Saturday, November 29, 2008

Unrequited dream

"Did you have naughty dreams?" he asked facetiously.

"No. I don't have naughty dreams." she admitted, sadly and matter of factly and honestly. "I have this recurring dream scape where, no matter who I'm trying to make out with -- Captain Jack Sparrow, Orland Bloom, Pete Yorn -- nothing ever happens. I mean, like nothing happens. It just ends."

"That's a nightmare," he said, surprised.

"I know, right? But what does that mean?" she pondered the missing letter in her alphabet...

Walking confession

"Have you ever wanted to get naked with this girl?" she asked him, not really waiting for his answer. This was the last of her confessions that she just couldn't hold back. She was truly enjoying their BFF-hood and wouldn't want to jeopardize any subsequent moments, dispite her long standing crush. "I only ask because if anything ever did happen, I probably couldn't handle it right now. It would wreck me in the sense that I wouldn't be able to concentrate for like a month."

Fruitful play

The long hike had left them hungry and they found themselves at the little neighborhood grocery store to fill in the gaps for their dinner menu. He grabbed the cart.

He looked at her and smiled playfully. "Look, baby, we're grocery shopping together."

She smiled back and laughed to herself. "How cute is that. We should just get married," she said almost facetiously.

He looked at her as she surveyed a pile of mangoes. "Baby, do you want to move to Brazil?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Maybe," she shrugged with a wink. "I'd have to check it out first."

Liquid assets

The four lovelies sat at the far end of the back of the Mexican joint, the last table before the stairs to the loft. It was the post-holiday Friday out, a time to catch up on the past months churning events in each of the beautiful lives.

As the stories were dished out over happy hour margaritas, a couple descended the stairs, onto their next venue for the evening. As the man walked past their table at the bottom of the landing, he turned and dropped a $20 on their table. "Just a random act of kindness," he said as he walked away. "Enjoy your evening."

This was a novel experience, even for such a set of extraordinary beauties, in such a grim economic state. They looked across the table at each other, mildly shocked at the moolah from heaven.

"We need to go out together more often," the little one said.


"How would you rate your kissing?" the suave beau asked her as he leaned against the bar.

She was standing close to him and his friend. "I'm a 9.2," she replied confidently.

"Really!?" he exclaimed, a bit surprised at the certainty of her self-assessment.

Her bravado flashed across her face with a smirk and she made her move on his friend, locking lips with her best 9.2.

Personal assistant

"What do you do?" the guy asked over the noise of the bar.

"Oh, I freelance..." she said. "Anything you need, I can do it."


There's a line from In the Land of Women uttered by an adorable foreign model to her BF from across the table of a booth at a little cafe that goes a little like this:

"I need some aspace. And I need you to give me that aspace."

Aspace is an important component to a healthy relationship, however this is more than just alone time when there's work to do, etc. Physical space, like separate offices and separate bathrooms, is key to enhancing the duration of any interpersonal journey with another.

Sunday, November 16, 2008


"I like the pace this is moving at," she said to her friend as they strode along. "I've known I've wanted this beautiful boy for months, but - for whatever reason - it's been a nice unfolding of get-to-know you. We've established mutual adoration, and I'm pretty convinced we're BFF's."

"Yeah... BBFAE's..." she laughed. "Best Friends Forever (And Ever)."

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Persimmons for breakfast

"Are you ready for this?" she asked blithely, despite the inherent weight of the proposition.

"For what...?" he asked.

"For this. For the beginning of an us," she stated intently, her gaze never wandering from his, as if she was calling for a response from his soul. "I'm not looking for a fly-by-night rendezvous. I want the real deal. I want you to want the real deal. I want to experience you as nothing but your most authentic, most present self at every waking moment. I want you to be pure love livin' it up to your true purpose with your focused love light on me. And I want you to have the the same from me. I want something more intense than a blase fling. I want raw and honest, transparent and clear, love and light and fire. I want to be mirrors for each other's growth. I want to be a tangle of lovers filling each other up and emptying each other out.... Are you up for that?"

Her early morning day dream came back to earth, back to the ripe persimmon in her hand. Upon first bite, its consummate flavors left her at a loss as to how she could have not greeted every morning with such succulence and delicious fervor. She devoured it.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

You know it's right when...

