Hmm, so, life stays interesting, even when I spend a quiet weekend with my kids. After all, kids do go to bed and phones do ring. Mr. You’re Intriguing called last night. I was upstairs tucking the kids in bed when the phone rang, so I called him back after the kids were all tucked in, and I could give him my full attention. That was a little after 9. We started talking about our weekends; after all, we are both talkers. But he and I have talked more and more about personal things, though very politely, very much easing into the water of yes, there is attraction here; intense attraction. I think he has made his way off the fence of trying to figure out how to understand the dichotomy that I am a nice girl, a strong woman, but also wild and unconventional. Though, the manner in which this came across was completely respectful, completely polite, very vulnerable, and very, very, very sexy. He told me what it is that attracts him to me, and it isn’t just my body (though he likes that, too). And I told him what it is about him that attracts me. Somehow we both ended up speechless. And I was hot and bothered, and had no doubts he was, too. And that though this is out there now, it isn’t something we should do something about too soon. I don’t want to give him less than 100%, but I have endings to attend to before I can do that. We went speechless around 11:30, but didn’t get off the phone until a bit after midnight. Neither one of us wanted to hang up the phone; just the silence of being there and the intimacy hanging between us, of admitting desire and vulnerability, and the need to respect one another and not simply rush in. We plan to see one another this weekend. That will be both wonderful and very, very difficult because the urge to touch will be very, very strong.

When I hung up the phone, I saw I had gotten a txt around 11. It was Mr. Motorcyle. “Hi baby.” I usually txt first at night, so perhaps he was missing me. Maybe he felt the distance in the time my thoughts were away from him. I txt’d him sweet dreams, but he must have already been asleep, as no reply. In the morning, I sent him a “Good morning, dearest.” A bit later, he wrote back. He misses me. He wants to see me. He may get to come back to KS early, maybe this weekend. Desire hangs in the air. I close my eyes and imagine the feel of his hands on my skin, the way he looks at me through his long lashes while wearing his knowing smile, the sound of his voice. I need to see him. I need to talk to him about his leaving. Maybe I want to know what he really thinks and feels, maybe living with the mystery is better. Perhaps I already know by what he does and don’t need to press for words, which is what I usually conclude when I think I need to know something about him; it doesn't change anything so why complicate. I’ve never asked him to make me any promises, and I don’t want him to feel like he has to now. He hints that he wants promises from me, but he has never asked, like when I went to Boston and he asked if was leaving him, and when I sent him suggestive pictures I obviously didn't take and his afterthought was to ask if he should be jealous. Do you ask the fireflies not to leave, or to be jealous of the sunrise that sends them to slumber? But in general, he simply gets me, I adore him, and perhaps the we needs to stay inside of the perfect space between our lives so that memories can stay untarnished and we can forever be beautiful together. That would be the simple and uncomplicated way. Part of me wonders why he doesn’t just go poof as things get complicated. That would be an understandable reaction; I still halfway expect and would understand it. He knows I know he has to go to Korea; that he has to be half a world away. I know every man knows women tend to get emotional at goodbyes, and that most men would rather cut off both arms than deal with all the drama women can create when they don’t get what they want. He should know by now that I want him. But perhaps he also knows that this is different. We have been the perfect drama free lovers. Maybe he wants to say goodbye, maybe he just wants it uncomplicated to the end. So I don’t know what will happen next, I just know that I do want another night with him if I can have it; to fall asleep in his arms where I feel safe and warm, and to wake up in his embrace just because that is something like heaven on earth. I hope for an ending that is as uncomplicated as how we began and I hope that his time with me will have added something to his life, too. The sun rises, the sun sets, but I don’t want these feelings to change. I want them simply to be like a favorite possession that is mine alone, that I can take out to cherish and admire when I need to know that there can be something beautiful and precious within all the harshness and craziness of life.

