Meanderings

 I sat on the bed watching him get ready for work. I took out my phone and I don't think he noticed, but I started to take pictures of him. He stood there looking so serious. Collar flipped up on his light blue dress shirt. Flipping his tie over and over to make the perfect knot. I'm fascinated by the colors in his beard. I've never seen salt and pepper look so attractive. What is it about him that drives me so crazy? He is everything I've waited for. Everything I've asked The Universe to bring me. I don't really have a purpose to this post tonight. I don't have a particular story to tell. I think because it's just been so long since I've written anything, I'm completely backed up and I need to start unloading so you'll understand how I got here. It's been a ride, that's for sure. I've gone from my last entry of meeting my wonderful Eclipse Family down in Dowell, IL to losing my apartment and succumbing to total homelessness for seven and a half months to getting back on my feet and finding the love of my life in a pandemic. I mean, who does that? I should have the fucking Rocky Theme playing when I enter a room. These last years have humbled me. They've helped me in so many ways. You really find out who you are when you sleep in your car and eat your meals from the gas station but still show up for work every single day and nobody is the wiser. Luckily I had wonderful friends who helped where they could. But I really think it made me appreciate a lot. It also made me strong. And it brought me M. Right now as I type, I am looking over the laptop and I see him watching the Baylor/Gonzaga game. I can only see part of him. His daughter sits to his right working on her homework. She's the carbon copy of him. She's strong. She's fearless and not afraid to speak her mind. I love her spirit. I've spent the day laying around his house, talking to his mom, folding laundry, eating, watching tv, looking out the window. It's been the most relaxing and delicious day. Time for bed. I appreciate you taking the time to read this. No dance break. Just sleep.   

What Do You Mean You Don't Have Ice?

 

It’s funny. I could tell you I knew immediately. Which I did, but that seems a little Pollyanna-ish of me to say. When Mike came over for the first time to my little apartment in Arlington Heights, I lived on the top floor of a two-flat. I buzzed the door and told him to come up. As soon as he opened the door at the top of the stairs to where the four apartments were on that floor, I saw his kind eyes (framed by his perfectly dark eyebrows) and his beautiful smile.

I knew I liked him.

What I didn’t know is that my neighbor would charge out of his door and block Mike from getting to my apartment. Very awkward first meeting is happening in three, two, one… “I am SO SORRY if my dog has been loud. He’s a puppy and my wife and I just got him.” He’s standing in between us, and I’m trying my best to bat my eyes and smile and doing the usual, “Nice to meet you,” kinds of small talk. “Oh, no. I haven’t heard him at all,” I say. “Do you want to see him?” “The puppy? Absolutely!” The neighbor jumps back into his apartment and I’m more nervous now than I was pressing the buzzer to let in the stranger that may kill me. Well, at least now my neighbor will be able to give a description to the police if I turn up in a refrigerator or anything. “This is Boston.” He’s holding an adorable puppy. Mike and I are both petting this puppy and laughing. It was so weird…but not in a bad way. We say our goodbyes to Neighbor-Guy (I can’t remember his name) and we walk into my apartment. I shut the door and let out a big exhale. “Would you like to sit down?” And that’s how it began. We sit on my chocolate-brown couch, I have some show playing on the tv with the volume down. I have the closed captions on (this will make sense later), and we’re talking, getting to know each other more. He made me laugh the whole night. Sidebar: those of you who know me well, know you will never win me over if you can’t entertain my mind. I used to ask G-d or The Universe or whatever is the higher power out there, to bring me someone to love but the prerequisites were: You had to love my children. (we’re a package deal). You had to be kind. (I’ve had enough mean-spirited, abusive assholes in my life to last ten lifetimes). And you had to have a wit/sense of humor that matched or was better than mine. Ok, sidebar over. Back to the couch. Mike and I are sitting there laughing, talking, learning about each other. He's so handsome. It's been about an hour, and he turns to me, lowers his voice, looks at me seriously and says, “Hey, can I ask you something?” I bite my bottom lip, smile a coy little smile, and I have no idea what he’s going to ask, but I’m intrigued. “Sure. What do you want to know?” (Hair flip, smirk) He pauses, leans into me, and says with a straight face, “Are you fucking deaf or something? What’s with the captions on the tv? G-d, I hate reading.” My eyes open wide, and I answer him, “Oh my G-d, you’re hilarious. My daughter put the captions on, and I have no idea how to turn them off.” That was the moment I melted.

 I knew I had to see him again.

Ask me about the next time we were watching tv and he wanted me to put the game on. “Um, I can’t. I don’t have live tv.” I thought he was going to have a stroke. But…he still came back. He’d bring food and we’d eat on my couch watching Netflix or Hulu (I didn’t have a table to sit at…If you know, you know) and he said to me while waving his hand in front of his face, “Ah, the shine is all off now.” He said this because when Mike eats, (this night was Wingstop. It was still COVID, and nothing was open for dine-in) his nose gets all stuffed up, his eyes water, it’s amazing to watch. I sat on my little corner of the couch and ate in awe of this sniffling, crying man who strips a chicken wing like nobody’s business. Every time he'd leave, and I couldn’t wait for him to call me, so we’d talk on his drive home. We’d talk until one of us fell asleep (it was always him, lol). Wait…that makes it sound like he’d fall asleep driving. He didn’t. It was when he was home already. And he’d be snoring on the phone. I didn’t care. If I couldn’t physically be with him, at least I was there in spirit, I guess.

I knew I really, really liked him.

I don’t know if I am ready to write any more than I have already about how he was there for me when my father passed. I don’t think I can right now. It’s still too fresh and I'll start crying at my desk. I will say this: We met in late November of 2020. My father passed in late April 2021. Mike’s dad wasn’t doing well, either. When my father died, Mike took days off from work to be with me and my family. He bought dinners for the family, drove me back and forth every day from Norridge to Joliet and back to Norridge. The drive back home was always the worst. I was emotionally drained, silent, physically spent. When I slept at his place, he never really knew what he’d wake up to. I could laugh one minute and be hysterically sobbing the next. The shower was where I'd lose it the most. He never complained. He never said anything like, “But who’s going to make dinner?” (Again, if you know, you know) Mike helped me pick out the clothes my father was laid out in and helped me with every detail of his funeral.

What the fuck? I just stopped to reread what I have been typing. I am so sorry. That really took a weird turn. Yikes. Still there?  Whew. I am going to stop here for a while and pull it together. I just wanted to tell you that although he makes me laugh until I have tears rolling down my face and it hurts to breathe, he also is the kindest, most gentle soul that has ever lived. I could say I knew I loved him at more than a dozen times in the span we’ve been together. Truth is, I don’t think there’s been a time when I didn’t love him. I can’t decide if I’m going to publish this yet or where it should go. As always, thank you for reading and humoring me. If you made it all the way through, I am grateful. Here’s the dance break songs I chose for today:

“You Make Me Feel So Young” – Frank Sinatra

“Heavenly Day” - Patty Griffin

I am Grateful for:

Hot showers

Nightly (delicious) dinners that end with coffee

Refrigerator Tetris

Morning dancing and general weirdness

Laughing until crying and vice versa

Do you have your glasses? Don't look at it!! (Howl at the moon part 2)

I opened my eyes and looked out the top of my tent to see it was daytime. The other campers were slowly starting to stir. My watch says 6:48 am. YES! Almost biscuits and gravy time, lol. I have been making a conscious effort to not eat meat and to try not to eat dairy. It’s not because I’m one of the die-hards that hold their fists in anger, “Chickens are not nuggets!!!” “I don’t eat anything that has a soul!” Mine is more for the, “I don’t want to die at an early age or get diabetes.” Ok, here’s a question: Is it normal that every time I hear or say the word, “Diabetes,” I’ll say it twice? Once the normal way and then I say it like Wilford Brimley, “Diabetus.” Yeah, you heard it in your head that time, didn’t you? You’re welcome. But, when it comes to certain things, I will put my mostly vegetarian hat away and eat me some animals. I walked down to the fire station where the breakfast was going to be to get a cup of coffee.  The women of the board were in the kitchen cooking and had been there since 4am. I had a sip of my coffee and asked if they needed help with anything. A looks up and says, 

“Well sure. Come on back here wash your hands and put on some gloves.”