When your head and your heart agree, say 'YES.'


"Wow," her neighbor exclaimed over a bowl of coconut-squash soup. "I'm so impressed with the way things have been happening for you through all of this."

"It's really how I envisioned it 7 months ago. I guess that's the power of good manifesting," she replied.

"Yes. Clarity. You had amazing clarity -- and follow through. Not many people have follow through..."


"No! Just think of all those people who realize they are in a bad relationship but stay in them!?" her neighbor said between spoonfuls.

She looked at her teacup, considering the unfolding of the past 7 months. Then, the tag from her teabag that dangled just above the table caught her eye. She read its fortune, and smiled, still warmed with happy assurance with the unfurling still before her:

"be happy so long as breath is in you."

Written in the stars

sidereal, adj.: measured or determined by the daily motion of the stars; of or having to do with the stars or constellations


In his email the night before, he mentioned something about coming over to pick up his half of the yard tools and to drop off a frame of hers.

She didn't expect him to stop by so early the next morning. He rang the doorbell.

"Why didn't you just come in the garage?" she asked.

He shrugged.

He still barely looked at her, or listened to the answers of the questions he asked her even though it was simply small talk. Among the offerings he had brought with him -- plastic bags for the dog walks and a mis-forwarded internet bill -- was the picture of her with her beloved horse that she had given him when they first became an item. It was in a simple little frame that he had always kept on his desk at work.

She smiled as she recognized the picture, one of her favorite portraits, and then realized the significance of its return path.

Mutual Admiration Society

"The most desired gift of love is not diamonds or roses or chocolate. It is focused attention." - Rick Warren

Turn the pages

"My life is an open book," she said. "And it's not a two-page picture book..."

Monday, November 10, 2008

Recharged batteries

While it's true that batteries can only do so much... there's nothing like a little electric buddy with fresh juice to make a girl happy.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

A question of semantics

"If you say, I love you, then you have already fallen in love with language, which is already a form of break up and infidelity." - Jean Baudrillard

Love, and other disasters

From the movie, Love and Other Disasters:

Emily 'Jacks' Jackson: Stop living your life like you're in some kind of movie.

Peter Simon: Excuse me?

Emily 'Jacks' Jackson: Stop trying to cast your love instead of just meeting him.

Peter Simon: When I meet him, I'll know.

Emily 'Jacks' Jackson: I'm not so sure. Love isn't always a lightning bolt, you know? Maybe sometimes it's just a choice.

Peter Simon: Well, that's easy for you to say! You're flying to Argentina to meet the love of your life!

Emily 'Jacks' Jackson: That's just it. I don't know that Paolo's the love of my life, but I've decided to give him the chance to be. Maybe true love is a decision. You know, a decision to take a chance with somebody. To give to somebody. Without worrying wether they'll give anything back. Or if they're gonna hurt you, or if they really are the one. Maybe love isn't something that happens to you. Maybe it's something you have to choose.

Peter Simon: So what do I do?

Emily 'Jacks' Jackson: Well, you could start by putting all of those fantasies of true love where they belong, into your work of fiction.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Your mission

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all of the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."

Monday, November 3, 2008

3 AM truth serum

Their bodies were warm in the near-freezing chill of the post-party early morning air as the stars fell above them on the stroll home down the middle of the city's neighborhood back roads.

"I really enjoy your company," he said. "It's nice to be around smart people - not just intellectual, but smart people."

"Aww, I love you too." She uttered in return, as if she had read through some inherent depth of his words. (Did she just say that so shamelessly? So loosely? And, she hadn't even had the veritas serum...)

"Ah, that's what I meant to say..."

Name calling

"I think I want to get a Subaru," the car less chic said.

"Ah, yes. But let me warn you: as a single female, you'll be perpetually mistaken for a lesbian," the savvy single Subaru-owning woman noted.

"I'm quite used to that mistake in sexual identity. Besides, I'd rather be called a lesbian than a republican."

Sunday, November 2, 2008

That person

To her he was that person. The one she couldn't stop watching when he was in the room. The one who occupied her thoughts. The presence she felt when he was nearby, and when he wasn't. The one who had more than a cameo in her day dreams and manifestations.