I got a fortune cookie yesterday that said, “A child may give you good advice.” I love fortune cookies, they amuse me greatly and since I often eat Chinese food, I get lots of them (I don’t, however, like to eat fortune cookies- my kids eat the cookie for me). Once I got one that said, “Shhh, this cookie is sleeping. Even fortune cookies need their sleep.”

But anyway, I went home and my 10 year old daughter told me I was wild. Which made me smile because she really has NO idea what her mother's life is like when mom isn't with her... and I'm pretty mild at home. I asked her if I should stop being such a wildwoman. She said, “No.” See, good advice. Then I get on facebook and see that one of my friends has posted this: “Looking through faerie tale theater on dvd the 6 year old says, "The princess who never laughed - well SHE needs a man".  LOL. Wonder if those two pieces of advice should go together.

How can you lose something you have never had?

That question keeps rolling through my mind again and again and again. It’s a silly
question, really. Of course I had something, or I wouldn’t feel this bittersweet
feeling, that of something gained and something lost, and something beautiful that
I have shared, however briefly, with another human being.

I met him online, 69 days before I am writing this. He had matched with me on a
site I’m on where I have a profile that says I am just looking for pen pals, not
dates. His match must have come in just before I took a month offline while
dealing with my last boyfriend and figuring out what to do with that. So when I
came back online, I thought he was gorgeous, looked at his profile, which read,
“I am me, and I LOVE me...all you have to do is spend a few min with me and
you will either love me or hate me...I think that’s my gift from GOD, or a curse
lol.” It does mention in his keywords, “Going to Korea” and I note that. Not
exactly pervie fuck me (which are the ones I studiously avoid on there), and yes,
he was gorgeous so I clicked yes, and though I usually don’t write men first, I
wrote him back, “Thanks for matching with me- I just came back from about a
month offline, and yours must have come in right before I set my profile off for a
while, so I apologize for the delay. So, what is it about you that makes people
either love or hate you? Sounds intriguing.” He wrote back, “I am glad you’re
back lol. Well I rub people either the right way or the wrong way lol. I like your
pic and want to get to know you.” Then I had put up a new picture, and after that,
 he told me thought I was sexy with my clothes on (on this site, a lot of women
post scantily clad to get ratings- I posted a pic of me with jeans, a long sleeve
shirt and no cleavage showing- and I am not large chested).  I told him that I think
 that what is left to the imagination is far sexier than that which is not. He told me
where he was stationed (he’s in the Army) and did I live near. Three hours away.
 He said, “Girl, I would walk that far to see you… you are absolutely a knock
out. I would be honored.” He gave me his number and said, “Call me tonight.” I
called, even though I don’t usually call men first, either. Got his voice mail. He
called me back and left me a voice mail. I called him in the morning, since he sent
me a good morning txt. He talked very briefly, got off the phone in a hurry. I
couldn’t tell if it was because he had to get to work or if he didn’t want anyone to
hear. Hmmm. We moved offline to txt, and that was the only time we ever talked
on the phone.

We agreed to meet in a city halfway between us. He asked if he could take me
bowling. I told him sure, as long as he promised to laugh with me, not at me.
Then he asked me if I could spend the night. He said he wasn’t some big pervert,
he just wanted to wake up with me in his arms. He somehow seemed very sweet,
earnest, and honest. I told him I would come; we set the date for about a week
and a half away. I had the feeling that if I decided to change my mind about
spending the night at any time, and there would be no harm no foul, or that if I
didn’t want to do anything but snuggle, he’d be all right with that. But even more,
I had the feeling I wouldn’t change my mind. When I was on my way to meet him,
he txt’d me that he’d checked in at a motel, and gave me the room number. Then
he txt’d, “Are you nervous.” I checked my feelings and no, no nervousness. I
txt’d back, “No. Are you?”  He asked if I were an axe murderer and I said not
that I know of. I told him I appreciated that there were no expectations except
show up and be who I am. And, I told him, “You’ll either like me or you won’t.”
And prepared simply to focus on the moment as I had the sense this would be a
night I would want to remember.

