Dear Robert: Queer Life?

Robert was my favorite cousin. Rogers on vacation this week.

Cuz, you have been in my mind a whole bunch lately. I dont know why, perhaps its because there are so many pictures of that young fella that resembles you that tend to flow across my Tumblr dash, or maybe its all the changes in the world that have come about since you left it, but damn…I wish you were here to see things now.

I keep replaying the last time we were together. Grannys funeral in Midland, such a sad and tense affair. Nobody was expecting you or me to put in an appearance, and I wouldnt have, but sis pretty much kidnapped me and promised me she would run interference with the rest of the clan.

I was so damn happy to see you when I stepped out of the truck into that blast furnace of Texas heat. You looked like you hadnt aged a day from the last time I saw you, and I knew you would be the one with the whiskey that would be necessary to get through dealing with family.

Finding that plant in the waiting area that had leaves that looked like marijuana leaves? Hell! How could they not expect the two of us to get the giggles? Granny would have appreciated the humor of the situation.

I couldnt believe you didnt think I would want to drink after you outta your flask! What the hell? The only worry I even had about drinking with you was that you were going to drink the last of it before I got to it.

Sitting on the steps of the funeral home with you after the service, I can remember how good you smelled. It was nice to share a smoke and your flask, and every time I have a drink of whiskey and a smoke now I remember you.

Watching you walk away to your truck that day, if I had known it was going to be the last time I ever saw you, I would have told you that I loved how we were the black sheep of the family together. That I forgave you for that time you talked me into head butting that mean-assed goat of grannys and then laughing at me when she knocked my ass out cold. That I was brave enough to venture out on my own from Texas because you had done it first. You were the first person I ever knew who was gay, and I know you went through hell growing up in West Texas, but you always kept that dry sense of humor that hid the pain.You made me a braver person, and a more empathetic and compassionate person. You also made me the kind of person that will go after anyone with blood in my eye when I hear them yell the word,”Faggot” at someone just trying to live their life.

I never knew until recently that my own father was cruel to you, but I cant really say I am surprised. I was told that you knew I adored you and that brought me a lot of comfort, because I wasn’t told you were gone until after you were buried. That was my father at work. We have issues that wont be solved in this lifetime I am afraid.

You wondered why I was crying that day as we were drinking? I knew what it meant when you said your t-cells had dropped. Time was short, I just didnt know how short.

I have done my best to raise my kids to know about you. My oldest son has heard all the stories about the trouble me and you used to get into when we were around each other, and how you tried to talk me into running off to Houston with you instead of getting married the first go round. I really should have gone with you, it would have been a hell of an adventure.

My youngest daughter has been hearing stories about you lately, and I know you would have loved her. She adores the lil fella I mentioned earlier,he is a bit on the ambiguous side of things many in the entertainment industry seem so adept at working. She has seen him all done up as a girl a couple of times and instead of being all upset and disgusted or not liking him anymore, her only comment on it was,”Oh Jackson, PINK is not the best color!” She never even batted an eye beyond that. All my kids are open minded like that, even my jock of a teen son who spent time living with my father still managed to maintain his open minded, live and let love attitude.

Been working on repairing all the damage my father did to the relationship with that part of the family, and if all goes as planned, I am going to try and come see you this Summer and maybe we can share a flask again, talk about old times and maybe this lost black sheep can take some comfort that you live on in lots of good ways.I aint bringing you any flowers though, I did save a extra leaf from that plant from the funeral home.If I stick it to your headstone, do you think you will rank as the top black sheep again?

Dear Roger:I Hate Valentines Day Because Nobody is Him

Well I am having one of those ,"Emo", pity party, feel sorry for myself kinda weeks. I am more than sure Valentines day has a lot to do with it, that and just the general financial stress and shark week and all the other crap that is regularly going on in my life, but to add to the fun, the greatest heartbreak in my life,(outside of the boy who died), made an appearance on TV this week and for some damn reason some jackass thought it a good idea to sent the link to the video feed to me via my personal Facebook.