I hopped up and went into the kitchen, excited that they would let me help instead of the very polite, “Oh, no, we’ve got it. You are a stranger and we don’t want you in here.” Whenever people ask me what they can do to help when I’m cooking in my kitchen, I try to give them a task. They feel useful. I get to drink wine sooner. 

Min comes into the firehouse and I say, “GOOD MORNING!” It took her a second to realize it’s me back there. Mostly because she’d been working for 17 hours the day before in the heat. The look she had was hilarious. I help the girls out for a few orders and then when there is a lull, I grab a biscuit, some bacon gravy, and a maple sausage patty. So good. I know there are some of you reading now and making a joke in your head about how it’s not kosher, bad Jew, etc...I haven’t said anything about me being Jewish at this point to anyone and I’ll tell you why I am saying this but I’ll talk about it later when it’s more relevant.  More people are coming in and out. Everyone’s excited about the eclipse later and talking  around the table about what a good time they had last night. The Ohio family comes in to eat. It’s a husband/wife team with a boy (6) and a girl (4) that are just cuter than all get out. I talk to kids all the time, I think, because of Gymboree.  I honestly had never even diapered a baby before my own. Now I can’t believe they pay me to play and act like a whackjob at work. Through conversation, the husband who is extremely lanky with black, curly hair, wearing this super-tight shirt so you could see his ribs, talks about his time in the Army and the three tours he did. He was in inteligence and still has the highest security clearance. I would’ve never expected that. The way he and his wife spoke to their children was such a gift to see. Earlier in the morning, the son had wandered off into the ball field, still completely visible from the family’s tent, but when Dad called him back, he got down to his son’s level, looked him in the eye, and explained in very simple terms why that was not acceptable. He gave him a hug and told him he loved him and the boy went back to...doing what boys do. I don’t know why that sticks out in my mind so much. They were the type of family you’d see living in a commune. This whole thing kinda felt like a commune. I feel like I should be playing, “Aquarius,” in the background.

 I go outside and Min is there,

“Hey, I have to go run some errands, do you want to go with me and see the town in the light? We can go see the inside of the bar, too.”

We had taken the cruise in this dune buggy type car thing (yes, my male readers, I said it) the night before and I had seen literally everyone’s house...and still made it back in 6 minutes.

“Heck yeah!”

It was about 10am when we parked in the middle of the road. Seriously. The middle of the road is where you parked and the outer aisles is where you drove. When you walk into this bar, it is really taking a step back in time a hundred years. There’s old pictures and catfish mounted on the walls, a tin ceiling, it smells like cigars, and The Price Is Right is on the tv. What the fuck happened to Drew Carey, by the way? He looks like Achmed the Dead Terrorist for Christ’s sake. Drink a protein shake or something. Anyway, we walk in and the Mayor and another gentleman are sitting at the bar talking to the bartender/owner.

“Hello!” greets the Mayor. He’s hillarious. One of those guys that says things just how they are and that’s what makes it so funny. “Do you girls want a beer?”

Now, I try to make it sound like I’m a good girl and that I’ve never had a cocktail before 5pm. Stop laughing. “It’s only 10:15 in the morning.”

“It’s 5 o’clock somewhere,” he says with a laugh.

So of course we did. The funniest part about it was when Mayor tells the bartender we needed beers, it went like this:

“Hey, D, these girls need beers.”

D dips his head and looks through the tops of his eyes, “...so go git em...”

That poor man had to get up, walk around us to go behind the bar, get the beers, open the tops, give them to us...and then D made him pay for them on top of it all.  I was laughing.

“Here,” he tosses a coaster to me on the bar, “use this.” Then he gave me a pen with the bar’s name on it. I knew he liked me.

“Ah!” I said, “This is a swanky place. Pinkies up everybody.”

It was the tastiest beer I’ve had in years. Min gets a call to take the leftover b&g to the church freezer, so off we went. Min’s husband is a deacon at their church. It’s a pretty church, too. I get the tour and they have one of those tanks to be baptized in. Not just a little sprinkle of water in the face...this is one where your whole body is submerged under water. Holy shit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of them in person. I don’t even know how to put this in or where to put it in, so enjoy my disjointedness...I normally don’t censor myself about being Jewish. I talk openly about my son’s bar mitzvah coming up or I’ll make a joke about something not going so good for, “my people,” or joke about my nose job, but I was nervous to say things like that here. It wasn’t until we were back at the pavilion waiting for the eclipse to happen that it became more prevalent of where this place of goodness was coming from in Min and the families I’d met. Did I think they would kick me out or ask me to leave...no. I just didn’t want to be the different one again. I was already the poor little thing from Moonstock, lol.

We were all sitting under the pavilion, on the flat bed of the truck, on the grass, on swings, everywhere you could think. I think I was on my second shaved ice when Min and Z decided to pray because Z was getting anxious about the eclipse. I can’t lie, I was nervous, too. I was thinking it would be a hell of a story when I got to heaven, though, if this was the end. I watched Min hold her daughter’s hand and we all bowed our heads to listen. It was peaceful. Children around us playing on the stage, singing in front of us like they’re performing like all kids do. Every few minutes Min would step out to the sun with her solar glasses on and come back, “A little bit more,” describing the eclipse starting. It was still hot as the freaking equator outside and when you looked at the sun through the glasses, it looked kind of like a light bulb. When the sun was almost covered and there was just a sliver of it left, I looked around the park at the trees, the people, and everything looked like I was looking through an HD filter. All of the shadows were these short, squatty things, the wind didn’t pick up and it didn’t get cold like I thought it would. It felt a bit dull.  Not boring-dull, but dull like there was soundproofing in the air. No echo, no sound bouncing off the pavilion roof. Flat. Does that make sense? The street lights started to come on and the cicadas got louder. And then, darkness. I saw at least four stars. We all stood around and you could hear the ooooh’s and ahhhh’s of everyone there. I missed my kids at that moment very much. I was witnessing this monumental event. The sky looked like there was a huge, perfect hole in it. I’d never seen anything like that. And I was alone. I allowed myself 10 seconds to feel sad. Only 10 seconds, but I had to give myself permission to feel it. A minute later the eclipse was passing and we cheered. A few seconds later you could hear the next town cheer. It was cool.

“Ok, I’m starving, let’s go eat. Robyn, you wanna ride with us?”

“Wait, are you sure you want me to go with?”

“You’re family now. You’re stuck with us.”

Driving with Min, Z, Z’s boyfriend, and Heffe (a dear friend of the family who lives with them because he needed the love around him) to the restaurant we break into an imprompteu, “Total Eclipse Of The Heart,” but it is this crazy version I’ve never heard before that had the word fuck in it about 10 times that I think they said was from Old School. It felt completely normal...well, MY normal. I sing with my kids all the time at the top of our lungs...doesn’t everybody? And when no one is singing, Z’s boyfriend, B, is beat boxing and just having the time of his life all on his own. Heffe has this low voice and talks with that soft drawl. His sense of humor is dry and makes me laugh with his straight delivery.

At the table I am told I have to have the fried pickles and try the mac n cheese bites. They have bacon. Well, there goes my vegetarian card again.

Jay asks me, “Why don’t you eat meat?”

“Because I have high blood pressure and diabetes (diabetus) runs in my family, so I’m just trying to be better at it.”

“Oh, I thought maybe it was because you were Jewish.” The way he said it, I wish you could here it the way I did. When you read the words, you could’ve interpreted it in so many ways, like, was he joking? Was he saying it with any negativity? But it was so the opposite. Jay is this sincere, kind man, which I think compliments Min perfectly. She’s a very tell-it-like-it-is person that will turn your water off if you are late, but will also take in a complete stranger who needed a place to lay her head. So when Jay asked me, I answered, “Well, yeah, that, too.”

