caught - Dog & Cat embrace


use paper clips & safety pins

duct tape leaves residue

care less
grand life - big banana
I've - had a beer.
For about an hou there, all my concentration was focused on not falling out of the chair at the bar.


Calender of Mr. C -- because we've been moving at eihter warp speed or slow-mo and I can't quite get a grasp on it

Sept 14 - first meet, talk a little
Dec 7 - meet again, talk all night
Dec 9 - become FB friends
Dec 12 to 31- we msg back and forth about feminism & video games & family & life
Jan 1 - a mutual friend invites him over for a 'cuddle party' but we're too awkward to actually cuddle
Jan 2 to 5 - I invite him to join me at the dog beach when he's free; we plan to get together on the 7th; he asks me for my phone number
Jan 7 - I drive to him, we go to the dog beach
Jan 8 - I ask him if he's free on the 10th to go to the marina
Jan 10 - a friend spontaneously joins us at the marina as the 3rd wheel; Mr. C asks if I'm free to get together the following week
Jan 14 - we plan to meet up on the 16th at the Last Bookstore for a poetry reading
Jan 16 - we meet downtown, talk all night and miss the reading
Jan 19 - a group picnic was canceled, so a few of us had a bonfire at the beach; I sit between his legs in front of the fire
Jan 21 - we plan to meet at a park on the 24th
Jan 24 - I pick him up from my local bus station, the park is lovely and offered many places to sit close to one another; then we get donuts; then I drive with him to meet a friend for Korean bbq; then go to a cafe where he rubs my back a little
Jan 26 - we plan to meet on Jan 28 at the library and read to one another
Jan 28 - we meet downtown, he smoothly puts his arm around me at the library, and after it closes, we talk and cuddle all around California Plaza
Jan 31 - we meet at a museum, I think he's going to kiss me but he bonks my boob with a poster, we hold hands and huddle against the wind
Feb 2 & 3 - we talk about sex and have almost phone sex
Feb 6 - I invite him to join me in Santa Barbara
Feb 7 - I drive to him, we watch the sunset over downtown and have our first kiss on an old tree stump, we go to a museum, then I sleep over at a mutual friends
Feb 8 - I drive to him from our friend's, we go to a single's game day (we'd be invited to well before we started dating) with our mutual friend; then hang at her place where I hope to nap, and Mr. C blurts out "I love you... and I love the Chili Peppers" when he sees my old concert tshirt that's now pjs, and instead of getting to nap, Mr. C and my friend opt to cuddle with me in bed; after, Mr. C walks in on me changing to go to a karaoke birthday party; and we don't stay in the karaoke bar long and chat in the car
Feb 11 - I drive to him, we go to Santa Barbara and sleep next to one another perfectly fine on a sofa bed
Feb 12 - Lizard's Mouth is the location of our first French kiss and car make-out session
Feb 13 - more kissing around town, and that night we pleasure one another
Feb 14 - we have awkward sex in the morning, and he takes the bus home in the afternoon, he cries at us parting ways
Feb 16 - for real phone sex
Feb 17 - I drive to him, I stay at his place, more awkward sex
Feb 22 & 23 - he takes the bus to my place, we go bowling, and he hangs at my place and casually meets my mom, and stays over; in the morning, we have awkward sex, excellent oral; then I drive to his place for family dinner and I meet his dad and sister and one of her friends

accumulated complaints over three days
caught - Dog & Cat embrace
puppy has a broken toe
parking ticket -- street sweeping
two day's worth of data entries not saved due to a dropbox glitch
double-booked myself and missed opportunity to work
Grandma in hospital with something that translates to too much water ..? Sounds like edema, maybe. She'll still be in over the weekend.

caught - Dog & Cat embrace
Another night of awkward false starts and lost erections and uncertainty in the sack.
He felt as though the hiccups warranted my wanting to call it quits. To which I said that I didn't want to break up.
I kissed his neck and told him, "I want you in my life, in my heart, and in my bed. It's up to you to choose which you want to fulfill.”

His body is divine to sleep beside.
His hands are lovely and large and fearless.
His curls exquisite against my skin.
The way he pulls me into his embrace, oh so nice.
...and yowza, he was laying on the bed and I was straddling him and he sat up and deadlifted me and walked around the room and hot damn.
When he walked back to the bed and sat down with me still straddling him, and said he wants to work on his upper body strength, and I got a thrill a smiled and said we could do that against the wall.

Happy possibilities.

making a mess
caught - Dog & Cat embrace
”Hopefully I won't be sleeping with cum on my mouth.”
Gotta love the after phone sex pillow talk.
Girls have it easy with post-orgasm clean up. I guess that's one of the few godsends of being female.

Simultaneous Os over the phone. I wonder if that's rare or normal. I dunno, I've never had phone sex with anyone else.

Well, seems like a silly thing to try to insist Mr.C and I are just dating.
My friend Ali is married to a younger man and says ”if you care for one another, age doesn't matter.”
Another friend advised I not stand on ceremony. Another said to go for it and enjoy. Another thought I was stupid for even attempting to ignore my feelings.

He wants me to meet his dad and come to a family dinner on Sunday.
I'm nervous.
He said, ”my dad will be happy to see I'll be giving him grandchildren.”
”Oh really now? There's just enough time to pop one out this year.”
He meant his dad would be glad to see proof his son isn't gay.
I suggested leaving some porn on the coffee table.

caught - Dog & Cat embrace
Today I realized that Mr.C is the fifth gentleman lover I've had. Number five.
Maybe I should instead call Mr.C, 'Chanel'

I just realized it's been a decade since I first had sex. To the day, nearly. Arin and Valentines in college.