Call me a masochist, but even though I had been pretty damn meticulous about erasing all forms of contact and evidence I even knew him,(not just for my protection, but for his as well), I for some reason clicked that God damned link and I watched him. I couldn't tell you for the life of me what he was talking about, but I could tell you that his voice sound the same as it did the last time I heard it, his hands looked the same, all weatherbeaten and calloused and tanned. His face with its carefully groomed cowboy style mustache and hazel eyes still captivated me and I was lost.

I miss him Rog. I wish I could take that phone call back. I dont care what my friends and family say about how bad he was or is for me. I MISS HIM. He was the one constant in my life. An email or a phone call at least every other day for YEARS! I dont even get that from family and I damn sure dont get that from people who call themselves my friends these days. He was advice and companionship and the promise of a "maybe, someday" that kept me plodding along the road to nowhere.

The one, perfect, most romantic, Valentines day I ever had in my whole entire life was spent in his arms. There was roses and candlelight and he carried me to bed and it was something that will have me smiling when I am on my deathbed, because it was just that good.

He inspired me. He made me laugh, made me happy and yes, he broke my heart in ways that can never be explained or forgiven, but I am a masochist for him.

I was sitting in a coffee shop last week, waiting on a friend to show up and I was looking at all the men wandering around and as I looked up, there stood a man that could have been his gay twin brother. The shock about caused me to fall out of my chair. Same imposing height,(around 6'6), reddish brown hair with a mustache and that ruddy skin color that looks like hes been outside too long, jeans and boots, but this guy had both ears pierced and was wearing a t-shirt that was about 2 sizes 2 small that showed off the same physique as him, but he would have never done that. I know I was staring, but the tears in my eyes probably made the guy think I was a bit insane so he stayed away.

I tried to send a text to a friend of mine back home to tell him what I had seen, to see if he had seen him lately, and to find out how he was, but inadvertently I sent the text to the wrong number...I sent it to him.

All he replied back was,"You are texting the wrong person". I dont even if he knew it was me because my number has changed so many times, but my heart broke a little more.

Rog, I wish you were here. I am nearly 42 years old and I am so damn alone. I managed to make it less than a week and 1 kiss with a guy before I told him to fuck off because he just wasn't"Right", and the problem is, I dont know what is 'Right" though I have a strong feeling I am a big part of what is wrong.

Dear Roger:Sadistic Dentists? Hell, In A Pinch Ill Take What I Can Get!

Its been a rough few days! I dont know if I had mentioned it, but for the past couple of months I had been living with some pretty significant pain. My wisdom teeth had decided to surface and not only were they badly impacted, to add to the fun, they were also infected and broken due to damage that had been done to my jaw. You dont take hits to the jaw and not do some damage, and I had even done some damage when I wrecked a motorcycle a decade or so ago.

So anyway, the pain had reached the point where it was unrelenting. I felt like hell, I had a constant infection in my jaw and I was on antibiotics and they weren't helping. I ran a fever constantly, I was taking Vicodin and over the counter pain meds like they were pez and nothing was helping. I was to the point of desperation and misery that I didn't know what I was going to do. I hadn't been able to find a dentist to take my insurance, I didn't have the cash to pay the ridiculous amounts some were asking just to see me, and I was losing hope.

I called the university dental school and they were booked several months out. The woman I spoke to there told me to call the a number for a low cost dental clinic, and at the end of my rope, I did. I went through their application process, qualified, and they agreed to see me this past Friday.

It wasn't fancy, and in the waiting room I was the only one speaking English, but at that point I didn't give a damn. I paid the entry fee, they took me back and did the x-rays and let me tell you people were freaking impressed!

Turns out, the one wisdom tooth was putting so much pressure on things, it was displacing things in my head! It had broken the tooth in front of it, and was causing other teeth to cross from the pressure, but it was also pushing on the bones in my skull! The nurse was impressed! She asked how the hell had I been walking around like that? I told her that I had reached the point where I wasn't eating, wasn't sleeping, and was ready to step in front of a train if I didn't get help, so I wasn't coping too well . But she was impressed I had made it a few months like that.

