the lost boys…

Back to chronology I go, and please remember Dear Reader, I often jump around.  I promise to keep you informed of where you are with me today, so that you don’t get too hopelessly lost in my brain pockets.

After the first few look-throughs, a guy came along that seemed rather interesting.  He was a lawyer, did pro bono work, used to be a radical, had pictures of Picasso line drawing prints on the wall behind him.  Sparce minimalistic spaces, but hey, it’s likely his office.  He’s slender, looks sweet, a Nam Vet (hmmmm…but it’s my generation) and when I look at the pics in uniform, he has this body language that looks sorta soft and a little beaten.

I ignore this.  He was probably tired that day….

We begin writing little notes, and he is smart and well intended, and soon I see he’s ‘Favorite’ –ed me.  That means I go in a special file for him, and a special file for me too, and I get a notice.

It’s my first one!  So I favorite him back…..  and I get a **Kiss** in the old In-box.  Hmmmm (sorry, that’s Your mind there)…

So he immediately suggests that I “come on down, I’ll cook”.

Well, that’s cute and all, except that he lives 200 miles away, oh maybe Four hours’ drive…. Not really my cup of tea, thinking about being stranded somewhere at someone’s house I don’t even know, fer cris’ sake.                      My note is short and sweet (really!)…..

Something like:  not in the mood right now to drive four hours, just got off the road from a winter in SoCal and 3 day trek, but it was a sweet idea…. Sort of thing.

And I added…. Hmmmm …..maybe it would be fun to Talk on the Phone or something….?

Never hear from him again.  No, Not Kidding here…….Geeeesh….                       He sure didn’t Look like a Player…..

One time weeks later, there was a quick cautious IM there on my screen….  Oh!  It’s from John…..  he waited maybe five seconds…. And then he was Gone.

Disappearing Acts.  That’s a chapter in itself.  And I do believe it is another Type….. Number 4….      Are they chicken?  Get cold feet?  Change their minds and don’t know how to say it?  Have another chick on the line?  Likely lots of reasons, but No answers, so they all go in the Disappearing File.

The next one was sort of interesting.  He kept pestering me, and frankly I thought he was simple and a little boring.  Likely I was right in the long run.  Often times our first instinct is correct, but I tend to be the “don’t be so bloody judgemental already, give the poor guy a chance” type.   Which is likely one of my major MOs that get me into the predicaments I find myself in.   Rescue, compassion, ‘aww, bring the puppy in from the cold, I have lots of milk’ …sorta state of mind.  …..What…?

So he shows one picture.  Him in the woods with a chain saw.  Now I love manly men, don’t get me wrong.  He’s lookin all burly, all ‘I-can-do-it-all-and-smile-too’ sorta thing, but frankly he didn’t have much to say, so …. What’s one to think?   What ever you want to, I guess…..

The weeks go by, and every now and then there’s a short, brief, (did I say short), email from Michael.  Well that’s his name on the site.  Michael something.

He talks about nature, asks what I mean by Nature is my Church ( uh…I’m thinkin not too complicated, but…)  and when I explain, he says something deep like ‘Duh’, and so then I have to tell him, must fess up to my First and Foremost response, before his persistence wore me down….the chain saw act just doesn’t put across the vibe of the Nature Man.                                                                                       Manly yes, nature no.

Well, this gets him going, and along with mentioning that he’s so So curious about me, and that I’m So pretty (third time), he says he just Got that chain saw, was cutting a felled tree, cleaning a neighbor’s place, blah de blah, and ends up smelling like some really nice herbs, with roses thrown in .                   So, I start paying a little more attention to ‘Michael’, who turns out to be Gary later on, and that’s a nice name too, but I prefer Michael….                         Don’t ask why, just do.

We go to straight emails, and he sends me pics…. Everyday…. Pics of the House he built, tales of the houses and lands and businesses …. One was a Health food store…. That’s hopeful…..  and I think well, hell, this is a man of substance.  Maybe not a lot of words, but here he is with thirty some odd acres, a house he built with 3 bedrooms….. it’s really cute with the front porch and timber supports, and that cabin-y feel….  And I can see myself moving down there (yes, it’s south, and anything south appeals to this NW Oregon girl), and near some really fab towns like Ashland, and a day’s drive from the NorCal coast, and sheeee-it.                                                                                I could have my own room, put flowers on the porch in big pots, start a nice garden that I’m sure he would plough for me…..Sounds like a possibility.