Heffe snaps his fingers and points at me like he just answered the daily double, “I knew it!”

“I can still stay, right?” I laughed with just a touch of serious

“Of course you can. Why would you ask that?”

I can’t remember the awkward shit that must’ve come out of my mouth, but Min looks me in the eye and in the most matter-of-fact voice says, “Jesus was a Jew.” And everything I was worried about melted away. I grew up in a town where there were very few Jewish families. I went to Catholic school. I’ve never really had any issue and there’s been only one person in my whole entire life that called me a dirty fucking Jew. Gotta admit, that one hurt. In all honesty, growing up I had a much better understanding of Jesus than I did of Judaism. The men I’ve loved the most in my life were born again Christians. The greatest love of my life was Pentecostal. My natural mother is born again. Maybe that’s why I felt so at home. Food for thought. Today I got a message from Min saying that B had made a comment today that he missed me and I gotta say, it made me misty. Also, the Mayor missed my happy-go-lucky face. It made me feel good that I made an impact on them like they have on me. My life...my life is far from ordinary. I have proven to myself time and time again that I can be afraid, but still be courageous. I meet wonderful and amazing people wherever I go and it’s because I make the decision to do so. I could’ve easily said, “Fuck it,” after the first drop of water hit me in the face or after the first three hundred crickets hopped on my tarp or the fifth time the, “Howlllll at the moooon,” assholes came riding by. Like attracts like. I didn’t belong there. I found exactly where I was meant to be with the people I was meant to meet. As cliche as it may sound, I had one of the best trips of my life going to see the eclipse in Southern Illinois. Moonstock was the lesson I needed to receive Dowell...Cuz dat’s how we do well. (sorry, inside jokes aren’t funny if you’re the only one who knows it)

Take in a big inhale with me and blow it out. Thanks. Ok, it’s time to go back to the top and try to make sense of all I’ve just written. Oh, and I was added to the community page on FB. I’m an honorary member. Thank you thank you thank you for all of your kind words about my writing. It’s a passion. I write how I talk. So once you get the cadence of how I say things, you’ll hear it in my voice...unless you say Diabetus.

Tonight’s song choice:

Total Eclipse Of The Heart...I mean, come on, you saw that coming, didn’t you? Play it right now and sing like a mental patient for at least 30 seconds

I am grateful:

Quoting movies that make you laugh even if you don’t know what it’s from

Barbecue sauce mixed with ranch. (It’s not really pink, though)

Shaved ice that falls all over the place

Jay’s dad buying lunch

Hot showers and jello beds

Pop, sodas, and cokes

Howl at the mooooon

An hour has gone by and I am still sitting on my couch with my yellow fuzzy blanket. I have been toying with the idea to go to Carbondale to watch the eclipse. A friend posted that he was going down in his RV and did anyone want to go. I was thinking to just pack a bag but I missed my window with that ride. I’ll just go alone. I made a couple of inquiries online and waited. after hours of research I decided not to go, but to work instead. But I still had this strong pull to go. I’ve always been impulsive when it came to traveling. I have traveled alone many times and have never been afraid to go somewhere solo. Eat dinner alone, yes. Stay at the bathhouse alone, of course. Fly to NY over and over, no sweat...This doesn’t feel right the way I’m starting to tell you about my weekend. New start:

I finally pulled into the campground after the 6 hour drive from Deerfield. I’d finished two audio books on the way down to Southern Illinois. One of them being, “Many Lives, Many Masters.” It’s a book that usually helps people with the grief of loss. It talks about how we’ve all been in each other’s lives in one capacity or another and I truly believe it. I believe everything happens in its own time when it’s supposed to. You can’t rush it.  Whether you believe in G-d, Jesus, The Divine, The Universe, Buddha, or whatever you call your higher power, that is yours to have. I have always felt that there is definitely something out there that is greater than myself, we just use different names. Different ships all heading to the same port. Anyway, pulling into Moonstock, which is where I ended up claiming a tent site for the next few nights, there’s six cars behind me, and the 15 y/o signing people in looks like she’s about to cry.

“Well, we ran out of spots for the tents, but we’ll have to make some over there” She motions to an area that looks like it’s been uninhabited for a decade.  A young gun with blonde, curly hair tells me to follow him on the golf cart. I follow him around, looking at all of the RV’s and tents already in place, to the grasslands. I back my car in next to a married couple unpacking and looking just as thrilled as I am to be setting up camp on the Naked And Afraid side of the campground. I’m wearing flip flops. I always wear flip flops. I step out of the car and my foot sinks down about five inches under grass, weeds, about a gazillion black crickets all jumping across my skin, grasshoppers, mud, sand, scary monsters, and shit nightmares are made of. Fucking awesome. Now...I realize I am a delicate flower. I scream when I see a spider. I hate bugs. But I love camping. I love sitting around a fire, looking up at the stars, meeting new people. I push through the scared, and I lay down my tarps. I’m sure I was pitching my tent on an entire population of crickets but I told them I was sorry and appreciated the sacrifice they were making for me. I set up my tent in the 92 degree heat and 1000% humidity and thus began the buckets of sweat that emanated from my body that continued until Monday. I’m a lady. I glisten. I glow. Not this time. I was sweating like a whore in church to the point of where I just didn’t care anymore and would just wipe my sweat on my shirt looking like I was on Girls Gone Wild or something. I just wanted to have a bed. It was getting dark, so I went exploring. There was NOTHING to do. I walked around and was bored to death. Nobody was sitting talking or hanging out in groups having fun. And it seemed everyone that was there was already completely shitfaced. Nobody was friendly or making eye contact except one guy who so graciously asked me in the most sincere and wasted voice,

 “Hey, um, hey! Hi. Um, you wanna get high?”  Absolutely! I would also like you to take this hot poker and jam it into my eye because I think that would be just as safe.Maybe you dipped that in window cleaner. Are you fucking kidding me?

“No thanks, Honey. I’m good.” I smiled.

“Well I was just asking.” He seemed genuinely offended.

“Still good. Have a good one.” I think it’s very important to at least be polite to people who offer you their drugs. I read it in Emily Post chapter two.

By 8:30pm I was done. I walked back to the tent swinging my machete through the thick jungle where the married couple were sitting amidst the creatures with a fire ring.

“Hey, Robyn. Wanna come sit with us?” The wife asks

“No, thanks, though. I am just tired from the drive. I’m going to get in the tent where it’s safe and probably just go to sleep.”  How in the hell are they sitting outside and expect to have any skin left? I leap into my tent with my muddy shoes on and get into bed. There’s no way in hell I was going to leave my shoes outside the tent. I’d wake up and some fucking grasshopper would be hopping around wearing my converse and I’d have to get into an altercation. (Remember, Z, violence is never the answer) It is so humid that there is condensation dripping down from the top of the tent sounding like a drippy faucet in an old house.

Around maybe midnight a truck starts driving up and down the rows of our tents honking and men are yelling out the window, “Whoooo hoooooo!!!! Howl at the moooooon.”  Ok, it’s camping. No big deal. The guys who were on the other side of me have now come back and are complaining about how the grass isn’t mowed and the port-o-potties are already overflowing. I hear one of the men yell, “What the fuck are you doing, Dude? Get the fuck out of here. Oh...Oh...you wanna go? I will kick your fucking ass, you fucking fuck!” Now come on...there are so, so many words in the English language. There are many words that would’ve fit the situation, but apparently this was the only one that would do for the situation. Remind me not to play Madlibs with this guy...

“Ok, give me a noun.”

“Fuck.”

“And a verb?”

“Fuck.”

“Uh, ok. Name of someone in the room?”

“That fucking guy over there,”

“Perfect. “

Turns out the guy he was yelling at was Drunky McDrunkster-wanna-get-high-guy. And he was peeing on their site. They chase him off and I can hear the footsteps coming towards me.

“Hey...Hey, who’s in there?” Drunky asks

“Someone you don’t know!” I say in a very stern voice.

