Ici je vais à nouveau.
Eh bien, en fait je commencé à aller dans cette voie en Février 2015, je viens ai pas partagée avec le monde à ce point. Permettez-moi d'entrer à la question à portée de main - je suis tombé en amour à nouveau, et je ne peux pas me lever (et ne veulent pas se lever).
La semaine avant la Saint Valentin 2015, je décidai qu'il était temps de revenir dans le jeu après mon dernier amour avait trébuché et était tombé en dehors au cours des mois précédents. (Thanksgiving 2014 est à jamais gravé dans mon esprit comme un point de relation amoureuse faible.) Dans la cacophonie des messages, des allumettes, des clins d'œil, des diapositives, et non-sens, un homme est une démarcation nette avec tous les autres avec une question simple: un homme m'a envoyé un message simple qui dit.? "Bonjour Alors, qui est votre auteur préféré de science-fiction"
Le message est apparu sur mon téléphone, et je fait arrêta de marcher et se tenait par un arbre pour un moment 23 et le Montana, à Santa Monica. Je fus agréablement surpris, et a pris quelques minutes pour écrire une réponse, désireux de participer à l'un de mes conversations préférées. "Clarke, Boulle, Atwood, Huxley, et le gars qui a écrit" Altered Carbon ", mais je ne peux pas penser à son nom en ce moment."
Je fus immédiatement frappé par le fait qu'il n'a pas fait de commentaires sur mon sourire, ou mes cheveux, et lui ai demandé ce que je cherchais dans une relation - il a effectivement lu ce que je l'ai écrit et demandé à certains quelque chose de pertinent à moi en tant qu'individu, en tant que personne, comme quelqu'un avec un brain.That conduit à son valu le surnom de "l'auteur scifi gars» tout en discutant de mes diverses rencontres candidats de potentiel d'amour avec mes amis. (Il y avait Tesla homme, skieur, Long Beach COO, pour ne nommer que quelques-uns)
Et il a commencé. Cet échange de message initial a été suivi par une nuit de pizza, karaoké, Manhattan et Mark le karaoké Maker. Il a chanté Who "Squeezebox" et "Glass Onion" par les Beatles - les deux favoris de la mine. Une randonnée de cinq mile le long de la ligne de crête entre Encino et Brentwood. De longues conversations Deli Oncle Bernie. Karaoké à la lumière du gaz. Aller à Disney. Shopping au marché de producteurs et de cuisiner ensemble. Perdu heures à une chaîne de temps d'embrasser, de parler, le toucher, la sieste, en explorant, en riant, chatouillant, dévisager, demande, réponse, donner, prendre, manger, chanter, courir, de complot, de la planification, la conduite voyages.
Et je suis tombé pour elle.
Et je lui ai dit.
Et je pris la chance de lui dire en premier.
Je laisse mes endommagé, battus coeur respiration protégée des intempéries, et un jour aléatoire de mai, un trottoir aléatoire à Encino, vers 11h00, un jour au hasard, je me suis regardé dans son cou sur la pointe des pieds pour murmurer à son oreille, " Je tombe pour vous ". Il a répondu avec une étreinte qui était si fort, si enveloppant que je peux encore ressentir les effets persistants.
Comment pourrais-je être assez fou pour tomber à nouveau amoureux? Je suis marié trois fois, et ils ont échoué. Je suis allé dans les relations «sérieux» d'autres fois aussi bien. Comment pourrais-je avoir confiance en moi pour voir si je tombais en amour ou de tomber dans une habitude que je avais développé? Pourquoi suis-je prêt à risquer la douleur, au risque de tourment, de risquer la chance de paraître stupide à nouveau d'abord lui dire? Je pense avec le recul, il est parce que cette fois, mes sentiments étaient différents. Cette fois, mon cœur (qui, par tous les comptes devraient être, un rocher blasés impitoyable atrophiée sensibles maintenant) fait pas le choix - il a été provisoirement être touché par quelqu'un qui avait une manière d'être qui était magnétique, coffre-fort, et passionné.
En Juin, je lui ai dit que je l'aimais.