Good damn thing I have a pretty high tolerance for pain. The dentist came in, jammed a pick up into the the tooth and I about came unglued. Blood started pouring out if my mouth along with infection,(he had opened the abscess) and it hurt like hell. He said that he needed to pull the wisdom tooth and the one in front so he was going to numb me up and pull them. It happened that damn fast! He jammed that thing in, I bleeding and pissed, and hes pulling out a needle and then without numbing the skin, giving me an assload of shots to numb up the area.

He must have jammed that needled halfway to my eye, because that is where I felt it.

He gave me the shots while the nurse was trying to keep all the blood and gak sucked up, and then after about 5 minutes he started working on getting the wisdom tooth out.

It would have been nice if he had waited until I was totally numb. I guess he figured that since I had handled the pain for so long that I must be pretty tough, and I guess I am, but when you can hear things cracking in your skull over the music you have blasting to try and distract you.

I closed my eyes when I saw the blade he used to cut around the tooth. We all know my issues with knives, but at that point I was so exhausted by the pain I just couldn't find it in myself to care. He started cranking on the tooth again and it took him a good 10 minutes of twisting and cranking and fighting it to finally break it apart enough to get it out. Then he started on the one in front. All in all, it took about 15-20 minutes, I grunted a couple of times because I was feeling it. Blood was everywhere. I was pretty stressed out when he was finally done, and the fact he dropped part of the tooth down my throat and then had to fish for it, didn't help, but I was glad it was over with. It took a bit to get my face cleaned up, and the bleeding did not want to stop, so I had to sit in their waiting room for a half hour with my face packed with cotton until they were sure I wasn't going to pass out. I paid the rest of my bill and headed home before it started raining too hard and I tried to not scare people too bad by opening my mouth or anything, because if I did, blood fell out. I still got funny looks and when I got home I saw why, My face is bruised up pretty bad. I had the beginnings of a black eye and I looked like I had lost a fight.

Once I got home I just laid down on the couch and went to sleep. I woke up much later feeling like a human being for the first time in months!

I have an appetite again, I am not in pain and it doesn't hurt too bad to smile. Its still bleeding just a little, but thats just part of my wonky genetic issues, but I feel so much better!

Son commented I dont smell or look "Sick" anymore and that I seem much happier. Well, duh! I am not in pain. I dont need Vicodin to function and hopefully the worst of it is over with. It would have been nice if it hadn't been so rough and if I wasn't so bruised, but we all know I can take it, I have been through worse, and in the grand scheme of things, its a minor bump in the road.

I got up the next day and took daughter to her testing to determine what kind of gifted she is, I cleaned house and I did my normal stuff. I didn't even take a Tylenol after lunch time.

In the words of someone I miss, I have "driven on".

Dear Roger: Dammit Doug Fir or How I Got Bit In The Ass By 100 Monkeys

So I went to another concert last night at the Doug Fir. Never mind it was a school night, or that it was colder than penguin balls outside. I had bought the ticket over a month ago and I decided I might oughta go because I had told a couple of friends of mine I was going and I thought I deserved a night out. I did not expect it to drop to sub-arctic before hand, but hey? who the hell needs to feel their feet at a rock concert,right?

I wore my 20x Wranglers and a heavy coat, my hat, some gloves and I thought I was bundled up enough, but then we ended up spending a half-hour standing out by Pioneer square watching the temperature gauge on the Chase bank register lower and lower, while we waited for the next bus to come and get our frozen asses to take us on up to the Doug Fir,(have I mentioned that when my ears and nose get cold, my happy thoughts and general pleasant demeanor tend to leave the country?), well anyway, we get there and I had pretty much already decided that if they were gonna try and make us stand outside in the cold, somebody was gonna get told a thing or two. Lucky for us and them they were letting folks in where it was marginally warmer. But one thing they did before they let us in was stamp our wrists...WITH A MONKEY STAMP. The exact same monkey stamp they used at the 100 Monkeys concert. Fuck my life.