Chapter 2 of Emily Post’s book of etiquette can blow me. I am not really panicked because I knew there were people around me it was almost time for the truck to come back again with their, “Howl at the mooooon,” bullshit. Two more tents over is another couple that are yelling full voice at each other using many more words than just the Fuck Guy. I was very impressed. But it was loud. It’s now 3am and I’m praying that the Moon Howlers aren’t going to be so drunk that they run my tent over, the married couple for some reason are constantly getting up and walking to their car to get something and slamming the car door every time, the Fuck Guy is actually pretty funny and I’m enjoying listening to his stories as he tells his group and at some point made mention about the jungle we were in and how there were probably meat-eating hornets ready to pounce come dawn. 4am and the Howling Mooners are now just howling like wolves. A final drip of condensation drops onto my head and I make the decision to pack my shit as soon as the sun comes up. 6am I open the air mattress and it makes the WHOOOOOOSH noise. I put my wet shoes on and take the whole production down. I roll up my sopping wet tent and throw everything in the car. I don’t care if I have to drive all the way back home, I am getting the hell out of Satan’s living room and getting coffee. Bye Moonstock...It’s been real.  Beep, beeeeeeeeepppppp HOWL  AT THE MOOOOOOON!!!

I sit at the IHOP in Carbondale. I have nowhere to stay. All the hotels are filled. Airbnb people are asking $2500 for a single room for a single night. Wait. Is it a solar eclipse, or is the Messiah coming? I have coffee and a veggie omelette (because I am trying to be a vegetarian) and I scan my emails again. I send an email back to one of the local towns that had responded to me saying they had a space for me, but they were only having it for the Sunday-Monday and that’s why I’d ended up going to Moonstock, because I wanted to come down before that. I usually don’t use names in my blogs, just first letters, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing if I use partial names today to keep people straight. Min was my contact for the event that was happening in a small town about 20 minutes away from Carbondale. I called at 7am hoping someone would answer the phone there and I could find out if I had a place to go or if I’d be sleeping in the Walmart parking lot. Min answers and I am hoping she remembers me from my emails. I tell her about my Moonstock fail and ask if there’s still room for me.

“Oh sure! Come on over. We asked people not to come before 1, but I’m here. Just come and we’ll help you carry your stuff and set you up.” Sigh. Thank you, Universe for taking care of me.

“Awesome, I’ll be there soon.”

As I drive, I pass the sign for the town I’m going to. Population 400. I don’t think I have ever seen a number that small. I pull into the parking area where the Village Hall, the Fire Dept, the baseball diamond, and a table under a canopy where people are sitting. I put my window down and am greeted.

I wish I could make the story shorter, but there is just no way to do it. So much happened in those few days, that it’s almost hard to believe. The hospitality and small-town goodness that followed has completely restored my faith in people. I am a good person, I know that. That’s how I suck in all this crazy-goodness. But I am also a little cynical, too. I am not trusting like I used to be and tend not to believe people right off the bat. But this was different. It felt like I was safe and like I could rest. So, bullet points, I guess. Min lets me on to the ball field to set up my tent. Tells me her husband, daughter, and daughter’s bf will help me. “C’mon back up when you’re done and you can hang out with us under the tent if you want.” Min’s daughter, Z, helps me set up my tent. She’s fifteen and a pistol. She’s confident and naturally beautiful, looks me in the eye when she talks, and is respectful. I was impressed. Min’s husband, J, and Z’s boyfriend come and see if I need anything else. They take my mattress home to blow it up because I don’t have the right pump. I walk back up to where Min is sitting under the canopy with a big fan pointed at us. There’s an older man sitting with her with a baseball hat and a t-shirt on.

“Robyn, this is our Mayor.” I have been here 30 minutes and I’ve already met the mayor? Awesome.

I ended up meeting everyone who sits on the board of the town at some point. I met the old mayor, too. I sat up with Min and other people who would come in and out to help for pretty much the entire day. Zo would come up and I’d hear about what school was like for her with only 24 kids in her class. Every car that would drive by, an arm would come out to wave and we’d wave back. I’d leave and come back to go get food and a new person would be there to meet and they’d say,

“Oh! You’re that poor girl that went to Moonstock. I heard about that.” And now you have to hear the voces in a very soft southern accent. It’s not a hard drawl. It’s really soft on the ears and makes everything seem nice. It fit to go along with the personalities of the people I met.

“Jay, if you can’t find the pump, I’ll just run home and get mine,” one of the women said. It was so nice. Everyone is running around trying to find a pump to blow up my mattress and I was just happy I had somewhere to lay my head come nightfall. More people are checking in from all over to camp with us. Ohio, Maryland, Wisconsin. Families, Young people, locals, everyone setting up and each person was friendlier than the last. After hours of me sitting up there with Min and the board, Min tells me she has to run to the office and if anyone comes, I know what to do. “I got this.” Around 8pm Jay had set up a screen in the pavilion for everyone to watch a movie. I’m still up under the tent with people, shooting the shit and laughing at stories that we all exchange. There’s a man sitting across from me. He reminds me of an actor I’ve seen on tv. And every time he opens his mouth I have to stop him and say, “Wait, wait, wait...this is what I heard you say...” I’d repeat it back to him, and he’d say in his accent, “Yup, that’s what I said. We had to dive down to put floats on to get the houseboat that sunk, “ or, “Yes, he and I have the same father. His wife and I have the same mother. They’re not blood related at all, but I am to both of them.” I can’t tell you why, but I was just fascinated by this guy. He just seemed so comfortable in his own skin, you know? I’d listen to him talking about his business to the other men that were sitting at the table and he spoke like he really loved what he did. Man, he was a hell of a shit-talker. He could easily take it, though. I am so not doing JJ justice. Maybe later. I just liked him.

Z and her friends came up by us and the relationship she has with her mom is like mine with my girl. I wondered would she and my girl get along? I think they would because they have the same good qualities. They were all such good kids.

The movie ends, it’s late and now the lack of sleep is catching up to me. I say goodnight to everybody and get into my tent leaving my shoes outside the door. It’s quiet. All you can hear is the crickets, the cicadas and the whirring noise of my fan. The stars are brighter and I see them through the top of my tent. I say a prayer of gratitude for this day and all of the good there was and I drifted off to sleep.

There is no way I can finish this in one installment. I haven’t even gotten to the day of the eclipse. There was a biscuits and gravy breakfast for everyone so I paused my vegetinarianism for the meal. I had shaved ice in the unbearable heat. Min took me with her to run errands. How do I even tell you about the bar over the railroad tracks that is a hundred years old that we went into and had a beer with the Mayor at 10am quickly? I can’t. I think one day I will record my stories so you can hear it rather than read. I just don’t have the patience to finish this right now. I am absolutely beat. I still have to tell you about the eclipse and how amazing it was. How we all went to lunch afterwards:

“Are you sure you want me to come with?”

“Of course! Robyn, you’re family now. Get in the car.”

I didn’t get to the part where I found out Min and her husband are pretty much the surrogate parents to a lot of the kids and have helped out people in ways that made me honored to know them. Hearts of gold, I’m telling you. All of them. What a gift I was given this weekend.

I’m sorry to end here, I’m just so tired, but don’t want to let at least this part go unacknowledged. I will have a part two. I’m kinda hoping there will be a part three...they have karaoke once in a while at the bar and I hear it’s quite a night.

I like to end with songs that would be fitting for dance-breaks for my experiences. I’d have to say my picks for right now would be:

Howl At The Moon by Ozzy, of course

Here Comes The Sun by Nina Simone

Running On Faith by Eric Clapton

I am grateful for:

Tarps that keep the bugs out and the ground dry

Rides in weird cars that include tours of the city

Laughter...lots of it

Fans

Stories that are just too crazy to be made up

Vienna sausages in the can

Dog shampoo to get rid of turkey mites

Mac n cheese bites and fried pickles

Air conditioning

Lemon shakes

Population 400+1

Thank you for indulging me by reading this. I am so full of gratitude. I hope you find what you are grateful for tonight.  

