Thursday, March 27, 2008

Her-Part I

You should know that when I write She, it's not because I'm the sub goes back to something that appear on Masterpiece Theatre, a series called Rumpole of the Bailey, starring Leo McKern (I think), and he referred to his wife as She Who Must Be Obeyed. But that's not Her.

As Spielberg would and did say, long long ago in a galaxy far away, when most of you were either little children or just a twinkle in your parents eyes, She and I met. I spent 2+ years after college teaching in what is now called middle school, and relaxed during the summers leading AYH bike trips across Canada or up and down Cape Cod. After the first full year of teaching I was burned out, and looked for a trip that wouldn't tax me. The coordinator suggested I take charge of a windjammer cruise up in Maine, basically babysitting a group of teens and early 20s to make sure they didn't fall off the boat. She was the only viable candidate, over 18, reddish brown hair halfway down her back, freckles much like the girl on Lost, sitting on the deck of the boat in a Tshirt and bikini bottom, watercoloring, wearing a floppy straw hat, pitch black aviators.

We spent a week on the boat, most nights after people went to sleep we sat on deck, just sitting together and talking, I would blow off a joint, she smoked but only Marlboros (remember it was a long time ago, and most people smoked), we talked about I don't know what, no touching, no groping, no nothing, just together. She seemed like a free spirited girl, a risk taker, she jumped into the ocean just to get clean before the end of the week and it was wicked cold, she drank beer and ate lobster with two hands. Little did I know.

At the end of the trip, I was heading down to Boston to visit friends, a nine hour busride, stopping in every little town between Rockport and Boston, and she decided to come with me...a free spirited girl, a risk taker. Or so I thought.

Earworm-Randy Newman Sail Away

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

What I Said I'd Never Do

I never meant to make this blog the evil stepchild, the onerous chore that gets stuffed into the corner, glowering out, lurking, wanting attention, needing attention, demanding that someone pay attention to it, nourish it, feed it, make it whole and complete.

My life normally becomes borderline intolerable in the first four months of the year---I'm an accountant, and it's always been this way...I spend all day and much of the evening working, talking with clients, being the messenger that they want to shoot. And the amount of time consumed by obsessing about things has been compounded by an Everest of difficulties with Her, learning new techniques to deal with the difficulties, dealing with Her with the difficulties. Just having my thoughts work overtime, going to sleep thinking about things, waking up thinking about things, waking up in the middle of the night thinking about things, all of that has totalled me, left me with precious few nice thoughts and images.

But I want desperately to stay with this blog. It forces me to think and write things in an organized fashion, and elicits comments that sometimes make things clearer.

Be patient, o readers. I'm working on it.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Then Vs. Now

A blogger friend of mine, who always makes me smile and occaisionally makes me laugh (much to her chagrin) shared feelings with me about oral sex and where and when she would use her mouth and lips and tongue. She felt that oral sex was the most intimate of acts, nothing to be engaged in lightly, but only with someone she truly cared for. And then she reminded me that she always practices safe sex, including safe oral sex.

Long long ago, in a galaxy far away, we didn't deal with the variety and seriousness of STDs that people are concerned with now, and we weren't smart or savvy enough to be worried about what was out there. Condoms were for intercourse, and were for preventing unwanted pregnancies.

And so, as I sat in the dentist's chair this morning, an hour and a half into a root canal retreatment, with a big piece of latex stretch across most of my mouth, I moved my tongue around the dental dam, as the dentist called it, trying to figure out what oral sex must feel and taste like with a condom.

Having been with Her for ever so long, I've grown accustomed to her taste (and is there a song in that?) and feel, and I suspect she to mine, as we gobble each other frequently. Seems sort of sad to think that she'd be tasting latex instead of me, and I might have less of an idea of where her throat started and ended.

Somewhat sad...but somewhat wise as well, these young people of today.

Friday, March 14, 2008


No, not "Friends."

My longest running friendship is with my friend Buddy---I've known him since I was 4 1/2 years old. We went to elementary school together, albeit in different classes, different tracks in middle school, part of our high school time together, I dated a girl at his college 250 miles away, and we've stayed in contact ever since. It's a very long time, and he knows most of my secrets, most of my quirks, we speak the same language and the same shorthand.

About 20 years ago he got married, and I knew she wasn't the right woman for him. I didn't particularly care for her, She didn't care for her, but we kept our mouths shut, out of respect and out of love, because he was getting on in years, and needed a mate, needed the company, needed to share his life with someone else. Five or six years ago, their relationship has disintegrated to such a point that I felt he needed to get divorced, and soon, and I told him so. It took infinite amounts of courage on my part, I felt, to tell him his wife was horrible to him, that his son would withstand the trauma of a separation and a divorce, and to tell my oldest friend in the world how to manage his own life. But that's what friends are for.

I have a new friend, someone who seems to operate on the same wavelength that I do, someone that I care for and about, and I think the new friend may be making a mistake, may be heading down a dangerous or perhaps destructive path. And I've only known this new friend for about four or perhaps five do I let this information out without deepsixing the friendship? Can I tell this new friend, who alternates between being tough as nails and fragile as an eggshell, what I really think, without kissing the friendship goodbye?

My therapist and I work all the time on my communication skills, which are fine here, but woefully insufficient up close and personal...I'd be diving into a fairly shallow pool here with not much margin for error, and little space to turn the bus around once it starts to go downhill.

And we all know what a New York quickmouth I am.