Mon histoire romantique a fourni divertissement pour mes amis et ma famille depuis des décennies. Comment pourrais-je leur dire - encore une fois - je suis en amour? Le flot ininterrompu de "Promets-moi vous ne serez jamais se remarier", "Vous savez que vous pouvez vivre dans le péché, non?" "Je pense que vous faites mieux quand vous êtes vous-même, vous êtes plus heureux seul." Je certainement ne encourage à ne pas partager les bonnes nouvelles de ma joyeuse découverte de cet homme avec mon cercle le plus proche. Je sais qu'ils viennent généralement à partir d'un lieu d'amour, le souci et les soins quand ils donnent leur avis, cependant, il reste m'a rendu triste.
19 juillet, il m'a dit qu'il me aimait trop.
Est-il écrit que si vous avez échoué à l'amour avant qu'il y ait un nombre limité de fois que vous pouvez essayer? Est quelqu'un qui reste pendant des années dans une relation qui les rend malheureux, déprimé, ou de les exposer à des abus "meilleur" ou plus de succès à l'amour que je suis? Y at-il un panel de juges olympiques attribuera une note à votre vie amoureuse à la fin de tout cela? Juste avant de passer par les portes du paradis ou obtenez sur l'escalator à l'enfer, vous recevrez votre "score de l'amour"? Je ne crois pas. Si nous le faisons, je suis confiant que je vais marquer assez bien dans Freestyle et catégories artistiques .... Je suppose que mon score dans les danses imposées sera faible.
Tout ce que je sais est que je aime les hommes. Je adore l'idée d'avoir un partenaire dans ce voyage. Je adore l'idée de l'amour. Je suis vraiment aventuré dans toutes mes relations indépendamment de la façon dont ils ont terminé. Je certainement ai pris des risques, peut-être plus que d'autres, et je ne le regrette pas.
Ma mère m'a protégé à une réunion de famille l'année dernière quand les cousins ont sauté sur le train en marche "nous promettre vous ne serez jamais se remarier." Lorsque je l'ai dit, "Non - Je ne vais pas faire une promesse que je ne peux pas garder Je suis seulement 47 et je prévois de vivre jusqu'à 100 ans - beaucoup de choses peuvent se produire dans 50 ans" ma mère a suivi avec ceci:
"Lorsque vous avez trouvé l'amour de votre vie, comme je le faisais avec Jay, vous arrêtez de regarder. Votre cœur est satisfaite. Quand vous avez pas encore trouvé l'amour de votre vie .... vous vous sentez obligé de continuer à chercher.» Elle sourit et me regarda dans les yeux avec ce regard de compréhension maternelle.
Donc, je gardais mon amour sous le boisseau pour les 10 derniers mois, en voulant éviter le jugement, des questions, des commentaires - si l'intérêt ou ridicule. Mais aujourd'hui, le 5 Décembre, 2015, je me suis réveillé le sentiment inspiré de la partager. Cette fois, il se sent différent. Cette fois, fonctionne bien différemment. Cette fois, cette fois ..... ..... cette fois, je crois quand il me dit qu'il me aime pour qui je suis et ce que je pense et ce que je fais.
Mon cœur .... ma capacité d'aimer ..... il faut un léchage et avance à grands pas.
Saturday, December 5, 2015
How Many Licks Does It Take to Get to the Center of a Tootsie Pop? Or the Center of My Heart?
Here I go again.
Well, I actually started going down this path back in February of 2015, I just have not shared it with the world at this point. Let me get straight to the matter at hand - I have fallen in love again, and I cannot get up (and do not want to get up).
The week before Valentine's Day 2015, I decided it was time to get back into the game after my last romance had stumbled and fallen apart over the previous few months. (Thanksgiving 2014 is forever etched upon my mind as a low point on the love/relationship scale.) In the cacophony of messages, matches, winks, swipes, and nonsense, one man clearly stood out from all of the others with one simple question: a man sent me a simple message that said, "Hello. So who is your favorite science fiction author?"
The message popped up on my phone, and I actually stopped walking and stood by a tree for a moment on 23rd and Montana in Santa Monica. I was pleasantly surprised, and took a few minutes to prattle off a response, eager to engage in one of my favorite conversations. "Clarke, Boulle, Atwood, Huxley, and the guy that wrote "Altered Carbon" but I cannot think of his name at the moment."