I got to the hotel, got my overnight bag, and knocked on the door. He kissed me
and I put my bags down, and he asked I was moving in. “Maybe,” I quipped,
and he hugged me, and kissed me again. I felt like I was embracing someone I
had known forever, not meeting a perfect stranger, and anyone observing our
conversation would likely have picked up the same thing. No who are you, tell me
about you, just very here and now. It felt really natural. We got on his motorcycle
and rode to find the bowling alley, and at one point we weren’t sure we were
going the right way, and he stopped and asked for directions. I was impressed, a
man who asks for directions, without being self conscious about it. Too bad the
person we stopped to ask from didn’t turn out to speak English, LOL. I snuggled
in close behind him on the motorcycle, my hands against his chest, over his shirt,
my chest and cheek close against his back, my thighs against his thighs.

We got to the bowling alley, and he was true to his word, he never once laughed
at me, even though I am not good at bowling. He cheered for me, gave me a few
tips, and we always hugged and kissed between turns. He marveled that I was
beautiful, fine boned, and tall but petite, just like in my photograph. I marveled
that he was tall, beautifully handsome, with expressive dark eyes and long lashes,
and full lips, soft and gently kissable. He also shared my tendency to small talk
with strangers, we ended up also talking with/cheering on the family at the lanes
next to us, and they us. I laughed to myself, they probably had zero idea that he
and I had just met each other, we complemented one another so well. And kissed
 so much. At one point, he whispered in my ear, “People are probably thinking
we should get a room.” I smiled. He said, “To which I would say, ‘We already
have one.’” I hugged him and we kissed again. He tucked me close under his
chin, laughed, and said, “We fit perfectly… like legos.” I smiled and hugged him
tighter.

Then again on the motorcycle. It was dark, a warm night and we rode down
some of the dark side streets, past grassy lots with the sound of cicadas and
crickets singing to us in the night, my hands pressed against him, warmed under
his shirt this time, completely relaxing into him. I smiled, comfortable, contented.
We got back to the hotel and decided to watch a DVD, curled up together. We
both ended up dozing off and on through that. He was sleeping when the movie
ended, and woke up when I turned it off. During the evening, he shows that he
has a sharp sense of humor, a keen sense of observation. He says little, but what
he says, he has thought about. Though, he does occasionally get on a soap box if
you hit the right topic, and I can tell he can probably get pretty passionate about
a topic if he chooses to. Anyway, you can scroll back through my blog and read
the “Intimate Strangers” poem about what happened next. Really, I had no idea I
could ever be that relaxed, that comfortable, that completely trusting with a
complete stranger. He was so gentle, so in tune, so honest in his expression; we
just built on one another’s energy, never once awkward; only appreciative,
passionate, sweet. He marveled at my body, thrilled at my excitement, told me
how much he liked it at times when I took control. He made me feel loved,
honored, cherished, and beautiful. We talked a little when we rested, and then
made love again, as amazingly as the first time, and around two in the morning,
he kissed my forehead and told me he looked forward to waking up with me,
and I knew that was true. I did fall asleep, relaxed in his arms with a blissful smile.

I had to be up early to go home to my kids, so I had set my alarm, got up and
took my shower, then curled up with his arms around me for the next 20 minutes
before I had to go. He kissed me more, and when I got up, he looked in my eyes
and said, “Let’s do this again.” I smiled, “Yes, let’s.” I felt so relaxed, so
completely at peace. I kissed him again, and I left. I took a picture of myself in
my van, my long hair damp, my smile radiant with the afterglow, and I sent it to
him with a note that the smile is for him. He txt’d back, “Ur beautiful, baby.” He
txt’d me several times per day. I didn’t intend to hope for anything. I’d had a
wonderful night, if that was it, that was okay. For only one night, I had felt
perfectly in tune, cherished, loved. That night was probably better than if you
rolled all the intimacy I had in 10 years with my ex into one night.