Mr.C's emotionally high maintenance. My friend said he seems fragile.
Anxious about not being good enough, about being inadequate, about not being loved. Nervous about traveling. Easily startled.

While he was here with me, he didn't say ”I love you” in those words, but he did say many times that I am loved.

He's loveable, and I care for him, and I think fondly of him, and I desire him.

He's not a good kisser, yet, but he takes direction relatively well... Well, sorta, between disheartened sighs and head drops.

I feel like I'm too critical.
”Less pucker”
”Less saliva”
”Less nail”
”More finger curl”
”More tongue”
”Your facial hair feels itchy”
But that's all between very intimate moments and kisses and happy laughs and kindnesses and sweet caresses.
He has begun to be willing to tell me what he likes and give a little direction.
On Valentine's day, 14/14, we got naked for the first time together. ”Gentle caresses up and down”
”Suck on my balls” which made me laugh, it was such a surprise and so brazen.

He texted me yesterday that he's feeling phantom cases and his torso longs for me.

I can relate to longing.

He cried when it was time to say goodbye at the bus stop. I didn't know what to do, or think. So I held him and said I'll see you next week.

love nest
caught - Dog & Cat embrace
Mr. C accompanied me to visit friends in Santa Barbara.

Bizarre that I would invite him, and that he'd go with me, and that we'd have that kind of closeness considering we'd barely even had a first kiss. ...though, I'd invited him before we even really got together and discussed dating, let alone kissed.
This week, however, we did it all. Frenching on a mountain top. Back seat necking. Fingering and oral sex. The whole enchilada. And very cliche of us, on Valentine's.
But our physical intimacy wasn't without hiccups. Despite being concerned about being premature, he actually had issues keeping it up. He was nervous about performance and completely freaking himself out.
He's got a lovely cock and I have no idea why he could possibly think he's not large enough; much bigger and he'd be too much to handle. He's already to much to swallow. Two hands plus room to maneuver. I can't even reach tip to base with a finger spread. And I want it all inside me, his big frame over me, working, thrusting, forcing me to open wide.

* * *
So very sleepy.
We stayed awake pleasing one another. Fits and starts sex.
My eye lids fall

once again on the phone
Sustainable a la www.microcosmpublishing
And this time it was essentially phone sex.

He talked.
I listened and held my breath and pictured him on his bed.
I stopped him when he said he was taking off his pants.

His voice.
And his choice of words, "kiss your neck and work my way down"
We are in trouble.

Goose bumps.
Shaky breath.
Soft moans.
And all while sitting at my desk, not touching myself, biting my palm, trying to keep still.

When he had enough of teasing me, I confessed to having let my hands wander when we were talking about very mundane things a few days prior, and that I held myself in check today.

We actually discussed logistics of how we could have sex. He balked when I said a hotel can easily be $100 a night. He mentioned he was concerned about waking my mom. I then said, "you know, your dad works during the day."

He told me he has a problem being premature, but he didn't use those words. I thought he meant pre-cum. He said he gets excited when cuddling and messes his underwear. I half-joked when I asked if it was like American Pie. I guess it is and I didn't quite believe him until he said he thought about doubling up his underwear for our date Friday.
That might be a problem.
He's super self-conscious about it, which might be a bigger issue.

almost phone sex
caught - Dog & Cat embrace
Jesus Fucking Christ
We haven't even had a first kiss and hot damn ...
Unlike the last time I felt so aroused talking to him on the phone, I resisted handling myself last night. I'm sure he didn't know I let my hands wander last time. We weren't even talking about anything salacious then.
The conversation last night, however, got a little more frisky than I thought we'd be comfortable discussing so quickly -- yes, despite my feeling comfortable enough to silently pleasure myself while he mostly talked a week ago. You see, I thought it was just me who was hot under the collar, that is, until I heard his voice soften and go dark and I could just picture him leaning in, awaiting my reply. That's what actually held me back from truly detailing how he made me feel when he slid his hands along my neck. We haven't had a first kiss, and haven't talked about many important things, and I didn't want to be fool-hearty.

He randomly mentioned that he went on a date with a woman married to one of his friends, and it was kinda at the request of his friend. I could never have imagined we had this in common. He was a little stumped when I told him, "me, too."
I explained that I had a few friends who were polyamorous, and a couple of the husbands thought I was cute, but only one was interested me as opposed to only interested in sex. The guy I dated, Keith, is married to Athena. They are very cool people. My other friends, too, are cool, though we've all lost touch over the years.
I could sense some tension over the phone and didn't realize I'd forgotten to say that polyamory wasn't my thing, and that I wasn't then nor now interested in pursuing that kind of relationship. He audibly sighed with relief.

We talked about Philip Seymour Hoffman, and his fabulous films. He agreed that he's awesome in Punch Drunk Love. I have yet to see Capote, and Mr. C says I should also see Doubt and Pirate Radio. I think a PSH theme would be perfect for a movie day.

Hallelujah, he's not a virgin.

I didn't even realize how concerned I was that he was until he said, "the last time I had sex," and a wave of relief washed over me.