I was immediately taken by the fact that he had not commented on my smile, or my hair, or asked what I was looking for in a relationship - he actually read what I wrote and asked something pertinent to me as an individual, as a person, as someone with a brain.That led to his earning the nickname of "the scifi author guy" whilst discussing my various potential dating candidates with my friends. (There was Tesla Dude, the skier, Long Beach COO, to name a few)
And so it began. This initial message exchange was followed by a night of pizza, karaoke, and Maker's Mark Manhattans.At karaoke, he sang the Who's "Squeezebox" and the Beatles' "Glass Onion" - both favorites of mine. A five mile hike along the crest line between Encino and Brentwood. Long conversations at Uncle Bernie's Deli. Karaoke at the Gas Light. Going to Disney. Shopping at the Farmer's Market and cooking together. Hours lost to the time warp of kissing, talking, touching, napping, exploring, laughing, tickling, staring, asking, answering, giving, taking, eating, singing, running, conspiring, planning, driving, traveling.
And I fell for him.
And I told him.
And I took the risk of telling him first.
I let my damaged, weather beaten, protected heart breathe, and on a random day in May on a random sidewalk in Encino, at about 11:00 a.m. on a random day, I leaned into his neck on tiptoe to whisper into his ear, "I am falling for you." He replied with a hug that was so strong, so enveloping, that I can still feel the lingering effects.
How could I be so foolish to fall in love again? I have been married three times, and they have not worked out. I have been in "serious" relationships other times as well. How could I trust myself to know whether I was falling in love or falling into a habit I had developed? Why was I willing to risk the pain, risk the torment, risk the chance of looking foolish again by telling him first? I imagine in retrospect it is because this time, my feelings were different. This time, my heart (which by all sensible accounts should be a jaded, atrophied, calloused rock by now) was not making choices - it was tentatively allowing itself to be touched by someone who had a way of being that was magnetic, safe, and passionate.
In June, I told him I loved him.
My romantic history has provided entertainment for my friends and family for decades. How could I tell them - AGAIN - that I was in love? The endless stream of "Promise me you will never get married again", "You know you can just live in sin, right?", "I think you do better when you are by yourself, you are happier alone." certainly did not encourage me to share the good news of my joyous discovery of this man with my closest circle. I know that they are generally coming from a place of love, concern, and care when they offer their advice, however, it still made me sad.
July 19th, he told me he loved me too.
Is it written that if you have failed at love before that there is some limited number of times that you can try? Is someone that stays for years in a relationship that makes them unhappy, depressed, or exposes them to abuse "better" or more successful at love than I am? Is there an Olympic judge panel that will assign a score to your love life at the end of it all? Just before you go through the pearly gates or get on the escalator down into hell, will you receive your "love score"? I just don't think so. If we do, I am confident that I will score pretty well in the Freestyle and Artistic categories....I imagine my score in the Compulsories will be low.
All I know is that I love men. I love the idea of having a partner on this journey. I love the idea of love. I have earnestly ventured into all of my relationships regardless of how they have ended. I certainly have taken risks, maybe more so than others have, and I do not regret it.
My Mom defended me at a Family Reunion last year when some cousins jumped on the "Promise us you will never get married again" bandwagon. When I said, "No - I will not make a promise I cannot keep. I am only 47 and I plan on living to be 100 - a lot can happen in over 50 years" my Mom followed up with this:
"When you have found the love of your life, like I did with Jay, you stop looking. Your heart is satisfied. When you haven't found the love of your life yet....you feel compelled to keep looking." She smiled and looked me in the eye with that glance of motherly understanding.
And so I have kept my love under wraps for the past 10 months, wanting to avoid the judgment, the questions, the commentary - whether out of concern or out of ridicule. But today, December 5, 2015, I awoke feeling inspired to share it. This time, it feels different. This time, it works differently. This time...this time.........this time, I believe it when he tells me he loves me for who I am, and how I think, and what I do. This time, I love the man he is and not my romanticized version of him.
My heart....my ability to love.....it takes a licking and keeps on ticking.
Well, I actually started going down this path back in February of 2015, I just have not shared it with the world at this point. Let me get straight to the matter at hand - I have fallen in love again, and I cannot get up (and do not want to get up).
The week before Valentine's Day 2015, I decided it was time to get back into the game after my last romance had stumbled and fallen apart over the previous few months. (Thanksgiving 2014 is forever etched upon my mind as a low point on the love/relationship scale.) In the cacophony of messages, matches, winks, swipes, and nonsense, one man clearly stood out from all of the others with one simple question: a man sent me a simple message that said, "Hello. So who is your favorite science fiction author?"