Wait...so that's a thing?

     [Yesterday] was a tough day. I wrote for the first time about my friend whom I lost and it took quite a toll on me. I figured...let's follow it with one that would make me feel better. I am going to definitely run this by a certain someone before I publish because I have a feeling this may get a little personal. Read at your own risk. sidebar: I asked him if he'd be ok with me publishing this and he said nonchalantly, "sure." I love the free spirit he is. I love his fearlessness. Thank you, Honey. I wrote this because I really feel like we have a great story. xoxo

     About four-ish years ago, when I first started going to karaoke shows after my divorce, I frequented a pub that I still go to on a regular basis. The guy who runs the karaoke there is responsible for all of the friends that I have right now. S has been the catalyst of so many friendships and has brought an island of misfit toys together. I really feel like he is our glue. There's a lot that can be discussed in the short amount of time it takes to pick your song and put it in the queue. I've had conversations that have ranged from serious relationship advice to let's-guess-who's-not-wearing-underwear-tonight. I really don't know how he tolerates us sometimes.

     One Tuesday night my group of best friends were sitting at our table. I guess kind of like in school in the cafeteria. We had our area and people knew it was/is ours. I go to karaoke because I like to sing and I happen to have a kick-ass group of friends who can all really sing. Yeah, there may be a few random clinkers here and there where someone would get up and sound like a dying cat, but who cares? It's supposed to be fun, and that it has been. A lot of times if people are talking and I want to listen to who's singing, I'll get up and stand by myself. As I'm standing there, another group comes in. People know them but I'm thinking, "Who just came into my bar?" Not in a bitchy way...ok, maybe a little bitchy. I'm territorial. There's a couple that walk up to S and it's obvious he knows them. The girl, when she is talking, is beautiful. She radiates a glow. Is she the typical societal glow...no...she's got wild black curls and a smile that made you want to be near her. The guy she's with seems much more reserved. Quiet. He smiles with his eyes behind dark-rimmed glasses and looks like he's going to picture day at school with his collared shirt and sweater. I've soon learned that I'm about to hear some crazy singing from the girl so I should hold onto my hat. The music starts,
"So 1, 2, 3, take my hand and come with me because you look so fine and i really wanna make you mine."
She smiles when she sings and looks like she's having so much fun, she's so at ease, and wow, she sounded like an angel. I had a new girl-crush for sure. It's time for the quiet one to sing. By this time I've walked back over to my table and started talking to R talking about how good my new crush was. I wish I could remember the song he sang.  I want to say it was, "Oh Darling," maybe by the Beatles, but I'm not sure. What I remember is Shy-guy starts to sing, I looked at him, I looked at my table of friends, I looked back at him, I turn to my friends and in the loudest voice I say,

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" 

How do I describe this without sounding trite? Imagine a singer who's not looking at anyone in the audience because he is staring at the words on the screen while holding the microphone stand with both hands. Now imagine the seemingly nervous looking singer opens his mouth and his soul is bared to everyone. If you can imagine when you hear a song on the radio, or even in person, that touches you. Almost like the music floats down from the sky and wraps around you like a soft blanket. That's what it felt like to me on my skin. His voice has just a touch of grittiness to it that makes you pay attention rather than talking to your friends at the table and looking at the Cubs score on the tv. I couldn't believe it and just kept saying, "You've got to be kidding me," as I've been known to do when I think something is that good.
     Time passes. Years in fact, since that night. I would see both of them out, but they weren't together anymore. I would ask ( LL) if he would let me pick a song for him to sing and he would always say yes to me. Did I have a crush? Of course I did. Did I ever think anything would ever happen? Fuck no. I'm a hundred years older than he is, and my usual type is tattooed, loud and obnoxious, bikers who may or may not have a drinking problem. If there were a polar opposite, LL was it. I would still flirt with him and tell him he could sing me the phone book and I'd listen over and over. (Start over at the A's again...) He'd still hold the mic like it was trying to escape his grip, he'd still maintain eye contact with the screen or sometimes even close his eyes completely. But his voice...
"...Free me, leave me
Watch me as I'm going down
Free me, see me
Look at me, I'm falling and I'm falling..."
Is it weird that I can't remember what I had for breakfast today, but I can remember this song he sang two years ago at a place in Mount Prospect?
While all this is happening, in my parallel universe I'm dealing with a man who would break my heart constantly. I became so broken and triggered easily by choices made that I'll probably talk about later. I don't want him to taint my writing here.

     About two months ago R and I go to a different venue for karaoke. It's not S doing it and I am pretty spoiled by his sound system and him so I'm a bit of a snob...hard to believe, I know. R's kids are with their mother for a vacation and he needed to get out. I was happy to meet him.We see some friends who are in our social circle and although the music was making my ears bleed, it was possible to scream your conversation. LL walks in. Oh yay! His eyes aren't smiling. He doesn't look himself.
"HEY! How are you? What's wrong?" I scream into his face.
"It's nothing. My girlfriend and I just broke up..." (more talk about what had happened)
"Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry." Screaming this just didn't have the soothing effect I normally would have wanted.
LL sings a song that I'm pretty sure had meaning behind it it. It's pained and has this dubstep-y part to it that makes the audience wooooohooo. He looks different to me now. His dark hair has grown so long that the curls are more relaxed and the loose curls that fall around his face are perfectly imperfect. He can put it up now and I really like it. I'm a big fan of longer hair. Not a big fan of body hair, though. There's something about a man taking off a sweater, but looking like he's still wearing a sweater.  (shudder)
    LL is fun to flirt with. He's quiet, but assertive. Funny as all hell, too. Although he looks sad, distracted, his eyes show me who he is. He's free. He's...free. This word just keeps coming to my mind.

     After a few weeks pass, my kids leave for camp and I am feeling incredibly blue. I go out on a Thursday to one of S's shows and I get to see the crew that I only get to hang with in the summer. I'm chatting with the girls, having drinks, meeting new people who have come into the fold, laughing a lot.  LL walks in. The same shy boy I saw 4 years ago, (now, I don't mean boy like he's a kid. He's definitely a man, but I saw him differently back then) walks in to [bar] and our friends are rushing up to say hello to him. People are genuinely happy to see him and that makes me feel good. I can't think of one person who has ever said, "Oh, fuck. LL is here.  What an asshole." Nobody. What is it like to be held so high and yet maintain this humbleness? He comes over and says hi and something snaps in my brain. God, he's sexy. How is it I'm just noticing this?  I walk over to S at the dj booth and I look at one of my girlfriends who is sitting up by S and I say, "I totally want to make out with LL tonight."  Now, this is not something I would normally just come out and say about LL. Never has that even been in my mind. Without missing a beat, Rh says to me, "Ok, take this cigarette. See if he wants to go smoke."
"But I don't smoke."
"Who cares! Do you want to get some alone time with him?" As she's saying this to me and handing me a smoke, LL walks by with cigarette in hand and asks me, "Are you going outside to smoke?"
"Yes...yes, I am." How did I sound like a game show host just now?  I turn and get the ok-eyes from Rh and out the door we go.
flirt...flirt...flirt...eyelashes...smile...(I'm talking about me here, not him.) We talk about everything and nothing. It's raining on us.Not hard. It's so hot, I welcomed it. He's adorable. Soft voice. Easy. We've both have had a few cocktails. I'm skinning my hair back over my head out of my face.
"Do you want to go in?"
"I ain't made of sugar, Honey."
"Do you want me to light that now?" He motions to my cigarette.
"Um, LL, I have to be honest with you...I...don't smoke." 
"Really? So?..."
"This was a plan so I could be alone with you for a bit. Rh helped me."
"Wait...there was a plan? Nobody's ever made a...plan. That's awesome."
I move towards him and now we are standing talking uncomfortably close. I look up at him and smirk. More talking about nothing...

BLAM!