I realized he had given me a gift- in that night, I knew like I had never before,
that I was beautiful. And to a woman, beautiful means worthwhile. Somehow in
that night, I found a very large and previously missing part of myself, that I had
hidden from myself- my confidence, my value in myself, and my ability to make
decisions for myself based on what I wanted without feeling the need to apologize,
qualify, or explain myself. I know the world would judge my actions harshly, after
all, women are not supposed to be sexually confident or fuck strangers. But I
realized I am completely confident in my sexuality, and somehow, he was not a
stranger in that moment we knew each other more perfectly than I have known
men with whom I have spent years. We shared intimacy, and we shared
something beautiful and if it never came to more, that was okay. Love means the
loved one’s happiness is more important that trying to own something wild and
free.

Much to my surprise, he continued to txt me. At first slowly, just a few times a
day. Turned out we are both people who stay up late and get up early- I usually
go to bed between 11 and midnight, and he txt’s goodnight either when I txt
goodnight, or a bit after. I get up around 5:30, he’s usually up by 6 (but, he’s in
the Army- he has morning PT).  Usually his txts are short. Hello. Thinking of you.
He calls me his baby, his princess, his queen, his beloved, his sweetheart, his
dearest. I don’t press him to see me again, I think that I must be patient. I want
him to want me, not to feel pressured. I date other people. We txt daily,
sometimes only 2 or 3 times, sometimes a dozen or two times. He asks what I
am doing. He asks how I am. He expresses concern about my feelings and
interest in what I am doing. He says he misses me. I tell him I miss him, too.
Strange, to miss someone you have only met once. Finally after 2 weeks, he says,
when will I see you?  I tell him you tell me. I have an event with my kids that
weekend, he has his kids the next weekend (he has 3 kids, age 2,11, and 18).
So we set a date for the following weekend after that; a month from our first
meeting.

The morning before we meet, he sends me a txt, “The first thing we are doing is
IT!” I txt back, “But of course.” It makes me smile because most of the time, he
doesn’t talk to me like that. Then he sends me a graphic txt about what he would
like to do to me. And follows it with, “I hope this isn’t too early in the morning for
me to be that graphic.” That is so like him, sexy as hell but always polite with me.
I txt back and tell him it made me smile. He’s allowed to be graphic, at this point;
I am thinking the same thing. We meet at the hotel again. I get there before he
does; he is delayed because his 18 year old daughter has the car and it’s too
cold to ride the motorcycle. I wander off to take advantage of being in the city to
go shopping and he txt’s me when he gets there. He tells me has the room, I tell
him I am on my way. He asks me if I want him with clothes on or off. I tell him,
“Clothes on. Undressing is sexy.” He txts back, “LOL.” Yes, undressing him is so
very sexy, and I think he feels the same about undressing me. He puts on his
computer, with a playlist full of old school love songs. He tells me that he is going
to sing to me, and that he hopes I won’t laugh at him. He sings to me, and we
make love and it’s the same, beautiful intimacy as before. When we are done
making love, he continues to sing to me, and to just touch, kiss, snuggle, and
caress, for over an hour, we simply relax and explore one another in touch. Then
we watch a DVD and order pizza. At one point, the computer we’re watching
on (his) reboots itself. There are two profiles and one is under a woman’s name.
I say nothing and he says nothing. Who am I to complain- he was the third man
I’d had sex with, within about a week’s time, the first time I made love to him.
And I had sex with one of those other lovers just a few days prior to this liaison
with him. He didn’t ask me anything about other men, so I didn’t feel I should
ask him anything about other women. His oldest daughter’s picture is on the
wallpaper; she is very obviously a teenager and looks like a female version of him.
 I tell him she is beautiful. He says, “She is a pain in the ass.” I laugh. Nothing
matters but that he is with me and we have this moment. We finish the movie,
make love again, and then we are tired, curl up together under the covers and I
go to sleep snuggled up against him, warmly in his arms. I feel lucky again, twice
in a lifetime. None of my other men have made me feel this way, but I also tell
myself to recognize that it is only for the moment and to appreciate it as a moment,
 wild and free. He has told me that he likes that I am obviously smart and
beautiful, but able to be relaxed and wild.