I told him I thought he might be a virgin and was glad to hear he wasn't. He said he felt he may be re-virginized because it's been years. I smiled and said it's been years for me, too. He didn't quite believe me, but I reminded him that I've never had a one night stand and broke up with my last boyfriend a while ago.

He was 19 and at a college party (I surmise) when he had sex for the first time. It sounded like he met her that night and never really saw her again. I felt bad for him. I think I might have even said, "aw that sucks." And I meant it. Sex is so much better once the initial awkwardness and figuring out one another's bodies is sorted and preferences are known and can be delivered time and time again.
I did not tell him that my first time has remained one of the best sexual experiences I've ever had.
He said, "I know that's late."
"No, it's not. That's before I did. I was 22. And my boyfriend was a virgin, too. My previous boyfriend, who I was with for years, didn't want to. He told me later, after we broke up, that he was kicking himself for repeatedly turning me down."

I told him that I know a few virgins who are older than I. He said, "oh, asexual," which reminded me, "oh yeah, I forgot a couple people." I didn't list their names, but mentioned one was studying to be a pastor, a couple asexual, one who is hopelessly awkward, one guy who likes girls but calls himself a lone wolf, and one who was assaulted by a priest and sex causes freak outs. [On a side, I like to think of that friend as a virgin partly because s/he considers himself one, but from the things s/he's told me, s/he's probably technically not.] Mr. C said he thought of himself like a lone wolf for a couple years.
Unprompted, he asked if Mike, who he met once at the bonfire, was one of the people, and I couldn't deny it, though I tried to save face for Mike because I know it's something he's self-conscious about. I said he's dated a bit, a woman who was 22 years older than him, "she's in her fifties."
Mr. C "That's a mom!"
I had to laugh because that was exactly my thought when I first learned of their age difference. And I am reminded yet again of the nearly ten years between Mr. C and I.

We got on the topic of sex because we were sharing more concerns and worries and hopes and dreams.

He said one of his worries is that his friends and family and I am here, and there's a school in Rhode Island he's had his eye on, but he's worried the distance would put a strain on things, and is considering not going.
I couldn't help but smile. He's so sweet.
I told him that in a couple years, if we're still together, and he gets accepted, I'd go with him.

I told him I wouldn't know how to be with him in front of friends and it took me a minute to explain that he caresses send happy reverberations through my body, so for my own sanity, w might need to keep the touching to a minimum.

He said he worries he'll be physically inadequate, both in his general physique and in the sack. He says he's got a little muffin top. I tell him I share those concerns, not about him, but about myself. I am not healthy and I want to me. He said, "I can help you."

He's wonderful.

He said he's nervous about sex. When I asked what about it makes him nervous and he said the tightness and insertion and the sensations and I am not sure precisely what is causing anxiety, and I didn't press the issue further during the call, but I'm betting it's something we can sort out. I know I'd like to make him happy, and he's said repeatedly over this past month that making me happy is an aim of his. I told him his natural inclination and caresses while absent-minded have the effect as if he was given a how-to on me. And if that's any indication, he'll be stupendous.

Sustainable a la www.microcosmpublishing
Mr. C and I went to an art museum yesterday.

We were to meet at two. I was late for a couple reasons. Running errands took longer than expected because I had to go to more stores since I had the wrong place for an errand for my mom, and a different store I visited was sold out of menstrual cups (doggie ate mine) and I had to make another unexpected stop, then I got on the wrong freeway but didn't realize it for miles. I texted Mr. C each time I realized I'd be a half-hour delayed.

I waited at his door a minute after ringing his doorbell and was about to call his phone when he unlocked the door as he was putting on his t-shirt. He's a very last-minute kind of person. Easily distracted. He mentions his A.D.D. / A.D.H.D. with a fair amount of regularity.

Then he invited me in and said he needed to put on his shoes and asked if I wanted anything to drink. He's considerate that way. I declined, but did need to use the restroom. When I got out, he was in his room, and said I could come in if I wanted, and proceeded to say that his room was like a 12-year-old's, and perpetually messy, and something about his side and his sister's side of the room, and "this is my bed and my posters and my shrek figurine and my over-sized monitor I thankfully don't have to replace" and I was a bit confused why he was pointing out everything visible in a single room. I didn't ask but, in the hopes that the show and tell would end before the museum closed, did interject an apology for being late and that I hoped we had enough time at the museum.

We walked somewhat awkwardly. I could sense he didn't know what to do with himself and didn't want to impose on me. I didn't know what to think of the random stuff and laundry piles on the floor of his room or the taped posters on his wall or the basically twin XL bed that looked like a queen in the picture I mentioned a few entries ago. He'd previously described his bed as a custom one that his dad told him would last a long time, but it looked like a basic dorm bed. I shook off the random questions that could be a simple matter of semantics or mis-information given to an uncertain teen, and focused on the more important issues. I asked if his space would forever be messy. He seemed to think about it and said that it's not how he wants it forever to be, and mentioned that he'd like couches or someplace to sit in his room other than his computer chair and bed. That led me to ask if he'd tried Craigslist and he didn't believe me that people post free stuff all the time.

I described my room. My wall color is a mix of green and brown that either looks like mud or old avocado. I have a dresser I painted silver that only has paint brushes, markers, frames, scrapbooking, and I can't recall what else in its drawers. Between the dressers, desk, bed, closet, door and windows, on what's left of my walls, I have tall mirrors, sail boat art (prints of a watercolor and an acrylic painting, and black and white photos) and landscape painting -- all save one canvas painting are framed.