He can Perform.  He sends pics of him on a bike, scarf tied around back like a biker, and pics with his buddies, and he looks like a big cuddly bear guy, which I have soft places for.

And he LOVES my writing…. Keeps sayin that…. Loves my writing……                                            oh tell me more baby….

He tells me he’s ADD/ADHD, and I respond No Prob, because actually, I understand them pretty darned well.  Lots of friends of mine, and my brother too.   They are just with special ways and powers, and are usually brilliant, so I actually enjoy their brand of brain chemistry….  One thing for sure…. They’re not boring.

One problem.  As the weeks go by, the conversations usually go like this:    Today I blah blah, got this done, took a nap, beautiful evening, we could sit on the porch and tell eachother stories.

Ok…. I can dig it.  But a little romance, some talk about Something, Tell me some stories, and a little impressing me first, please, before we settle into Ma and Pa Kettle-land.   In case you, my Dear Readers, do not Grok this reference, they were a series of movies back in the forties, a bit comedic and slapsticky, the ole down-home-cookin-flapjacks-on-the-griddle, chase the chicken outside sort of genre films that my Dad really enjoyed.                     And Grok?  Well, read Stranger From a Strange Land.

I’m getting bored.  My problem, but I’m being honest here……. Bored……..  I suspect this guy is best served Warm and in person.  And I truly wish I could just transport myself down there, and feel an afternoon with him, check out the lay of the land, see what’s possible with this fellow…. Acreage and large cabin-y house, with a guy who can build things sounds really nice about now…. but it’s down to the State Line, about 6 (at least) hours away.

So I say Hey!  How bout we move this ( insert the R word ) to the next level, and you give me a call.  Wouldn’t it be fun to talk a little?   I include my number.

The next email is typical chatty in three lines.  It’s cute and winsome…. turquoise dolfins swim in the background……But he does not address the Question/Suggestion.

My next email…Hey!  why not give me yer phone, and I’ll call You sometime…. And I said something light and silly about maybe him having a girly voice and I don’t care ..haha..  Whatever….sorta thing…..                             Next email….. blah de blah….  Nada.

So I left it.  And apparently he did too.  Maybe some chicky grabbed him up, what him with a house and property.  You know how those women folk can be.  They’re downright aggressive, if you know what I mean….. I’m not, at least anymore.  I let things ride, let them percolate, mellow yellow.    And he being a man of little words, couldn’t just come the fuck out and just Say it.  Whatever it was…..?  was he intimidated by my wordliness?  Did the very thing he said he Liked now Intimidate Him?

A few weeks later, I am curious, and also a little bummed that I can’t fantasize about going down to near the NorCal state line and checking out this possibility for this very woodsy woman here, that really, truly wants to go back to the woods.   So I drop an email to this Gary-Michael guy.

“Hey there”, I say. “You sorta just dropped off the planet there, and I was just wondering if there was something I said or didn’t say, or if some new girlie grabbed you up, or what ever.  Just wondering what the reason might be that I haven’t heard from you in so long…”

The answer came very immediately, and in the form of Two emails.

Email 1……   “The Answer is……………..”

Email 2……   “…. there is no Answer…”

Oh Excellent….  Nice……Thank You!……Go figure please…..  Do not understand here ….     For me, a girl, I go…. Does he want me to pursue him?  Does he want me to go away?  Does he not know what he wants?…                              I opt for the latter, and let it go.

So….. mr house and property…… mr lawyer good doer……. All Gonesies.                                  No answers, no goodbyes, no Guts…..

Oh well….. plenty more where they came from, I guess.  Trouble is, I have to read all their stories, and I just want some great hunk to be in front of me as           I believe in serendipity, and I Really Believe in Chemistry.                                       And may I say……….the internet is not Chemistry Conducive…                          Strange, this whole Context, cold and distant, safe yet completely unpredictable.    Anyone can say Anything, Be Anything…                                   ….. and how do you even Begin to Know?