 The door swings open, "Hey, LL! You wanna go smoke?!" LL says ok, asks if I'm staying, then off he went.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? NO! COCKBLOCKED!!! No, really. If he would've turned around and saw my face, it was like the commercials you see where Sarah Mclaughlan is singing and you have the dogs with the sad eyes looking through the holes of the fence, shaking. "...In the arms of the angel..." I swear I should've just thrown one of the tables at her and knocked her out cold so he would've stayed. Some time goes by but it seems like three hours. I am not leaving here without kissing that man. Let me tell you something about me.  I've been skinny, I've been fluffy, it's never made a difference in going for what I want. When I taught at the pole studio, I was the heaviest girl there for a while. Then I got a divorce and the weight fell off...and now back on again. When I would dance, never did anyone say, "Look how big she is." I've never let my weight deter me from anything. I don't know why I felt compelled to say that. It's weird...more men seem to approach me when I'm heavier. Hmm, don't know. Ok, back to LL. My mind is made up. Pucker up, Sir, because, oh, it's SO going to happen. But then more time passed...(another three pseudo-hours went by). So I decided I'd get in the car and just go. It's not meant to happen. Get a grip, Robyn. Why would he want to be with you like that? Rh comes out to leave, visibly upset about something happening in a show she's in. She sees me and starts to talk. LL moseys up and looks at me like, "You're leaving?"
"Well the least you can do is get out of the car while we smoke," Rh tells me.
I get out. I go back to the hair flipping and eye-making at LL. His smile is beautiful. Rh leaves and it's me and LL alone again. More close talking. More of me giggling like a schoolgirl. I come to terms with either I am going to have to make this happen or I may be waiting until the Messiah comes.
I stare at him with my head cocked to the side, my eyes squinting, "I am so going to put my face on your face right now." Wait...What? that's what you say to him? I couldn't help but laugh at what I'd said. Through his laughter he says, "Ok."
Oh fuck! He said ok? I realize now I have to do it. He called my bluff.
"Uhhhh...you ready?" Oh my God. Have I lost all of my cool? Have I forgotten all of my tools? Did I just become an instant asshole?
"Yep." Was he answering my inside or outside voice?
In front of [bar] I reach up on my toes, lower my eyes to look at his lips, I'm holding my breath and he starts to lean in to me. It took forever to finally feel his kiss...and...believe when I tell you, it was the softest, most sensuous kiss I have EVER had. Now...this princess has kissed a lot of frogs in her day. So, I really feel like I have a baseline to go off of. I come back down from my tiptoes and exhale. What the fuck just happened? Before I can answer my own question, I pop back up and kiss him again. This time it's so much more. His hands press into my back. My hands are in his hair with my fingers threaded in his black curls and I'm pulling him into me. His hand touches my cheek and his thumb grazes over my lips as he kisses me slowly. Deliberately. I love the taste in his mouth. I'm inhaling him as we are full-on making out in the parking lot next to the door and I don't have a fuck to give. I am so oblivious to everything except what LL is doing with his tongue, you could've set my hair on fire and I would've said, "What's that smell? Is something burning?"

 I'm taking a pause here for a minute

     I should've stayed. I should've gone back in and taken up more time with him. I had no reason to leave, but I did. I went home...awestruck and still saying to myself, Did that really just happen? LL did that? Why am I surprised? He was a total ninja about his singing. I had no idea how personable and funny he was. He has now proved that he is very sensual and extremely sexy...wait...doesn't do him justice...oozes.  He oozes sex and sensuality. (I know you're reading this now, LL, and want to shake your head, but it's true.) So of course he'd be the best kiss I've ever had?
  
     Should I tell you now about the next time we kissed? Or the first time we were alone? It's going to have to be in another post because each time I'm with him it's better than the last. But I will tell you this...that man does things to my mind, my body, my soul, that I can only guess what it would be like if I were in heaven. Where could this possibly be going? Who knows. LL is my lesson on patience and mindfulness. To stay in the moment with him right now. Not thinking about when I'll get to see him again, but to just be. This morning I told him that. I ran my hands along his body and smelled his skin. My head was asking when would the next time be? But instead I focused on now. I have conjured a great man, my Darlings. I have sucked in the perfect soul healer and I'm a genius, lol. As always, I am ever grateful for the space that you hold for me to write about happy things, sad things...whatever. Just thank you.

 Hmmmm, the songs I would pick for this post...
Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard
Kiss by Prince

I am grateful for:
summer rain
conjuring the perfect moment
songs that make me forget where I am
karaoke
slow kisses
perfect timing

I can't see nothing. Gotta open my eye. Cut me, Mick.

I'm not a drinker...but if I was...

This is a post I had completely forgot I had written and just found in a random folder the other day. I had to call a friend to ask her if how I had written about it was how it happened in her memory. I hope the ridiculousness of my early dating makes you laugh, or at least have gratitude that your dating life isn't so bad after all.  

Soon after I was separated and continuing with my divorce and I stepped into the pool of internet dating, I started out on a Jewish dating site. I figured my cousin met her husband on J-Date, my neighbor told me her sister met her husband there, why not. Even though finding a husband was the last thing on my mind. I really have no idea if I'll ever get married again. Not because I'm against the idea. More of a lack of fish left in the sea. Who knows, maybe someday. I am new to the in's and out's of the rules and I've been talking to this guy online. We've talked on the phone and he seems pretty cool, why not just have him come over? I've since learned that you don't do that. You meet the guy pretty quickly to make sure they're not 75 when they say their 40 and you meet them in a public place so they don't club you over the head and stick you in their trunk. I know better now...kinda. I'll call the guy J. He is an airline mechanic, has a car, and, fuck, I dunno, has a pulse so that makes him viable.  I hadn't been on a date in forever.  I didn't know what the hell I was doing. J and I decide to meet in person. I invite him to come over. When I open the door, there he stood in all his  5'6"ish glory. He is wearing what was once a dark concert t-shirt with cut sleeves, jeans, and cowboy boots...with no socks...in July.  I know this because when I asked if he wanted to take off his shoes, he told me it wouldn't be a good idea since he wasn't wearing socks and his feet were sweating. Fantastic. He has two bags with him and in each bag, four ginormous bottles of the cheapest white Zinfandel you can buy. What freakin' party is this guy going to? I had already mentioned to him I am not a big drinker.  Anybody who knows anything about me knows I don't really drink. Just not my thing.  I'm whacked out enough without it.  Apparently this guy wants to put me in an AA meeting smoking cigarettes and drinking copious amounts of coffee. I invite J in and we sit down on my couch. This is going back a couple of years when I'd first moved into my apartment.  I pretty much walked away from my marriage with my shoes, my clothes, a lamp my mother gave me, and my favorite pot that I cook with. (reminds me of the movie, "The Jerk," where he leaves with a remote, a paddleball, a chair...etc) So when J asks me for a corkscrew and I don't even drink...I had nothing. 

"I'm so sorry. I don't have anything to open these ginormous, cheap bottles with."

"That's ok," he says while pulling out a pocket knife, snapping it open with one swift downward movement,  then cuts into the bottles.  That's right.  I said bottles. He opens two of the four and starts pouring the glasses like he's filling a Goddammed swimming pool. J hands me my glass and does the obligatory CHEERS. Ah, yes. It tastes like lighter fluid to me, but I appreciate the effort.  

We have small talk and I notice while he's talking to me, he keeps putting his hand over his mouth.  First, let me see if I can describe him to you.  He isn't your typical Jew.  I mean, yes, he's kinda short and stocky, but he had been in the military many years before so he was still wearing it high and tight. And not many Jewish (American) men go into the military or are mechanics. I don't say that to offend, they just don't.  Israeli men, on the other hand...they have a mandatory time in the army of three years. I am thinking of one Israeli in particular who was in the Mossad (Special Forces) and also played pro basketball. I should really blog about him.  He was (is) gorgeous and manly. Not like the Deer Hunter sitting on my couch in this story. 

Ok, where was I? Yes, so J puts his hand over his mouth when he's talking to me. Finally I ask him what gives? 

"I'm embarrassed to tell you." 

