. I had a non-romantic study(him)/work(me) “date” with my young Mr. Decade from last week. We met at a local coffee-house and spread out for some serious nose to the grindstone action. We did pretty well even. While I didn’t get all the changes made to my corporate home page, I did get a good start and built up some worthwhile momentum, which carried me through to the majority of the evening, long after I had gone home and would have normally given up to surf the Internet. Mr. Decade was good. Not a date, as I am trying to decide if I should give him a real chance or not. I’m not sure if the 10 years difference is an obstacle I can climb over. He’s sweet though.  He had gone out to a party after we separated Saturday afternoon and late that evening, whilst I was still in html coding hell, he IM’d me.  He tried subtle flirting. I dodged it. He tried not so subtle flirting, I was still able to navigate past that. Then he said, “All I am saying is, if you give me a chance, I just MIGHT curl those toes of yours.”  Umm, JESUS, young man! OY! Nervous laughter on my end as I asked why he is interested in me, 10 years his senior, to which his response was,”You are smart, witty, gorgeous AND sexy. Why wouldn’t I be interested in you?” Pretty good response, I must admit. We said our good-nights and I worked for a few more hours.

The time flew. 11 pm, 12:30, 2, and then 4 am. I had made plans earlier in the week to meet up for Sunday brunch with the Doppelganger, a.k.a. the Peruvian’s bigger brother (eek). I wasn’t feeling it Saturday night though. I really wanted a lazy Sunday with no commitments suddenly. I felt like an asshole but I had to feign illness. I wrote him at 4:15 am and complained of an overwhelming malaise that seemed to be worsening as the hours stretched. I felt it was a kinder excuse than the truth, which was that I wasn’t in the mood suddenly. This would have disappointed him and potentially hurt his feelings, neither of which were my intention or goal. Speaking of intentions, neither of the brothers know about me yet, but I promise, I will tell Doppelganger soon, UNLESS, after the next date, there is total clarity that we have zero chance for anything beyond friendship. I am trying to weigh him separately from his brother, and it is difficult to avoid the comparisons at every turn, but I am trying to do that. So, I sent the email and woke at 11 am to see that he had received and accepted my rain-check with a voice of concern and advice to load up on “c and Theraflu”. I didn’t do either BUT I did load up on coffee at Starbucks.

The dog and I were BORED come 2 pm. We decided a wander around the waterfront area was exactly what we needed. We took to the streets, both properly bundled in our jackets and boarded the train. At the waterfront we roamed around a little bit, ran into our Mr. Decade on the street near the cafe and stopped into his place for a bit to warm up. The pooch proceeded to show off and make out with him and his roommate while rolling on the carpeted floor in absolute glee. She is a funny dog. We stayed about 45 minutes before heading back home, past another Starbucks, on to the train and home for some amazing gourmet nachos made by… me.

I had a few more hours of work to do and I was exhausted. Even with the caffeine I was finding myself nodding off as I finished some work on the home page. I took a break to check my emails and deal with some of them and noticed that PayPal had sent me another note. They are the merchant services provider for my business and we’ve had some issues back and forth lately that we have been working through. These issues have required many updates, changes, blah blah blah. SO, I didn’t think anything of the email telling me that I needed to update my info. Of course I needed to update my account information. I just spoke with PayPal two days prior about that very issue.

I woke up Monday morning, wandered to Starbucks, and was informed that my card was declined. Hmm. Thousands in my account but a $3 espresso drink makes it come to a grinding halt? Just then it all made sense. I called my bank first to verify my theory. Then I called PayPal to let them know to warn their users. 20 minutes later I was in my banker’s office and he was cutting up my card and informing me that after the money is paid out, they will begin an affidavit to the fraud. After that point they launch an investigation and then he told me that it could take up to 60 days to get a full refund. 60 days and a bank account that was wiped clean. This will be an interesting week. I can’t believe that I fell for a phishing scam. I had plans to woo my Musician/Assoc Prod/Writer guy at a concert this week, to pick up some materials at Home Depot for a little cosmetic work I have to do on my condo and to buy dog food. I guess the universe had other plans. I may have to ramp up the dating over the next 60 days just to ensure I have dinner. I am not the type to date because I am poor and need to eat but hmmm, it is awfully tempting.

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