Daughter is not a stupid child. She is aware that her favorite person in the whole world,(and yes, as I am writing this, HE her favorite person)is going to be in this neck of the woods in the next little bit. She assumes that they will of course be doing concerts in this area. She looked up Vancouver BC on a map when I tired to explain that he was still quite a distance away,"Its closer than Texas and Arizona, so I am not seeing the problem?" She wants that I should just drop everything and take her, yesterday. So we have had our issues with making why that is not going to happen, understood.

So last night, she knew I was going to a concert. I had told her the name of the guy before, but she had never heard of him so she didnt retain it. She just knew she was staying home with her brother and that I was going to the Doug Fir,(she was already suspicious), and I would be in late.

I may have indulged a bit in a few too many whiskey sours. I meant to scrub that damn monkey stamp off my arm before I got home and fell asleep, but see...the thing is, my fella...Jack, met me at the bar after the show, and being a good Southie fella from Boston, he elevates drinking to a whole nuther level.We hung out at the bar and apparently, well, I got a bit snockered.

I got home around 1ish, still drunkish and I fell asleep in most of my clothes.I had ditched my coat and sweater at the front door along with one boot and my hat. But when I ditched the coat? I left my shirt sleeve pushed up and what did I awaken to this morning? "I KNEW IT!! YOU SAW HIM!! YOU LIIIIIIIEEDDD" Now I am still a little buzzed at this point, queasy and wondering just what the hell I am being accused of by my small daughter? Why does she sound like she is accusing me of stealing her man or something? Then I see it...that damn monkey stamp! Its as much a sign of guilt in her eyes as lipstick on a collar and she is MAD! Why they had to use the EXACT same stamp they used for the 100 Monkeys show I think was just God screwing with me pretty damn hard.

I start trying to explain, "Noo baby, I didnt see them! I saw some British guy" she is snot sobbing at this point and looking at me like I killed her puppy. "I dont believe you! You just wanted to go without me! Chance said so!" (deciding at this point that her brothers guitar is getting taken hostage),my head is pounding and I am trying not to barf on her and she is getting louder. She gives me the puppy dog eyes. The look that I wish I could bottle up and send to THEM, the look that tends to make anyone with a soul and a heart, squirm in real or imagined guilt for putting it there. "Please mommy, PLEASE promise me you didnt go without me? You wouldn't do that to me would you? I love them soo much, it would break my heart if I didnt get to go! Its all I want for my birthday!(oh and that is a damn dirty lie if I ever heard one), but I groaned in pain,(very real at this point), and dragged my whiskey addled ass out of bed and I wandered into the kitchen looking for my ticket stub, which by some small grace of GOD I had stuffed into my pocket. I handed it to her and she looked at it. "Who is Bobby Long and Guest?" Well daughter, I said, hes no Jackson Rathbone and 100 Monkeys, so will you forgive me?

She looked at me,"Promise me." At this point I was ready to promise to deliver the men themselves if she would only let me go lay back down. "Promise me you wont go without me to see them." So then stupid me has to negotiate with her,"But what if its an adults only show?" She wrinkled up her nose and looked a bit disgusted, "Why would they do that?" Ahh...to be 6 again.

She still is looking at me like she doesnt really believe me, and I know I heard her humming,"Keep Awake" when I went to lay back down, so I decided it was just a wee bit more prudent to do just that, keep awake and write than to risk sleeping off the rest of my misbehavior at least until she calms down and stops sounding like someones wife I have done wrong.

Dear Roger: Some Things Are Just Better Said,Out Loud

Last night was an odd night to say the least. My son and I were actually hanging out together on the couch, just kinda doing our own things. He was playing some goofy online game and I was writing another chapter on my story,"The Face In The Rear View Mirror", when he looked at me and asked me what I was writing. I told him and for once he asked me,"Can I read it?" I was shocked. No one in my family has ever expressed an interest in any of my writing. I mean they know I write. I have talked about it for years, and my sister saw me perform my Cowboy Poetry,once. But none of them have ever asked to read it, or have shown the least inclination to find out what exactly it is that I spend my time working on. My son especially, though he did, by accident, read a little bit of the slash fic I write and he was somewhat traumatized to discover that his mom has knowledge of such things. So when he asked me if he could read 'Face" it caught me off guard. Its all stored online and in my computer, so I offered to read it to him instead, and he grinned at me, "Aunt Trina told me that is the best way to hear your stuff, so Yeah! I would like that." That also kinda shocked me. I didn't know my sis even remembered seeing me perform.

