Hi honey, I'm missing you, I'm back home after a very literary day, a writing workshop this morning at the Persian-inspired estate, and just now a reading by a cast of young international writers, from the 'local international arts colony,' at a wine & cheese reception in a lovely upstairs brownstone space in town. I'm alone as I ever was on a Saturday night, or any night. It's okay, I'm not in a bad mood, after all I'm nicely dressed, and sated on nibbles of divine fancy crackers & a selection of perfect cheeses, hard & soft, not to mention bites of foccaccia, soppressata, and green olive, served with various wines (it was a wine tasting too), of which I chose a minerally rose. My kind of party food -- oh, and the readings were very good too, though by the end, with ten readers -- it turns into a bit of a marathon, and I was getting mighty restless. But I stuck it out, and am glad I did, and not only so that I wouldn't look like an inconsiderate idiot for leaving.

I am missing you. I'm reflecting more on personal turns of events in recent days, and my gut is telling me it's not going to be satisfying for me... I like the guy and everything... but --- he doesn't really seem all that interested in me, not really -- well, he is consumed with his own problems, which are not inconsiderable, that's for sure, he's a good guy, but very very preoccupied with his own stuff -- there's hardly room (if he's the type at all?) for him to really be so interested in who I am, how my mind works, where I come from, even my blog. I mean, he is dyslexic, so it's kind of ironic that he's such a loquacious storyteller -- and I'm a writer, and he can't read my stuff, not easily anyway, and I don't have the 'gift of gab' at all, so I can't regale him back with story after story about myself, not that I'd even want to. Still, though, I am feeling this lack of balance, of the relationship (if that's what one could call it) being on equal footing, reciprocal. I don't know. It's not easy. I'm going to be taking some wrong steps, not that I regard what's happened as that, it's just that I don't really see him being as the solution for filling the gap in my life -- though I may very well be precisely what he's looking for to fill the gap in his. Oh, anyway. So, yeah, I'm back trolling CL ads, even halfheartedly responded to one this morning, which is making me feel a bit... loose? Which I'm not -- it's just this preliminary trial & error thing going on, right now.

I know I'm just babbling & belaboring, but I was thinking about those flowers, tulips as it turned out, that I had been so completely intent on bringing to the apartment, just as a way to make the place, for even a couple of hours 'our own' -- as opposed to 'some guy's apartment that had been abandoned and will soon be flipped & re-rented.' I pretty much ditched the flower-project in the kitchen sink, the buds had been tightly closed when I left the house, but by the time I arrived in the city, they had blowsily bloomed wide open in the hot car, almost to the point of explosively losing their petals. I think I was just trying for a gesture of romance, of poetry, of slowing things down just a bit, introducing another sensual element. I don't want a relationship where I drive for 45 minutes only to arrive in some indifferent place and somehow I'm supposed to be fully turned on already. Don't men know anything about women -- yet? I mean, men of a certain age? Of course I'd like to share a bite to eat, take it slow a little bit. And if you only have a two-hour lunch, and you feel the clock is running -- is that really my problem? Or do I wish it to be? No, I really would like something more than that.

Maybe I'm being a little too hard in the cold light of the day after, but I don't know. I think it explains some of the performance anxiety -- on both our parts -- because the moment was rushed, a bit -- though it's understandable, especially with nerves, our first time, stakes high, and all that. Still, I have to wonder how romantic, or seductive he might actually be capable of being in any future encounters -- I'm not quite seeing it, he's like this wonderfully charming, warm teddy bear (sexy, handsome teddy bear). But very much, I'd say, a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy -- not an International Man of Charm & Mystery, such as ahem.... sweet darling.

Well, at least I was able to sublimate today a bit today, what with scribbling notes about dandelions, and about listening to the sound of the earth move, this morning -- and delicious bites of -- I have no idea what those cheeses were, but oh they were divine. Fortunately, this woman of voracious omnivorous appetites can manage to get it on for herself somehow. It was lovely leaving the reading just a little while ago now, twilight descending on busy, stylish, hopping Warren Street, Saturday night restaurants in full swing, including sidewalk tables. It's such a mild balmy evening -- it's only mid-April, yet it felt festive & mild & magical as a midsummer night's eve -- which is when I might see you again, so isn't that a nice sustaining thought to buoy us both, maybe. Til then I'll live on hopes & kisses & dreams & pink wine & awesome cheeses & roast chicken & vegetables, the aroma of which is wafting up the stairs, I thought I wouldn't be hungry but now -- gee, I don't know, I think I could go for some...

Sweet dreams, darling, wherever you are
I hope you're having a wonderful weekend
xoxo
love, Belle