In the morning, we wake to his phone going berserk. I can hear the person on the
other end, it is his daughter and she is mad at her dad because he was supposed
to be taking her to work. But here he is with me, 1-1/2 hours away. He
apologizes, tells her to call in late and blame him. We quickly shower, he kisses
me goodbye, and we promise to do this again. I see his last name on the hotel
receipt. We resume our same txt relationship. Except he tells me more about
himself, his thoughts, his feelings, occasionally. In little bits and pieces I learn
about his personality. He shares when he is having a bad day; brief and not
expecting me to do anything about it, but like he knows I care. I mirror that. And
I also share if I see something I want to tell him about. When I am at the haunted
haybales, I tell him about the stars and the fun we are having, and the questions
he asks tell me he is really and truly interested. The next Friday he asks what I
am I doing, I tell him I am getting ready to go to Boston. He txts back
immediately, “Are you leaving me?” I am momentarily confused. Leaving him?
Am I with him? I read his feelings now, or at least I think I do. I feel anxiousness
in his question. I tell him no, that I am going for business and to stay with an old
friend (female) and I will be back on Sunday. I tell him I will miss him from
Boston same as I do from Kansas. He says he will miss me, too, and to keep
in touch while I am gone. I do. He txts a lot that weekend. I am with someone
else that I visit on the way home, though I set out with only the intention to visit.
He is happy I am back in Kansas and we resume communication.

A week later, Monday morning, he txts me and his grammar and spelling tell me
he is stressed. He tells me he got to work that morning and was told he is getting
sent to Fort Gordon, in Georgia, the next day, because the person who was to go
isn’t going to be able to go. I tell him that I wish he didn’t have to go, and I will
miss him from Georgia like I miss him when he is in Kansas, and I will be happy
when he returns. He sounds sad. I notice he has emailed me from his profile in the
 email system to comment my new picture is yummy. I also notice his profile has a
 “profile changed” notice. I look, and “I’m going to Korea” is prominently noted
on the body of his profile. I write and ask if he knows when. That was a week
ago, he hasn’t answered that question. I worry that he will use going to GA as a
reason to shut me out, to make it easier to walk away. But he goes to Georgia.
At first, he is very quiet. Just morning and good night txts. Occasionally hi baby,
or I miss you. One day he tells me he misses me, and that he wants to see me as
soon as he can after he gets back. After a week, he asks when I will send another
picture. Sometimes I send pictures that are sexy, but never showing anything you
wouldn’t see if I were in my bikini. I haven’t sent one for a while. He says, “I
want to see that fab body that I want to have in my mouth.” That is far more
forward than his usual, so I presume it means he misses me. I txt him back, “I
miss you too.” He txts back, “LOL.” I know him well. I tell him wait, and I
upload two pictures from my boudoir shoot. Both are sexy, but not super
revealing. But obvious I am scantily clad. I send them to him. He txt’s back,
“WOW!” I txt, “You like?” He says, “I LIKE!” Later that evening, I get a txt
from him that says, “Should I be jealous?” I am confused at first. Jealous? I txt
back, “Jealous of what?” I think on it and I realize- those are pictures I obviously
didn’t take myself. I txt him back and tell him that, so there is no mystery, the
pictures were taken by a professional in September, and I have just recently
gotten the proofs. I had them taken as my belated 40th birthday present, to
commemorate that I hit middle age looking not so bad, and I took them for
myself, without the intention of sharing them with anyone, but I decided to share
these with him- so relax and enjoy. He says nothing, which is generally his way of
saying it’s okay.