Rog, if you have never been to a "Cowboy Poetry" performance, its a little "Different" than you were probably used to. Its 1 part poetry, and 3 parts theater. Think Will Rogers style of story telling. It was fun and I miss doing it, but there is just not much call for it up here, though after last night, son was really encouraging me to look into getting back into it.

So anyway, I started at the first chapter and I began reading. I didn't just read it in a monotone, I read it in voice with emotion and everything and son went from staring at his computer screen to staring at me with a funny look on his face, and the next thing I know he had tears in his eyes. "Holy Crap, MOM!" I was there, I knew exactly where that was, I could see it all. Those things happened! You made it soo damn real! He was laughing and he asked,"Do you have more?" I told him I had 3 more chapters done and he said,"Well? read em!" But he wanted an idea of what the boy looked like, so I showed him a picture that was a rough approximation, and had him use his imagination to picture a few things different, like hair a little lighter and the nose that turned up on the end just a bit.

He put his computer down and I continued on with the next chapter and I had his full attention as I read, and when I did the voices he looked at me with something that I have rarely seen in my sons eyes,surprise.He laughed a lot during the second chapter and then he asked me,"Mom, why did you stop performing your poetry? Why didn't you go into acting? You are good! He made me laugh. I told him because being able to read a story that impresses a kid in the safety of my own living room is a hell of a lot different than being up in front of several hundred people on a stage where mistakes are not easily forgiven. I didn't want to starve, and besides, I had a kid to support. He just sat there shaking his head and saying,"Wow!" until I asked if he wanted to hear the rest of the story, and he gave the typical teenager response,'Duh!"

I read him the last couple chapters I had written and he laughed and even cried as he listened to me, until I said, "And thats all I have for now." He looked at me and said,"Mom, you have to let Aunt Trina read these, she would love them! My friends would love them! These stories are awesome, and they made me so homesick for Texas but they also took me back there too." He went on and on for a minute and then he asked, "Do you have any other stories that you can read to me?" I told him I had a couple, but that they were kinda mature content. He said," Well, could you read me the story up to where they start talking about sex and then stop?" So we sat out on the couch, with me reading my stories to him until the wee hours of the morning and he was blown away that his mom isn't just sitting here reading ,"Monkey Porn", I am writing some of it, but that I am also writing some things that he actually enjoys reading.

I am still a bit stunned. My son likes my work. He likes hearing me read it. I know he always comes out and watches when I perform 'Where The Wild Things Are" for sis and he seems to get a kick out of it, but jeeze, Ive only been doing that for close to 15 years, so I can do it in my sleep. He mentioned recording me reading my stuff to send to my sis and I dont know if I am comfortable with that. I know my son, he can be devious and I wouldn't put it past him to youtube me and that would not make me happy.So I think I will just save our living room readings for that, the living room, and share my stories with him while he is still interested and revel in the fact I have at least one fan in the family.

Dear Roger: Defining Me As A "Cool Mom?" I Dont Think I Would Say That

My son and I have our moment when we are able to have deep conversations about things that you and I used to talk about, and its in these moments that I find myself most trying to emulate you and actually draw from the lessons I learned from you.

Its not easy being the parent of a teen boy. He is a moody, difficult, and often volatile man child that seems to sometimes forget that his baby sister, who even though she got tested and proven to be a fecking genius, is just a little girl who is barely out of kindergarten. He is often ravenous, eating seemingly his weight in food in a day and then looking for more, stinky and sometimes secretive and flighty. He has taken to practicing his guitar for literally HOURS on end, and he has come up with some interesting "mash-ups" of many songs, playing them fluidly in ways that boggle the mind, and even creating his own riffs, yet when I ask him to work with me on writing music to go with some song lyrics I have written, he blushes and freezes up and says,"Mom, im not that talented and I would just mess your stuff up."