He and I both settled in a nice rhythm of chatter. I peeled and ate an orange while we walked the few miles to the museum.
At a stoplight, I slid my fingers along his hand and he seemed to relax a touch. An ease of breath.

I hadn't stopped for lunch earlier and I was too hungry to wander through the museum, so we stopped at a quaint and surprisingly romantic Callender's. We had the whole downstairs section to ourselves. I chose to sit across from him in a surprisingly large booth, but immediately wished I'd gone with the other option, he felt too far away. The waiter was there to take our drink order, so I felt less inclined to play musical chairs. I had sticky orange residue on my hands anyway, so knew I could excuse myself to the restroom and, upon my return, request a new seating arrangement. When I told him I wanted to sit next to him, he scooted over and pat the seat. He wanted me to lean against him, but needed to scoot over more to support himself against the wall. I could stretch my legs completely on the seat. His finger tips played along my forearm. I nearly forgot we were in a restaurant when the waiter came with our food.

At the museum, I'd hoped to see the light installations on view, but it was a special ticket event. Well, actually, I wanted him to kiss me amidst the fields of colored light. Maybe up against a neon wall or in the sea spaces. Our bodies awash in colors, our eyes flooded in alternative hues.

Instead, we strolled along a massive and undulating ribbon of steel. In one of the curls, I'd leaned against the metal and we chatted a bit. Then he pressed his hands on either side of me and leaned in. It was exactly what I wanted but I was looking at the floor and didn't see him coming, and him that close like that, caught my breath, heart aflutter, instant heat. Then a moment later, just as I started to lift my head and reach for him, he apologized profusely and backed off and started saying that it would look like I was being attacked and security guards would come, and I both appreciated and cursed his neurotic courteousness, and wish I could have gotten a word in edgewise to let him know how much I liked it, but I couldn't quite speak coherently yet, and besides, he wasn't listening to me.

We both leaned against the wall and had some more random conversation. I think I said I liked the rust. [ ...? I'm shaking my head at myself as I'm recalling the nonsense filler.] I was about to encourage him to get a little closer, when, "Bonk."
That's what he uttered when he tapped the end of a rolled up poster against my left breast mere minutes after backing off that incredibly sexy lean-in.
I slugged his torso to push him back out of arm's reach, "I can't believe you just did that."
Mr. C proceeded to say many things like "Ow. I'm sorry. I can't believe I just did that. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." and so on.
I started walking out of the art and told him he wasn't allowed to touch me for a while, and when he started walking beside me, I obviously stepped away to create distance. Though I was indeed startled by the odd, juvenile, act, and wasn't appreciative of it, I was intentionally being over-dramatic because it was one of many in the immature vein that I'd been mostly ignoring.
He kept saying that he didn't know why he did that. I suspected that it was probably the combination of hitting stuff that sticks out and he actually wanted to get personal, but didn't say anything about it. Instead we went to the next art piece and talked about it a little.
When he apologized again, I told him he really screwed up because I thought the lean-in was hot and hoped he do it again, and in that 'bonk' moment, I'd wanted to kiss him. And that really seemed to bum him out, but I think he didn't quite catch that I hoped he'd get close and hot again, and instead chose to focus on the blunders.
I could see that he was really kicking himself, and asked "Want a do-over?"

We walked back to the curved walls and eventually he does lean in, but this time he does wall push-ups over me and I laugh and half think of the up-down of sex. And the earlier moment cannot be recaptured, but I was glad we could discuss it and be comfortable. He puts his arm around me as we check out the other exhibits until they close.

He wanted to sit on a bench and cuddle and talk. He was very insistent upon that. The wind chill stole away any warmth I had, and every bench was in the open, and we leapfrogged around the park and museum grounds, on the little planter wall, on the steps, by the entrance, in a tree, and I kept requesting we try to find someplace more sheltered, but either every decent spot was taken up by other people trying to stay warm for the night, or it was dark and "I want to see you."

Finally my protests are heeded and he says we can go to a café and suddenly cocoa sounded like the most magnificent thing ever. So we walked around the museum grounds toward the street and found ourselves in a grove of lampposts.
He's bored.
Seen it a million times. He lives around here.
I tell him I want to linger.
The wind blows.
He brushes the hair out of my eyes and let his fingers trail along my face. I rubbed my cheek in his palm.
His hands, both of them, slid along my neck, brushes of exquisitely wonderful sensations. My lids flutter closed. My lips part, I want him, I struggle to open my eyes, he's not paying attention, looking off. I sense he's someplace else in his mind. I stop trying to compose myself and give in to the sweet, soft, delicate caresses along my jawline and cheeks. His hands must be large. They don't look it. But there's no other way he could simultaneously cradle my neck, creep his fingers in my hair, and brush my cheeks like that if his hands were any smaller. So much of him. So much man. Such a delicate touch. Electric. I forget to breathe.
He could have taken me right then and there in the field of lampposts, such desire, I was so wet.

Even now, the memory is white hot. My mouth waters. My breasts tingle. I shift in my seat.
I didn't think I could desire him ay more.
If this is him absent-minded...
Holy fuckoly I'm already putty in his hands, I can't fathom the power he'd wield when we're alone and trying to be more intimate.