Communication resumes, but most days fairly quiet. That gives me time to wonder
more than I should. I search his name. I find an article that describes a scholarship
award ceremony for his oldest daughter. It says the parents were both there. The
mother’s name is the name of the woman that is on his computer. I search for
both of them. She is a warrant officer. I know his rank is not that high. I find
associations with both of their names at Fort Riley and Fort Gordon. There is a
phone number listed under her first name with his last name. I wonder if they are
still married. It would explain his reticence toward phone calls, though his
quietness also explains that. I check his myspace and it has his 2 year old’s
picture as his profile pic, but is a private profile. Finally I am able to find his
classmates.com listing and it mentions that he is recently divorced. I wonder
about his life, but I don’t feel it’s right to pry, since he doesn’t pry into mine. But
of course, here I am, prying. But that is all I want to know; is he married or not,
because that affects my predictions of how he will react to me, or of what it is
and isn't fair to expect from him. I want to ask him about going to Korea, but I
don’t want to ask that by txt- if he doesn’t want to address it by email, then txt is
too impersonal, too. Going to Korea means we can’t continue this odd affair
indefinitely. He has dignified me by not taking the easy way out and going poof. I
don’t imagine that either of us could continue it from that distance, for that
amount of time; I know I have potential suitors in line and he is so beautifully
handsome that I have no doubt women throw themselves at him, loving the image
of him like men love the image of me. So some sort of conclusion needs to
happen, but how that will look, I have no idea. I brace myself that he may
disappear because that is easier. But strangely, he has given me reason to think
he cares about me, whether he feels any attachment or not. So maybe he will
want to say goodbye. I want to tell him thank you, and that he will always have
a special place in my heart, and that I wish him well. I am usually halfway decent
at predicting what people will do, but I don’t know what comes next, if I will get
the opportunity to say and show what I feel. I guess we have to wait for life to
unfold; he should be back from Georgia around Thanksgiving and then we shall
see. So, gentle readers, any predictions? What will he do? I have friends betting
on 1) he’ll go poof and not deal with it 2) we’ll have a hot night, say goodbye,
and I’ll put up my hair and go on my way like I always do, and that’s it 3) he’ll
tell me he adores me and doesn’t want it to end. My bet is on 1 or 2, what do
you think- cast your vote (or write your favorite prediction of the ending) in the
comments section and then we will see if you are psychic… (or just psycho),
LOL. 

We exist in this perfect space

Between our lives, you and I

This place where we can simply let

Fantasy and reality collide

You met me as a woman

And I loved you as a man

And in between our hearts grew fond

As only perfect lovers can

Not burdened by the day to day

Our time so sweet and pure

I only have to close my eyes

And in my heart I’m yours

The memory of your kisses

With the softness of your touch

The songs you gently sang to me

You made me feel so much

And though mere things

Like time and space

Conspire to us part

I will always love you perfectly

And hold you dearly in my heart

I would have to go and mention plot twists last night. Interestingly... about 11:30, I get a txt from Mr. Motorcyle. It's in picture format, which means it's a response to a picture. It simply says, "Should I be jealous?" I am puzzled initially. I text back, "Jealous of what?" I think on it... oh, he wants to know if he should be jealous of who took the pictures, perhaps. And it occurs to me that in order to be jealous of something, you have to feel some form of attachment to it, at least some sense of wanting it to yourself. Mmmm. But that is something we haven't talked about at all, and, as I said, I expect the time we do share to end with his deployment. So, that is odd. What is he thinking, my mysterious and beautiful man? What does he want or need, and does he get anything more from this except time with his fantasy woman? Hmm. Perhaps I do need to open the door to talking about more than the moment, when we next spend time. I decide that I don't want to torment him. I txt him back and tell him that to remove any mystery about the pictures, they were taken by a professional photographer as a belated 40th birthday present to me, to celebrate that I hit middle age looking not so bad. I tell him the truth- I hadn't intended to share them with anyone in particular, but decided I wanted to share them with him. I tell him I appreciate him, and just enjoy. Silence after that. Maybe he went to bed already. I txt him good morning this morning, but I don't expect a reply for a while. After all it is Veteran's Day so I sure hope the Army gives him the day off.