Hes talented, but he doesn't see it, though he has enough arrogance going on to realize that he is a good looking kid and he tries to capitalize on that with some of his teachers. I have even heard him flirting with some adults to try and get his way! He has managed to get meals and drinks and things like that by just batting his eyelashes at store clerks or working his dimples! He admitted that to me the other day when he came home with a soda when I knew he didn't have any money.I asked him how he got it and he said,"Oh, the lady who is the manager at the restaurant likes me so she gives me stuff from time to time when I go in there with my friends. I just kinda talk a little like thiiis (he turned on the Texas drawl) and I smile and she gives me a soda or some fries." Roger, I about lost my damn mind! I know where he learned that little bit of manipulation and its partially my fault because we had a conversation about it a while back.

We were talking about my favorite little fella and how he had gone from being a Texan to being a "Coon-ass" Louisiana boy. I had commented that playing to the occasion and turning up the accent to charm and work whatever crowd might be around, was a clever way of staying on top of things and while some folks might not like it, I didn't mind because its all part of being in that line of work. I guess my son pays a little more attention to things than I had thought, because apparently he is working it too. Jesus wept Rog, its not fair to unleash that kinda stuff on women. Son has been in a growth spurt again and he no longer has to stand on his toes to look on top of the damn fridge. He just looks and he can see if I have any chocolate stashed up there or stray cash. He went through 2 boxes of cereal in two days, a gallon of milk and a box of twinkies along with his regular meals, so food is a definite issue around here, along with buying him clothes.

He has asked about getting a job, and while I am not thrilled with the idea of him working, I guess as long as he keeps up with his schoolwork I really cant forbid it anymore than I can him growing up. He needs money for some of his own stuff, and I could use the financial break from having to buy him new jeans every month. He is also going through guitar strings really fast. He made the last set last a lot longer than they should have, and he was pretty disconsolate that his guitar sounded so crummy because I couldn't afford to buy him new strings for so long. If hes putting in the effort to practice and get good by playing for 4-5 hours a day, then the least I could do is try to indulge him that little bit.

He has started letting me hug him again! Thats a good thing because he went through that whole , "Im a guy and too big for my mom to be hugging on." so I had missed getting hugs for quite a while. Now he often grabs me and hugs me before he leaves for school in the morning and we ALWAYS say a hearty round of ,"I love you's" each and every day.

He told me I am a,"Cool mom", and I asked him why he would say that? I often doubt my job as a mother. In fact I feel I have failed on so many levels. I have made horrible choices in men, we are chronically poor and he has had to do without a father, a safe and stable home, and many of the things that normal kids have in their lives. I am moody, often self-centered, and often sick or dealing with stress or health issues that make me difficult to be around, but my son tells me that he has never doubted that no matter what, no matter if he was the biggest pain in my ass or if he failed or if he made mistakes or even if he was mean to me, he knew I loved him. He said he knew that no matter who he chose to love, I would love him and eventually them(his girlfriend is growing on me), but if he had been gay I would have loved him the same. I never falter in my love and devotion to those I care about because of things like that and it has made an impact on him. He now thinks the same way. I commented about a daughters love of a certain young rock star being something that is going to lead to a rude awakening for her some day, and he said,"Yeah, but she loves him no matter what and you do too and that just means you have raised her right and that you are a cool mom." I dont know when I became so open minded about these things, maybe it was after realizing that all the secrecy is what killed Robert and all the bigotry and hate is what I resented in my father, or maybe it was just realizing that love is love is love and whatever side of the biscuit that someone butters is just their business and if they are lucky enough to have love in their life, then they should be allowed to enjoy it as long as they are both consenting adults.

