What Would You Do?

Damn Shame Edition:

What would you do if your wife/husband of 15 years, whom you were deeply committed to, grateful to have in your life and loved. The mother/father of your child, after a set of twins being still born and numerous miscarriages, whom you'd known and loved since you were children...

Left you to "be" with someone in prison who'd been incarcerated for 20 years with another 20 to go?

Seriously. If your husband/wife left you to pursue their passion and be with their soulmate who was currently detained by the Penal System, leaving you and your toddler to fend for yourselves..

Would you..

Beat some sense into them?

Help them pack because clearly you are better than this?

Have them committed?

Check your fiances to make sure that this con hadn't robbed you in your sleep?

Seriously? If your husband/wife chose to leave a comfortable middle class lifestyle to be with a jail bird, what would you do?

Sometimes

When the car crossed the bridge into Manhattan and I saw the skyline jutting against the gray sky, my heart sighed. I love this city the same way I have loved men, with passion. I knew this was meant to be a short trip, which meant I would have to pick one person to see and have one quality visit. I don't always like making that decision but it is what it is, when you have 72 hours in town and most of those hours are dedicated to working.

So I called him He was the only one I wanted to see, he is my port when my ship needs harbor, when life feels stormy and when I need a touch stone to get me through, which is not to say that I use him. He just IS a piece of home inside of me, he's someone I can call and call upon which is to say that in a sense that still makes him mine, to me and me, his, at least sometimes.

There are 8 million people in this city, that's what the cute bellhop reminded me when I said I was meeting my Ex. 8 Million different people, including the cute Spanish guy that I had been eye balling since check in, including the cute hip EurAsian bellhop I was flirting with, including the masses of people in cars on bikes and in Rickshaws coming going through the streets, but I only wanted to see him.

I wanted to lock arms like we did in the early 90s, Pre Gulianni New York, when we could drink beers on the streets on hot nights, dipping from bodega to bodega for another cold one when it was too hot to stay inside. I wanted to talk story like we used to say in Hawaii and ask about friends and laugh about life the way that we always could, in or out of love. I wanted to drink, possibly too much and dance for him they way I always have, because only he can appreciate my off beat moves and jutting hip bones contrived into some kinda shape or another.

I wanted to study his face and pick apart his Grandmother's Chinese eyes and talk about the times, when we both had older siblings. I wanted something that I can only get from family and certain friends, people who have known for 15 years or longer, and since I'm so far away from my family he would have to suffice and like He says sometimes our Ex's become our family and he has kinda become that by default.

Sometimes we're too close, so close that much of this year I didn't see him when I was in town. there are 8 million people this town and that's what I was thinking when I tried to branch out and see other people...in New York.

So I tried new things and kissed new men under street lamps and had new experiences but at core this town will always mean him to me, even when we're apart he's the one I think about so this time I made a bee line for him...emotionally.

The lobby was loud and DJ was playing and the city was calling and it was dark but it wasn't late and I was ready for a drink, and it was almost 5pm and certainly 5pm SOMEWHERE so I told him I wanted to have a drink.

He got into a cab to meet me downtown, which is big for him as he really likes to stay closer to his neck of the woods and as soon as I saw him I knew I'd made the right decision. In his fall suede jacket, slacks and button up, preppy and put together grown man style, and we locked arm and took the city head on, by foot and wandered the streets aimlessly until we found our watering hole.

What he gave me in those hours of warm talk, and company was healing to my very soul. We couldn't have been any closer and it had nothing to do with sex. Sex isn't the only way a man can be inside of you..

When the cab dropped me off at my hotel I was reminded why I'd ever fallen in love with him and sometimes, on nights like last nights, I wonder what would have happened had we tried again...My sister says it will break my heart if he ever finds someone else, and she's probably right so until then we'll have nights last night probably sometimes, I'll wonder about what if.

Public Service Announcement

Gentlemen:

Do NOT succumb to wearing your pants so low that your ball sack is visible. Although it is overtly sexual, it may not be considered SEXY by many if not most.

We do not want to see your ball sack, your penis imprint or any combination which is why instead of wearing our underwear in public we wear clothing. When your pants are below your ass and showing your ball sack technically your are unclothed...and nasty looking.

Thanks,

Management

It's Official

Every single time I leave LA I get waay more play. I mean to the point that it's noticeable and making me realize that I should consider moving....Except that I love being a California girl.

Maybe I can import a man...

This comes on the heels of having more dates in one week on the road than I've had in two months in LA.

Reunited

So this past weekend was my 20 High School Reunion. It came quickly. I was meant to be at least 20 pounds lighter, wealthier, married and more successful by now. Hell, there was a time I thought I'd be a retired millionaire, but when the weekend rolled around, I was a little curvier than intended, single as a dollar bill, working hard, yet not quite what I'd consider successful and not sure what to think about the whole thing.

High School wasn't really my thing. I always dated older guys, none of which attended my school. I was bad. I smoked pot, I fought, I cut class, I cursed, I dated boys with fast cars and fast money. It was the 80s and I was an 80s child. By the time I was kicked out of my all girls High School and put into public school I wasn't quite sure what to expect. There was many students in my graduating class as there were in my whole all girls Catholic High School.

No more uniform was supposed to be a blessing, but now I had to keep up with the Joneses on designer labels and hand bags and such. I didn't have a click, as I was more of a floater. I knew allot students but kinda wandered between crowds, Rockers, Misfits, B Boys, Prepsters and whomever else I fancied. I stayed away from jocks, no particular reason except for those days I only had a hankering for college hoops and was often known to cut class during the Final Four...

I digress.

So I didn't know these kids well, as a matter of fact I would say that I have gotten to know more of my classmates post High School than I did while we were all on the same campus. I wasn't exactly nervous to see them, yet I know this was a milestone event. They say that the 20 year reunion can be the most polarizing and it will set apart the haves and have nots, the dids and didn'ts, so on and so forth.

So there I stand firmly in the middle. Still hot, but a full figured hot, exciting career but doubting my success, wondering if I even bother wrangling a date, I mean could anyone else besides a spouse or long term relationship even be subjected to such madness? Then of course comes the outfit, what to wear? Too much spinning in my head, not enough time to really make sense of it. Off and on airplanes and back and forth across the country, but the time the reunion came around I was pooped. Then my Executive tried to project his negativity on me, telling me that the only reason why anyone would attend would be to show off and why was I even bothering?

I was attending because this is what the living we. We celebrate life, as it comes.

So I stuffed myself into my dress, spanx pantyhose with the seams up the back, red patent leather peep toes with all back everything else. Did nails toes eye brows, gave myself a facial, deep conditioned my hair and yes I had a break down or two along the way, but I was committed not just to facing my past but embracing my future. Head held high I walked in, paid my monies and took my seat...alone.

There's something different about being single at this age. It's less about anything than what's best for me. I could have rounded up a man to be on my arm, but I'm not really dating anyone whom I care to introduce to my friends, so why bother. In that moment that I walked in, I felt free. Free to be myself, to mix and mingle, flirt, hug, kiss, laugh and cry and not have to worry about anyone but myself and my own good time.

It was a great feeling. To just own up to this is where I am in life, and I'm fine. I make decent money, I have a great job, little to no debt, and my best relationship I've got going with myself is with myself.

And that's exactly what I was thinking when the guy with the great eyebrows walked in, the one I had no idea had even gone to my high school. The one I'd flirted with the last time I was home...and then things started to look even better!