I think of the jealous question. Should he be jealous? He hasn't asked for anything so he has no room to be jealous. But, right now is the time when he should be the least jealous. Yes, I have several men in my life but I realize I am currently happy with the state of things. I'm not looking to add to the equation, I want to let things sort themselves out with who is already here. If he wants more, he needs to tell me, or there is no room for jealousy. I won't ask a man for more if he doesn't open the door for more because it never works well that way for me.

On other fronts... got a call from Mr. You're Intriguing last night, he txt'd me as I was heading to bed at 11:30 and I told him I was still up. We talked for an hour. It's always good to talk to him. We talked about more personal stuff, I told him a little more about my past. We share some common threads, as well as areas where we have big differences but those differences are okay. He also makes no secret that he feels drawn to me. I want to hug him, he is awesome. And, I know the Air Force gives him today off, so he should be sleeping in.

On Veteran's Day, everyone do our vets a favor by flirting with as many Veterans as possible! ;)

OK, got about 30 minutes before I have to go to work and the kids are already at school, so I figure I'll get back to relating my Monday phone calls and boring you with the details of my life. My next call was my dear friend, who was one of the two with whom I drank too much tequila and juice, and slept on the porch in the middle of nowhere last month. She needed my opinion on a bunch of things. Trying to catch up on details of stuff before she starts nursing school in January. Said she'd talked to our friends who saw me in Boston and one had remarked that I look incredible and she's never seen me so happy (and I've known that friend 10+ years). She also apparently mentioned that she'd heard I have "friends" and wanted to know if any of them deserve me. LOL. Glad to know my friends have a high opinion of me.

Next call was Mr. You're Intriguing. It was about 10 by the time he called. We kept meaning to get off the phone, but it was midnight before we finally hung up. He had called because one of his supervisees was coming unhinged and wanted to know my opinion of how he handled it. I think he did fine- referred the person for professional help. I pointed out you can't help everyone with anything, and this sounds like a person who is headed toward harm to self or others without intervention. I asked him about racism and attitudes growing up (he's black). He said he thinks black people are the most racist of all, that he grew up being told how terrible white people are. I asked, don't you think the adults in your life had a reason to think that way, though, given the era they grow up in? He reflected for a moment and said, well, yes. I think, on the other hand, that my other friend's parents had no reason for their attitudes but ignorance. He tells me that he and his wife were not allowed to get married in the church because they were an interracial couple. But they kept attending the church. I sigh. I tell him I don't understand why people tolerate ignorance. Perhaps that she didn't stand up for her husband at that juncture was an early sign they both should have heeded?

We talk about lots of things, but eventually he and I end up talking about love. I tell him I am cynical, I am not sure love exists. He says he avoids it like the plague because he knows he's addicted to that heady,  head over heels feeling. I tell him I avoid it because I hate that feeling- I do so much better with friendships. I tell him the story of the fireflies. He reflects, then says, "Wow." I tell him I think love is like that in my life. We hang up, and in the morning, he thanks me for the conversation and tells me to have a phenomenal day.

So then Tuesday. My 1st Sergeant drives down to pick me up from work for lunch, and doesn't even mind that I have to stop and vote (thankfully there was no line). We grab A & W and take it to the park. It's windy but sunny, and autumn leaves skitter by, reminding us these days outdoors will soon be gone. We talk about the election and our fears about the stupidity of Americans. Then it is time to go, my lunch hour is over. He tells me that he just wanted to say he meant what he said about my picture, blushes, and said, "Well, what I said." I laugh, blush, and say, "No comment." Inside I think a happy memory of when I took that picture, and a little sad as I know that moment is over. I took the picture right after I got out of the shower with Mr. Motorcyle, right after he had to leave and before I left the hotel. I did feel beautiful and that was why I had taken it with my camera phone. I blink and erase the thought and 1st Sergeant says he won' t say any more. He drops me off at work and tells me I owe him another kiss, since he doesn't want to kiss me in front of my workplace. I smile and give him a quick hug before I got.