My dating is going well. I have met a guy that didn't flinch and run away screaming when I tried to scare him off and it looks like I will be seeing him again. Hes not some young hottie, but hes funny and smart and an artist so we will be able to have a pint or two together and chat about things.

Dear Roger;Who Knew It Would This Difficult To Get Laid?

So I am full force back into the dating world I guess you might say, and its pretty interesting. Men are a little different or maybe I am different. Not wanting a man around full-time kind of puts me on a different footing with them than I used to be, and though I enjoy their company, I can be much more picky than I used to be. I really want a younger guy to pal around with and kind of just have a casual, "Friends with benefits" thing, but it seems that its difficult to find such a critter up here. The two guys I have gone out with so far have been interesting, and I had a nice time, but there was no real spark or chemistry and to be brutally honest, I want a man that is just gonna want to make me jump him in the bushes. Its been so long since I had a good solid trouncing, that I just really cant even think straight about half the damn time. Seriously, women get those urges too and its really kind of difficult to get through the day, seeing all these hot young men scrolling across my desktop on my computer, and realizing that my only source of relief might be a few moments alone in my shower with a bargain basement shower head.

I am in shape. I dont stink. I cant get knocked up. Im not diseased. SOO...WHAT. THE. HELL?

I am just about to the point that I would pay for it, but I am poor, so I would have to pay for low rent pecker, and God only knows what that would result in...

I registered on a dating website after being cajoled into it by a friend of mine, and its resulted in some interest, but the results have been...odd? I have some things that are deal killers. If I write in my ad that I am looking for a guy that is capable of carrying on at least a coherent conversation and who is fit enough to survive a date with me, and a guy responds with an email that I cant even translate with my teen helping me, and the picture looks like something off of the beginning of the "Biggest Loser"(dont watch that crap, have only seen the commercials), then I am just going to hit delete), so I dont end up wasting his and my time. I dont have a bias against heavy guys, but I want a guy that can keep up with me, and if we weighs 300lbs, that aint going to happen.

My first date was interesting. He was a hot little Romanian guy that I would have gladly drug off into the bushes. He has this smile with dimples and green eyes and hes in great shape and...oh my goodness does he WEAR HIS JEANS! but...hes old fashioned, traditional, doesn't speak English so good, and it would be a LOT of work to get the point across to him that I just want uh...you know? It sounds terrible, but I have some guys I can talk to now. That is so nice. We talk music and art and Bukowski, Waits,guitars , beer, guns, cars and dirty jokes, and hopefully we will meet up and have a beer and a smoke soon at Kells. I miss hanging out with guys and especially guys that are younger minded and full of fun. I am working on getting back into the world I left, and maybe that will solve my lack of pecker problem, but the whole dating thing is so different than it used to be it kinda freaks me out.

I dont like guys that are into sports too much,I dont like guys that are prejudiced against homosexuals or other races, or guys that are rude to people. Im just freaking picky I guess. I like guys that are a bit weird and quirky and free spirited and most of all funny and able to laugh at themselves. I like guys with hair. The guy I went out with yesterday was a shaver, as in he shaved his head, and I was a bit disappointed. I mean, I like a guy with hair for a reason. I dont care about the color or the style or anything like that, but I like him to have some.Tattoos are nice, I have tattoos that arent flash tell me that there is an edge to him, kinda like me. Piercings are interesting, depending on the location, but the one thing I really dont care for are the ear vagina's. I dont get the whole,"Lets make the ear lobe have this HUGE gaping hole that will hang and look really weird when I am old" thingy...its a bit gross and kinda a deal killer. Im not a big drinker, but I will have a Guinness with pretty much anybody. Dont like big fancy dates, and Im not impressed by fancy dinners out. I prefer to meet and have coffee somewhere so we can sit and talk and I can see if there is that spark of interest that will fuel the fire. I haven't felt it often, and the few times I have felt it,its been when there was no chance of it being lit and burned. The slow burn I used to have is still there and still so far away. I miss it, and perhaps that is what keeps me from being willing to settle for less the perfect burn, but I do know I wish that something would come along that would light me up and make me forget all about the old embers.