We wind up at a restaurant and I ask where he wants me -- in his arms, of course. He tries to get me to be fully back to him, but the angle is weird to lay back since I'm not between his legs and my ass doesn't readily bend over someone's whole thigh. After pulling me back a couple times and me telling him whatever he's doing isn't working, I finally turn to point out that his knees are basically where by butt needs to be if he wants me to lean against him. We both sit up more and put our legs more under the table and were finally comfortable, except when he shifts and his pocket contents dig into my side. I stare at the menu but get distracted as his hands play along my arm. I stare at the same page for many minutes but never read a word.

When we're saying our goodbyes, he asks if I will join his family for Sunday dinner. He says he has this idea of bringing home a woman for the first time. I tell him I think it would be lovely but it may be a little too soon since we haven't even answered some questions ourselves. He wonders, "like what?" and I say, "I'd go as what?" He says "as my girlfriend..?" and I say we kinda need to date first and maybe have a first kiss, and a few other important moments of connection pop into my mind but I don't list them aloud.
We cuddle and hug a while and don't want to say goodbye just yet and try to stave off the night air, and I lightly kiss his neck goodbye before getting into my car.

Tonight, we've texted a little. He asked if I wanted him to call me once he got home from hanging with his chums.
I did, but thought I'd be long asleep -- turns out I was wrong. In typing this up, I can almost feel his hands on and around me.
And these waves of desire aren't merely from being hormonal.

"I can't get to sleep. I keep thinking about your hands cupping my face and your fingers brushing along my jaw line. Exquisite sensations"
Mr. C "You make it sound like a delicacy"
"It is for me. A breath catching one"
Mr. C "Lovely to know it's something you enjoy"
"It's so very deliciously remarkably enjoyable that I now feel guilty because I don't think I even remotely reciprocated that level of marvelousness"
Mr. C "Wow I really don't know what to say that can top that, you're so very descriptive about it"
"...ah, so then I am correct in the one-sidedness"
Mr. C "For now"
And my jaw nearly dropped. Holy fuck. I ... So smooth. And, fuck me, I can't fathom ...if this is how I feel now, with him so nonchalant... so unfazed while I am so aroused...
"Holy fuck I'm in deep trouble with you"
Mr. C "Why?"
"One sided for now... I find myself nearly putty already"
He misinterprets my use of trouble.
"Ha ha, no, I meant because it feels so nice, I'm in trouble, and doubly so because I like to give as good as I get and... you can make me forget to breathe"
Mr. C "I entice you so much, don't I?"
"Far more than I could ever say without blushing"
Mr. C "Never knew I'd ever have such an effect on a person"
"That you can affect me so, and all not intentionally, is how I know I'd be well and truly sunk once you do try."
And his next reply makes me wonder if he understood what I meant by putty and forgetting to breathe, "Just wanting to be mindful and respecting of you is all"
"And my skin is happy to receive your mindfulness and respect"
Mr. C "Happy to know it does :) "

I suspect the decision had been made long ago
broadcast - retro Chick
He's to young / I'm to old
Jimmy Crack Corn
and I don't care

I want him
I want his hands on me
I want to fall asleep wrapped in his warmth
I want to buy him turtlenecks because he's never had one
I may even want to have his babies -- it's too early to tell -- or so that's what I've been telling myself.

He says he's trying to not let his fears run/ruin his life.
I'm trying to follow suit.

Let the kisses fall where they may.

It'll be interesting trying to date a co-ed.
Tomorrow, I'm hoping we'll make it to a museum, but he works the night shift at a clothing store, restocking and folding. He says he doesn't fold his own at home. Only has a clean pile and dirty pile of clothes. He didn't want me to see his room the couple of times I've been inside to use his Mr. C restroom before going elsewhere.

He typically sleeps from 3am to 11am. He may not have enough energy to go to the museum.

He's an avid gamer. Watches video of others playing. Wants to go to the annual competition in August. He regularly mentions games on FB and wants to be a character designer for animated series and movies and games.
I don't know what to make of all that except to think it's not necessarily the most widely lucrative career path.

He had an anime-ish, almost hentai-ish Poison Ivy as his phone's welcome screen. I think by mentioning it makes me uncomfortable, he swapped out for another pic.
He said he roomed with his sister til she moved out a few years ago when she was 23 and he 18. I couldn't imagine sharing a room with my brother all those years.
He revealed she could be kinda violent toward him.
He doesn't frequently feel safe.

we said all the things
archaic "to be beautiful" Ponds ad 1907
Mr. C and I met up downtown again.
This time we went to the library. We read a few snippets to one another, but mostly strolled along the aisles and galleries and rotundas and went up and down the escalators and looked at the pretty pictures in over-sized art books and atlases and travel books.
When we were browsing a too-small to easily share book, he very smoothly wrapped his arm around me to hold the book open for us both.
And that was only the start.
My heart skipped a beat when his fingers caressed my shoulder in tender circles. In the amphitheater of the plaza atop Angel's Flight, he sat between my legs with my left over and between his legs and my right cradling his back, and one of his hands warmed the small of my back while the other played with the hollow of my knee.
I stood back to him and I shivered with desire when his hands slid in mine and he brushed his stubbly cheek along my neck.

Between the pretzeling and cuddling, we spoke frankly about our concerns and romantic interest. I told him that it's a possibility that by the time he's ready to have kids, I may not be able to have any. He said he's worried he'll be inadequate. They're not little issues.
He mentioned wanting to 'step up his game' by getting better threads. It's not a bad intention. I replied that I too feel inspired to better myself. I am embarrassed by my gut and arm flab and back rolls and chubby fingers. He says I'm sexy, but I know how low my fupa falls.