This morning I txt a little with Mr. Motorcyle. He promises to travel safely and let me know when he's in Georgia. Neither of us say anything about all that is unsaid. Last time I was with him he whispered in my ear, "Tell me a secret." I thought a moment and replied that I have no secrets, my life is open. He said nothing. I didn't tell him that his secret really isn't. I remind myself of the blowing of the autumn leaves, like my feelings; yellow, gold, and red, let them go on the wind with my blessings for his happiness and may he find what it is he's missing.

Mr. Halfway txts back to my good morning. Asks me what's up. I tell him I'm getting the kids ready for school. He says he and his partner are sitting there having a bizarre conversation. I ask what about. He says, transvestites. I say, what about transvestites. He says, about this one we're looking at. I ask if said transvestite is in need of a stylist and makeover. He says dude looks like Godzilla in a dress. I tell him that's a scary visual. No conversation after that.

Now back to my day, it's Wednesday morning. Looked up the weekend weather, it says sunny but chilly. Guess I'll check and see if Mr. Ducati minds the chill. Not much else going on here, and now I'll get my butt to work.

I had intended to blog more about last night's interesting phone conversations, but I'm sitting here feeling kind of vaguely sad and wistful tonight. Got a txt this morning from my Mr. Motorcyle, right after he got to work, saying he'd been informed that he's being shipped to Georgia for 3 weeks, starting tomorrow, because the person that was supposed to go can't. He said he missed me. I told him I would miss him from there the same way I miss him from here, and would look forward to when I could see him again. We traded hello, I miss you's after work. Tonight I logged in on the computer and saw he'd updated his profile, that he is definitely going to Korea. I wished him safe travels tomorrow, and asked if he knows yet when he'll leave for Korea. No response yet, but he probably hasn't been online yet, either.

That is where I feel vaguely sad and wistful. This may be that goodbye I've dreaded, it may not. The thought that pops in my head again and again is that you can't lose something that isn't yours. And, I did a little online checking now that I know his last name, and it confirmed my thought I've had since the beginning; I'm 99.9% sure now that he's still married. If not, then very recently separated. Perhaps that is where his almost sadness comes from sometimes; I am sure he thinks I have no idea. I don't judge him for it, hopefully he would not judge me for my perspective, either. I adore him, and I accept him as he is for who he is. I would not want to change that or make demands on that, or create stress or pressure on the rest of his life. Our meetings have been amazing and refreshing; our txt conversation between has been extremely nurturing. He has added something to my life, and I believe I have added something to his. I don't believe I have taken anything away; I don't even believe I have taken anything away from his wife, if he is married. Remember, he sought me out and he has always pursued me. I was not the cause of any straying, and I have made no demands that would create strain on the rest of his life. I have not even asked him to lie or make any promises to me, and if he does stay in my life, I want it to stay that way.

I guess my sadness is that I don't know what happens next. It's fruitless to try to keep autumn leaves from falling. Maybe I was thinking about the fireflies because I knew this was coming, and this is a point where it may occur. I have no regrets about the time he and I have shared. Few things in life have been perfect for me, but those slices of time have been. Maybe it's better if they don't get cluttered up with the rest of the details. He has his memories, and he is the only man I have ever shared his poem with. He may not be with me, but he will remember me. Now I have to get over myself and get out of my way, and simply let things be. And in the mean time, I'll just put a few songs that make me think of him.

This song is on there because he sang it to me, along with so many other old school love songs, and it occurred to me when he was singing that it was a song I remembered from every school dance in my youth, when I didn't have a date and I felt so hideous and undesirable. I nearly cried when he sang to me, struck by the beauty of the moment and knowing that the forever is the amazing memory that will now replace all those early bad ones.