More embarrassed then not wearing socks with your boots on a hot, hot day?

J starts to tell me the story of a party he'd had at his house the night before. 

"Everybody was really fucked up and there was a girl there who, when she drinks, tries to fight everybody." 

Lovely. Please, tell me more.

He continues with the story, but every time he gets to a part in his riveting tale where something he's describing is physical, he stands up and goes over by the sliding glass doors. "...and so then I tell everybody they have to get out, right?..." he stands up and puts his hands up like he's waiting to catch a football. "...but this girl, she doesn't want to leave and my friend grabs her to carry her out.  Right before he gets her out of the door, she turns around and punches me right in the face.*POW* And that's how my tooth got chipped." He comes and sits back on the couch. 

Do people just not look at my face when they are talking. Because I can't imagine it looking anything short of horrified while he's talking.

"So basically you got your ass kicked by a girl last night?" I say half jokingly, half not.

"Heh heh, I guess so. Hey, drink up." He hands me my glass of gasoline.

He's already halfway through his bottle. I should've just given him one of those hats with the cup holders on each side and the straws that go to your mouth. Jesus. More small talk.  Blah blah blah him him him blah blah blah tattoos.

"How many tattoos you got?" He asks

"I think nine? What about you."  

Oh boy.  Big mistake for asking this seemingly harmless question. Oh my God, I hope I can describe this and give you the feelings that were rushing through my body. Here goes. He has a tattoo up on his left shoulder-chest area that he could've easily accessed through the neck of his faded black t-shirt. But instead, very slowly he stares intensely into my eyes, takes his right hand and skims over his head of no hair, while simultaneously leaning back on the couch, pulling up his shirt with his left hand exposing his hairy Teletubby belly and man-boobs, showing me some faded shape of an amoeba that is also ensconced in chest hair. I could swear I heard some electric guitar music and a drum machine in the background. All that was missing was a wind machine and a sax solo. Bless his heart, I don't even know how to fix this grammatically or  know if the punctuation is right.  (taking a moment) Please, don't get me wrong. I have no problems if a man has a little extra cushion on him. I'm fluffy, myself. But this was just fifty shades of fucked up. *sigh*  

After this display of sheer animal magnetism happened, I decided it was time to call it a night. I thanked J for coming over. He took one of the two unopened bottles of wine and announces, "I'll leave the other one for you." 

Oh, no, really, you are too kind. If I don't drink it, I can use it to remove the nail polish I spilled on the table. With that, J left, and I took a mental Silkwood shower to scrub that image off of my brain.

Months later I have my best friend, K, and a couple other friends to my apartment for one of our Wine and Cheese grown-up parties.  We would get together, have beautiful cheeses, meats, crackers, and drinks and just all hang out together. It was cheaper and safer. 

"I'll just have beer," Kir says. 

"Do you have any wine?" asks my friend, L.

"I have this one," I hold up a red, "and I have this bottle of Zin.  It's not the best, but I'll never drink it." I pull out the COSTCO sized bottle that was from my meeting with J. 

We are all sitting around the table in my kitchen. We laugh and tell stories. L, who is single like I am, starts to tell us about a new guy she's seeing.

"...and he's really nice...lives in (city)...he's an airline mechanic..." 

And as she is telling us about him, I am starting to sink into my chair.  Kir notices what my reaction is and looks at me like, "What the fuck is wrong with you? You look sick" L keeps talking about this new guy and how he seemed nice. Finally when I just can't deny what I'm hearing anymore, I lock eyes with Kir with a very serious look, I lean back in my chair, run my hand over my head and pull my shirt up...

                                                        *GASP*

"NO FUCKING WAY!" she yells clapping her hands together and starts laughing. I am mortified. She knows the entire story of the porno-shirt-lift move, the multiple bottles of bad wine, the cowboy boots, the knife...sweet Jesus, she knows everything. I looked at her again, motioning to the bottle of wine.  
"That's the same bottle??" she asks.
I nod my head yes. 

L and I went out with the same guy but had VERY different experiences with him. Oh, boy this is awkward. I tell L what happened when I met J. I am crying from laughing. I don't know whether to feel bad about it or not. L sends J a text saying that she's at my apartment drinking the shitty wine he brought.
 His text back...

"You guys wanna have a threesome?" 

 Yup. That kinda sums it up. I wrote the majority of this today in my Starbucks and regular I know sat with me for a while and another woman that he knew sat with us also. We talked about dating, how my screening process has changed, where to meet and where not to meet men. I love the man's perspective. I love men, truly, so don't get the wrong idea that I think they're all idiots. The men who are in my life at this moment are wonderful, loving men that give me what I need right now.

I wrote this in January and just kinda forgot about it. I'm reading the last paragraph and it still rings true. I do love to see the world through the, "Man's glasses," and I certainly don't think men are idiots. The men who are in my life now really are wonderful, giving, loving, and strong men who can handle me at my best and my worst...and the one's who can't usually fall by the wayside soon enough. Thank you for giving me the space to get this story out of my brain to make room for more ridiculousness. I really do enjoy the madness...and wow, if I could publish the madness that is happening now...I'm even blushing. So my dance-break songs for this post...
Stain by Mz Ann Thropik
Y I Do by Zebra Katz
Pussy Control by Prince
Eye Of The Tiger by Survivor

The idea is to put on one of these songs and to dance your hardest for 30-60 seconds to let out whatever is in your body.

I Am Grateful for:
Bad wine and good friends
Lovely Perfume
the strong men and women I love

People would come up to me and say, "Hey, do people ever come up to you?"

     "I just don't think I can do this. I have no idea what I'm doing." I sobbed on the phone standing in the kitchen of my empty apartment. "The kids are gone. They hate it here."
"I'm coming over after work, ok? You just need someone to hold you for a good ten minutes," he laughs a small laugh.
"Ok, but you watch your hands," half crying half laughing.
I open my door at 5:30 and he's standing there, so tall, so handsome, gentle smile. He steps in, the door closes, and he wraps his arms around me. J is so tall, he's lost more weight. I feel like I could wrap my arms around him twice. He puts his chin on the top of my head and I feel him breathing on my hair. His hands press into my back as he runs one up to my neck and the other down to my waist.
"Don't even think about it," I laugh.
"I'm not. Well, I'm thinking about it."
He held me while I cried and talked about how scared I was. It seemed like forever, but he never stopped holding me until I was so snotty he had to let go. Pretty picture, I'm sure. He held my face in his hands and said, "You hungry?"
Sniffling and wiping my puffy eyes, "When am I NOT hungry?"
"Boston Market?"
"You drive."
"Deal." He kisses my face and we leave.