I didn't kiss him.
Didn't seem right to cross that line.
Though he did say he was a bad kisser. "Not a good advertisement," I replied.
I told him I was a great one. I almost feel bad about saying that.

awaiting his call
trek - "The Journey" by Tilly Willis
He texts me late at night.
Past the midnight hour.
Normally, I sleep.
But not tonight.
I am up recounting our encounters.
I tell him if he wants to talk, I'm awake.
He will call in a few

* * *

Yesterday (Jan 24), we went to Whittier Narrows for the afternoon. He'd suggested going to a park west of his place, but after checking out the address in satellite pics, I thought a larger park would offer more to see and do.
I was glad I did.
He bused to a local station and I picked him up and we wandered the park, avoiding the prolific geese and duck poo the best we could.
He'd shaved his beard for an interview the day before. I liked that I could see his pouty lips. All the times I'd seen him before, his mustache covered his top lip. Walrus style.

We lounged on a concrete dinosaur slide. We had enough room to sit, but not enough for elbow room and couldn't help but touch and feel the warmth of the person next to us. He slid his finger along my scar. I resisted the urge to curl around him.
I hadn't look him full in the face at all that afternoon, eyes on the road, eyes on the path to avoid gopher holes and poo and puddles, eyes on the dogs and ducks, so on the drive to the donut place, after the sun had set and wasn't wearing his glasses, he looked at me as I drove and his face is so lovely in three-quarters, I caught my breath, nearly every time I turned to look at him as we talked.

* * *

My phone rings.
Unusually, we mostly talked about ourselves.
He was out on a jog.
It was 2 am.
He asked why I asked for that second hug.
He told me he'd take me out to a restaurant.
I requested that he stop wondering or assuming he's done something inadequate.
I promised to take my own advice of not assuming people won't like what I want, and will let him and others tell me if I've made them uncomfortable or crossed a line or am too imposing.
I told him I'd intentionally only brought two folding chairs to the beach bonfire so I could sit between his legs.

* * *

At the park, we'd each received an invite to a comic book release party that the sender mistakenly believed was Friday night instead of the actual event date on Saturday. Neither of us really wanted to go, but we didn't have any better ideas and didn't want to part company.

First we had to sort out whether or not he'd be called in for the night shift and have to go back to the bus station or not, and since we wouldn't know til the night manager was in, and the party wouldn't start for another few hours anyway, we stopped at a donut place near the park. He enjoyed the way I pull apart croissants. He didn't need to go to work, so off we went to the bar hosting the event.

While I drove, he complimented my smile.

The bartender informed us the event was the following night. Neither one of us questioned our friend's certainty the party was that night, and none of us bothered to read the word 'tomorrow' on the event invite. On a very long otherwise empty bench, I sat beside him, thigh to thigh, and enjoyed a glass of cranberry while we tried to figure out what to do with the rest of the evening. Our friend suggested we meet at a restaurant nearby, so we went.

I hadn't prepared for the cool evening and resisted the perpetual urge to sneak inside his sweater. In the restaurant, I stopped myself from caressing his back. I busied myself by tending to the grill in the middle of the table.

Then our friend wanted to walk a while to settle her stomach and find a spot to get dessert. At the coffee shop, he rubbed my shoulder and neck. I tried my best to ignore him mock announcing, "I'm touching a girl."

I drove him home and he talked about the funk he was in last Summer. He turned his back on his friends who he thought weren't being supportive and were lampooning him too much. A catalyst of the depression (?) was a kerfuffle over a rescinded ride to a LAN party and perceived preferential treatment given to other friends. They all had equipment to carry, but he says only he was treated unfairly. So, he shunned them.

After talking a while in my car across the street from his place, I walked him to his door to say goodbye. Even though I stood on a step so as to not be so little, it was not a satisfying hug.
I sat in my car getting directions from my phone, and wanted a do-over.
I texted, "Wait, come back out. I want to give you another hug. A real one"
And it was good.
We walked toward one another, no awkward pause before embracing.
That magical internal click of yes. I love being in his arms like that. Not like any of our previous hugs. Not any of the shoulder lean, one arm up the other down, heads avoiding, basic pats on the back casual hey dude. I rested my head on his chest and got to feel his heart beat. I could tell he closed his eyes and simply held me, head resting on mine. I slid my hands gently along the small of his back.
I want more.

whimsical - cute Grandma
I've been meeting up with Mr. C at least once a week.
We've gone to the dog beach and the marina (as mentioned in a previous post).
Continuing from that post, he didn't reply.
The next evening (Jan 12), I texted that if he wanted to meet up, I could on Tuesday and Friday.
He replied at midnight the next day that he was free on Friday but only til 7.