The message popped up on my phone, and I actually stopped walking and stood by a tree for a moment on 23rd and Montana in Santa Monica. I was pleasantly surprised, and took a few minutes to prattle off a response, eager to engage in one of my favorite conversations. "Clarke, Boulle, Atwood, Huxley, and the guy that wrote "Altered Carbon" but I cannot think of his name at the moment."
I was immediately taken by the fact that he had not commented on my smile, or my hair, or asked what I was looking for in a relationship - he actually read what I wrote and asked something pertinent to me as an individual, as a person, as someone with a brain.That led to his earning the nickname of "the scifi author guy" whilst discussing my various potential dating candidates with my friends. (There was Tesla Dude, the skier, Long Beach COO, to name a few)
And so it began. This initial message exchange was followed by a night of pizza, karaoke, and Maker's Mark Manhattans.At karaoke, he sang the Who's "Squeezebox" and the Beatles' "Glass Onion" - both favorites of mine. A five mile hike along the crest line between Encino and Brentwood. Long conversations at Uncle Bernie's Deli. Karaoke at the Gas Light. Going to Disney. Shopping at the Farmer's Market and cooking together. Hours lost to the time warp of kissing, talking, touching, napping, exploring, laughing, tickling, staring, asking, answering, giving, taking, eating, singing, running, conspiring, planning, driving, traveling.
And I fell for him.
And I told him.
And I took the risk of telling him first.
I let my damaged, weather beaten, protected heart breathe, and on a random day in May on a random sidewalk in Encino, at about 11:00 a.m. on a random day, I leaned into his neck on tiptoe to whisper into his ear, "I am falling for you." He replied with a hug that was so strong, so enveloping, that I can still feel the lingering effects.
How could I be so foolish to fall in love again? I have been married three times, and they have not worked out. I have been in "serious" relationships other times as well. How could I trust myself to know whether I was falling in love or falling into a habit I had developed? Why was I willing to risk the pain, risk the torment, risk the chance of looking foolish again by telling him first? I imagine in retrospect it is because this time, my feelings were different. This time, my heart (which by all sensible accounts should be a jaded, atrophied, calloused rock by now) was not making choices - it was tentatively allowing itself to be touched by someone who had a way of being that was magnetic, safe, and passionate.
In June, I told him I loved him.
My romantic history has provided entertainment for my friends and family for decades. How could I tell them - AGAIN - that I was in love? The endless stream of "Promise me you will never get married again", "You know you can just live in sin, right?", "I think you do better when you are by yourself, you are happier alone." certainly did not encourage me to share the good news of my joyous discovery of this man with my closest circle. I know that they are generally coming from a place of love, concern, and care when they offer their advice, however, it still made me sad.
July 19th, he told me he loved me too.
Is it written that if you have failed at love before that there is some limited number of times that you can try? Is someone that stays for years in a relationship that makes them unhappy, depressed, or exposes them to abuse "better" or more successful at love than I am? Is there an Olympic judge panel that will assign a score to your love life at the end of it all? Just before you go through the pearly gates or get on the escalator down into hell, will you receive your "love score"? I just don't think so. If we do, I am confident that I will score pretty well in the Freestyle and Artistic categories....I imagine my score in the Compulsories will be low.
All I know is that I love men. I love the idea of having a partner on this journey. I love the idea of love. I have earnestly ventured into all of my relationships regardless of how they have ended. I certainly have taken risks, maybe more so than others have, and I do not regret it.
My Mom defended me at a Family Reunion last year when some cousins jumped on the "Promise us you will never get married again" bandwagon. When I said, "No - I will not make a promise I cannot keep. I am only 47 and I plan on living to be 100 - a lot can happen in over 50 years" my Mom followed up with this:
"When you have found the love of your life, like I did with Jay, you stop looking. Your heart is satisfied. When you haven't found the love of your life yet....you feel compelled to keep looking." She smiled and looked me in the eye with that glance of motherly understanding.
And so I have kept my love under wraps for the past 10 months, wanting to avoid the judgment, the questions, the commentary - whether out of concern or out of ridicule. But today, December 5, 2015, I awoke feeling inspired to share it. This time, it feels different. This time, it works differently. This time...this time.........this time, I believe it when he tells me he loves me for who I am, and how I think, and what I do. This time, I love the man he is and not my romanticized version of him.
My heart....my ability to love.....it takes a licking and keeps on ticking.
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