     If you've never had a friend that offers you Boston Market when you are having a major meltdown, you should get one right away. But that was J's character. He was the guy who could say the driest joke to you and you'd laugh while he stood there straight as an arrow as if to say, "What? It's a legitimate question. Have you ever..." and the craziest shit would come out. I once had powdered water but didn't know what to add to it...Morning text messages, "Hey Beautiful, have a good day," would light up my phone...and I have a feeling many other girls' phones as well. But it didn't matter. He made you feel like it was for you. Our timing always seemed off, though. I was dating someone, he would be single. He'd be dating someone, I'd be single. And always in the back of my mind was my fear of his disease. J was diabetic. The kind that made him check his insulin constantly. He'd tire easily. Always needed a bathroom close by. He'd never take his shoes off except to go to bed, and even then, he never took off his socks. I don't think I ever saw his feet. I don't know if he even had feet. He had to have the corners of his eyes sewn because the diabetes affected his eyes and he gave himself injections at every meal. But even through all that, he still was positive and happy...and dirty, lol. We would all go sing  in Waukegan at a bar where our friend did the karaoke. J could sing and dance. The kind where you'd look at the women sitting at the tables and they'd just be staring because he was so adorable and sexy. Every year, God, I feel like this is so disjointed as I'm telling you all of this, but the memories of this time in my life are coming back in weird order. Ok, so every year J would celebrate his birthday with two other men that were dear friends. One of whom I've written an entry on my blog about. (J's roomate) More disjointedness...J and I never ended up in a relationship other than what we were for two reasons. 1. The timing was always off with us and 2. I had a horrible fear of loving him and losing him if the diabetes ever got that bad. You have no idea how much of a bitch I feel for even letting that out. I've only said that out loud to two people. (exhale) Ok, the birthday party celebrations...so everybody knew that I taught pole and lap dance as my job. For J's birthday, my gf, Kir, sang his favorite song, "Still Loving You," by Scorpions, and I pulled his chair out in the middle of the dance floor and made his face turn 5 shades of red. It was epic, lol.  There are still pictures that pop up from time to time that people will mention. Wow, his girlfriend hated me that night...good, she didn't deserve him. I wouldn't change that night at all. More out of order memories popping up.
My apartment was the meetup place for all of us. I'd have wine and cheese parties and we'd all sit around laughing and playing games. I had my pole in the living room and we'd all fuck around on it. I don't know how I would've gotten through that period in my life if it wasn't for my friends. Kir often reminds me of the time she was in my bedroom on the phone with her man and I come stumbling in trying to find a pair of my 6-inch shoes so I could show off the latest ass-over-my-head move. Everyone would sleep over. J would come over and we'd watch movies on the air mattress in my living room. I find it hilarious that Boston Market was our place. I'd meet him up by Great America to go to the one there. I'd sit in his car while he'd show me the DVD player in the dash, or the speaker-thingys that were the size of a couch in the trunk. All the while, he never acted like anything bothered him. He was my rock.
Segues have never been my thing, so stay with me for a second. A few years back there was a, "thing," going around the Sister Goddess community that was called Hosting An Angel or something like that. It was a very calming and peaceful gesture with candle lighting and invoking positivity into the space. It lasts for a few days and then you pass it on to others so they can bring it into their homes. I bring it up because it was my turn to host while what I'm about to tell you was happening.
J and I would text and hang out. I would bring him soup and crackers when he was sick. He would come and hug me with his infamous hugs when I would ask. Time passed. One day I got a call from W, his roommate that I dated and wrote about.
"Robyn, I have to tell you something. J is in the hospital. He's in a coma. He's going to be ok, but it's bad."
"What? Where? What happened."
W tells me. I may need to stop for a bit.
"His alarm was going off and he wouldn't get up. I figured I'd let him sleep. My girlfriend needed to get her car out so I took his keys and moved the car. He seemed really tired, so I let him sleep for about 45 more minutes. When I went back into his room to wake him up, he was face down on the floor. I turned him over and he was blue. We called 911 and I did CPR on him until the paramedics took over."
I'm holding the phone. I hear the words. I hear W's cadence of when he talks and it's very distinct.
"Ok, but he's ok? He's going to wake up?"
"He's going to be ok. They were able to bring him back. He's at [hospital]."
I reach out to our circle of friends and tell them I'll go to the hospital as our, "representative," because there's so many of us and they're not going to want all of us at the hospital. As it turns out, I am very good under these types of situations. I'm not a crier. I don't flip out. I watch. I ask.
I make my way to the hospital. I tell the desk who I am there to see and they tell me I have to wait because the nurses were cleaning him up. Cleaning him up? Ok. I'll wait. I waited 45 minutes to where they'll finally let me in. His family, I'd been told, had gone to the cafeteria.  I walk in to see J connected to tubes on top of tubes, beeping machines, it was shocking.
"Yeah, sorry it took so long, but we had to change the entire bed," the male nurse says.
I know exactly what happened. W lied to me. W had no idea I have any type of medical background. What W failed to mention was that J was brain dead. J's body had completely evacuated just as I walked on his floor and that's what they were cleaning up. His body was there, but he was gone. J's dad and girlfriend came back into the room and I am dumbfounded. I'm so mad because I went there thinking he was going to be ok. I tell the family I was there on behalf of all of us. I grab his hand. I stroke his hair. I tell him stories in his ear about how I'm going to show everyone all the inappropriate pictures he's ever sent me. "Open your eyes or I'm going to tell everyone the tuna can story." But I know he's not going to open his eyes. I look at him laying in the bed. The sheets are clean and smell like hospital. His goatee is too long and I tell him I don't like it. I whisper, "I totally thought this was your dad's girlfriend and was about to tell him well done, Sir, getting this young thing." I kiss his hand and in my mind I tell him goodbye, I love you. The family tells me they're going to turn the machines off, but that J's mother is not accepting that her boy is gone yet so they are waiting. I get back in my car and the first thing I do is call W.
"What the fuck, W! How could you say he's going to be ok? He's not! He's gone!" I'm screaming at him.
"Robyn, I didn't know how to tell you. I knew he was gone when they took him in the ambulance. I'm sorry. I just couldn't take that hope away from you." I walk in the door, look at the white candles and flowers I have for the angel exercise, and I drop to my knees and wail. In my head all I can ask is, "Where is he? Where is his soul if his body is still here breathing?" I stayed there for a long time. I sat with my back against the door and sobbed, my entire body heaving.

In the movies, they turn off the machines, the beeping slows down on the machine...
This is where I had to stop for a minute. I'm literally screaming at my computer because I've never written about this. My throat feels like I have a tennis ball in it. FUCK! Gimme a second. 

...the beeping slows down on the machine until there is a steady tone. They turn of the noise and it's done. Not so in real life.  They turn off the machines and it becomes a waiting game. The organs start to shut down and it could be days before it's finally over. My friends and I keep in constant contact with each other so if there's any news, we all know immediately. It's been a few days and I am on my way into the city to teach at S-Factor. I hit the 90/94 split when the text message comes from my friend, AJ.
"Jason passed away two hours ago." He goes on to say something about services being planned and I am in the car silently, mindlessly driving. I am looking for an exit to turn around so I can just go home when a call comes in. I never answer if it's a number I don't know, but I answered this one. It's one of my Sisters who is visiting from CA. She was having major medical issues and waiting for some news that would change her life forever. "When I found out you were teaching the class, I knew the Universe was giving me a sign." I can't remember if that was exactly it, but along those lines. I answered back in tears, "V, I just learned my friend has passed and you are saving my life just as much as I am yours. I'll see you in a few minutes." I walk into my studio and Jo looks at me and says, "What's wrong?" I burst into tears. She takes me by the hands and leads me into a back area where we sit on the floor and I tell her what's happened. Leave it to my Jo, she grabs a glass of champagne from the event that we were having in an hour, and asks me if I want a Valium. It's the only thing that made me laugh. Can you imagine me teaching a class on booze and Valium? I taught my classes like a village idiot anyway. I go into class and tell all my students what happened and that I would try to hold it together as best as I could. I don't think there was a dry eye in class that day.
I could go into what J's funeral was like.  All the people that came. The crying/laughing while everyone told  hilarious stories about what a perv he was. How he loved Halloween and could do the sickest makeup. We all went and ate afterwards and shared our own stories that wouldn't have been proper to do in front of his parents, lol. I'll tell you one. "Robyn, my dick is at least six inches...around...I mean, it's like a tuna can. It's only 21/2 inches long, but...(and then he'd hold his hands up making a circle)..." I'd get random pictures of tuna cans while he'd be shopping in a store. Or I'd send him a pic and say, "Thinking of you."

J's birthday is coming up in about two weeks. He'd have been 42, I think. He's been gone 4ish years and I couldn't write a word about him until today. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this entry yet. It's not funny, nor witty. There's no real point to it except to tell you about an opportunity I missed on loving a man who had so much love to give. Someone who could hold you and make you feel like nothing could harm you as long as his hands were there. And that almost anything feels better after some chicken and cornbread. If I do publish this and you've made it this far, thank you. Thank you for holding this space for me to tell you about how I saw him, my beautiful friend. How I loved him. How he loved me.


Song picks:
What If I Said by Anita Cochran and Steve Wariner
Lightening Crashes by Live
Poison by Bell Biv DeVoe