Later that night, he posted a selfie from his computer's old webcam. He was sitting on his sheet-less mattress, leaning against his dresser, lounging in shorts and a sweatshirt, drink in hand resting nonchalantly on a widespread knee, mouse in the other hand on a binder on the bed, and I remember very much wanting to be in the space he made, knowing I would fit between his long limbs. Then I wondered if he had sheets, after which I noticed the sombrero above his head on top of the dresser.
A friend of his, Steve, commented, "if i EVER see you with your dick out on omegle, im encouraging that ass to go into porn with that nigga booty."
Mr. C, "Steve, this is why we're friends."
Another friend, Robert, replied a sad face.
Mr. C, "Play along, Robert."
Robert "leave abercrombie and join the porn industry"
Mr. C, "Hell, I'd leave A&F to shovel shit if I made a dollar an hour more to do it lmao"

Hours after the above exchange, after the sun rose for the day, I saw the pic. I wrote, "I can only hope that sombrero is large enough to keep you decent on those clothes-free days."
Mr. C, "They cover the needed areas."
Me, "like your face? :D "
Mr. C, "There goes my smile for the rest of the month."
"Aw, you know I think you're handsome. You left yourself wide open for that easy joke."
Mr. C, "Nooooooooope too late, stuck in eternal sorrow and despair, warped and cast upon my mournful and fragile visage; a mere mortal could not comprehend with the true depth of this emotional riptide"
"I beseech you to allow me to make amends. Whatever can I do to return joy to your luscious lips and restore your happy countenance?"
Mr. C, "this is why we're friends."
"I like your brain, too. Though I wish there was a little less pussyfooting about getting together this week"
Mr. C, "Sorry, I've been meaning to text you that I've been trying to think of places we could go"
I suspect there were probably a few things that came to mind, but possibly thought I wouldn't like them, or might think lesser of him for suggesting them, or ..?

I took initiative and browsed the event page of a bookstore I'd been meaning to check out since the Art Walk. We'd originally planned on meeting up on Friday, but I saw there was a book launch and poetry reading on Thursday (Jan 16), and suggested we go.
Mr. C, "Marvelous, what time you wanna meet up?"
"Well, depends if you want to see me in the sunshine or not"
"Sounds tempting indeed." In reviewing FB & my phone for this entry, the time stamps indicate he texted me the below first message before replying "sounds tempting."

Our text back-and-forth:
Mr. C, "My my you give very provocative responses on FB"
"Do I? What'd I say that was provocative?"
Mr. C, "You said the word foot"
"Hm, I do not recall using that word so recklessly. I'll have to be more careful in the future"
Mr. C, "Feet have feelings as well"
"Seems I'll have to be extra soothing"
After a bit more of that type of trying to be funny exchange, I ask him when and where he wants to meet.
Mr. C, "We'll meet at potato and meet between the hours of pot and ato"
I was flabbergasted, and google'd if there was a place in LA called Potato (there is), and could not fathom what to reply other than, "I don't know when pot & ato hours are"
Mr. C, "Yeah neither do I"
I was even more confused, "Uh huh. Am I the butt of some joke I'm not privy to? Why write about pot ato time?"
Mr. C, "I'm just being stupid and making things up."

Eventually, he said to meet at 3, even though he knew the event started at 7:30. Apparently, he did want to see me in the sunshine. This also meant either putting together some sort of picnic, or going to a place to grab a bite. I yelp'd eateries near the shop and the dessert grilled cheese at Syrup piqued my interest. When I suggested it, he texted, "That does sound delightful"

He was an hour and a half late to meet me; he had a job interview that lasted far longer than he anticipated. Two hours is quite an interview.
Luckily, I got a little lost on my way to the connecting train station, and I was a half hour late, myself, and there was some filming action and ice skating happening in the plaza to keep me entertained and pass the time.
I was too hungry to simply wander. The ice cream and grilled cheese was just right. We played game after game of jenga upstairs at the restaurant.
We never made it to the reading. Instead, we sat above in the colorful book maze of The Last Bookstore and talked for hours.
When it seemed like it was closing, we wandered downtown and I took him to the sweet plaza at the top of Angel's Flight, and we sat by the pools and fountains and talked til I had to go to catch the last train back.

A few days later (Jan 19), we were supposed to go to a picnic organized by a mutual friend's meet up group. When the picnic was canceled, I suggested having a bonfire at the beach. I thought I could burn my Christmas tree.
He carpooled with a friend, and another friend joined us. We roasted some sausages and burgers over the fire pit.
Cutely, he asked that I sit next to him. I'd actually brought only two folding chairs and a bench cushion with the intention of finding a way to sit between his legs. However, I waited to attempt the maneuver until one of our friends left. He's an awkward dude, and I didn't want to become the topic of conversation, and he had made a pass at me in the past, and I didn't feel comfortable openly flirting or lounging on another in front of him. So between getting up to get food or warming my tush by the fire, I sat on the sand on my cushion. The other friend brought his own chair. Both Mr. C and the other friend frequently offered their seats.
I found myself brushing my fingers along his shoulders as I passed behind him (the first time I did it, was purely desire, the rest were to repeat the sensation, and I let myself find excuses to walk behind him -- fetch the ketchup I 'forgot'-- and I told myself I could it pass off under the guise of preventing 'tripping' over the logs, which I never moved out of the way, but he never questioned why I touched him -- in fact, earlier, he'd blurted out a request for me to touch him then covered his mouth in surprise that he'd said it. I told him I could definitely fulfill that request).
When the fire waned, I started tossing on the branches I cut off my tree. We all enjoyed the intense sudden blaze of the little fir bits, and each played with the fire. Mr. C then thought it'd be funny to pose 'reading the paper' that happened to be on fire, and asked my friend to take pictures. The pages quickly got too hot to handle and into the fire they went. He tried finding another newspaper to continue the caricature, but they'd all been burned already. The paper bag was still intact, and he posed as a shopper bringing home fire.

When Mr. C asked if I wanted his seat, for the seventh time probably, I finally did say I wanted to sit in front of him. He thought I meant leaning against his shins instead of between them. So, I tried that for a minute, but the pit was too close and his knees too bent and the general arrangement was not working, and I was very Goldilocks happy after I spread his feet and could sit without hunching and curled an arm around his calf and rested my head just above his knee.
Every now and then, he'd squeeze his legs together to sort of say, 'hi' or maybe to give me a sort of happy half hug. I zoned out in the comfort and warmth of his legs and half watched the embers and half listened to my friend and he chat.

in other 'lady' news
caught - Dog & Cat embrace
I never imagined my dog would eat my menstrual cup.

conversations with Mr. C
funny dance - bug climb
I met him at a friend of a friend's party in September. (The 14th to be precise. Ain't digital records grand?)
I liked him straight away.
He saw me eye the seating options in the room and scooted over to give me space, even though there was plenty beside him. I took it as the invitation it was and was pleased that his sense of humor was as awesome as his courteousness.
Plus he's so handsome.
Lovely latte skin
Soulful brown eyes
Playfully curly hair
Including that first encounter, I felt myself continually resist running my fingers along him whenever he's near

The next same friend of a friend party in December (7th) I attended solely because I'd hoped he'd be there.
I also let my friends convince me to wear a little nothing dress because I half-wanted to be come-hither for him.
Lucky for me, I barely took two steps in the door and he was there, so beautifully tall and happy-go-lucky. I pretty much shouted his name in delight, and since he was facing my general direction, I could see his expression shift from vague spacing out to a surprised smile.
I pretty much abandoned my friends at that moment, and we sat and talked the rest of the party. I honestly cannot tell you who else was there aside from the host, the friends I came with, and Mr. C.
And he did not ogle me and I was even more pleased with his gentility.
The friend he carpooled with left sometime during the party, and I generously offered my friend to drive him home.
A bunch of us closed the party down, then went to a 24-hour restaurant.
And even though we were at the same table, I truly could not say who all was there. Photos tell me there were ten of us.

We became FB friends, and that confirmed how young he was (9 years younger -- eek), and that I was sunk because his words online made me like him even more.
He had a bad day just before Thanksgiving and posted that people don't sit next to him on the bus. A few comments from friends later and he wrote, "I normally don't want people sitting next to me because I have slight claustrophobia but even so I still yearn for the subtle companionship of another stranger, who's glowing warmth emanating from their calves brings a faint light to my pitiful, lonely heart."
And I was strangely overjoyed.
A few comment exchanges later after explaining he got lost hiking and had a blister and stepped in horse shit, he wrote, "The only real saving grace of my evening aside from getting out Scott Free with my animal drawings and basically my life was the cutie patootie waitress at the IHOP near me.
"She was the cutiest of the patootiest. I wanted to wrap a soft towel around her head gently and poke her cheeks while she smiles.
"Wow, I literally did not think while typing that."
And as I read, I melted and smiled so stupidly. I still am. But now, reading it again, I hear his voice and can see his gestures and he is so adorable. And says cutie patootie, too.
And I could not help but reply, "I trust you are quite recovered by now, and might bring a compass or line of string next time Griffith Park calls your name.
Pardon my lateness to the party, but this whole comical exchange brightened my day. I must say, I, too, enjoy the glowing warmth emanating from a stranger's calf, and am glad you let me share some of yours in the first few moments of us meeting."

Another post that caught my eye was something about gaming or comics (I can't really tell), and in one of the comments, he wrote that he'd never again stand up for Feminist Frequency. I had never heard of Fem. Freq., but a quickie google search showed me that the overall theme was one of pointing out sexism in games. His changed stance against it seemed counter to what I knew of him, so I asked his thoughts and what caused a shift. In short, he said he liked the concept initially, but the more he saw, the more it seemed obvious the individual who makes the videos isn't particularly interested in genuine discussions of sexism than in stirring up controversy and profiteering. I wrote back a meandering few thoughts on sexism in general and that whatever "is predominately seen within games time and time again, obvious or subtle patterns of unfairness (for lack of a better term), is worthwhile to investigate. It sounds like, however, that the channel you now dislike hasn't approached the reviews with an objective perspective or honest research."
He wrote, "you type more eloquently and charmingly than anyone I've ever met. I've never even had college professors that wrote so neatly and refined."
And when I read it while wandering the booths at Renegade Craft fair (Dec 14), I blushed.
And I said aloud to the friends with me, "I want to kiss his brain."

We chatted online into the wee hours that night.
Then a few back and forths email type exchanges through to the holidays.

Then, on my birthday, I unwittingly said aloud a thought I'd not intended to verbalize, "I want to cuddle with Mr. C."
And my friend who heard me just happened to have his number and invited him over and we talked all evening. I was far too bashful to actually attempt to initiate cuddling, though I wish I had taken him up on sitting on the couch in the crook of his legs.

More light email type exchanges, and I invite him to join me at the dog beach. I offered to pick him up (he's car-less) even though it doubled my drive time. He was so cute in so many ways, the extra cost and time was well worth it.
This was how he got my digits: "what would your number be so I can get a hold of you the day of and thereafter?"
I was a little delayed in the morning (Jan 7), and texted him I'd be about 30 minutes late. I was 20 minutes late, and when I rang the bell, he answered in his pjs, and I melted again. I instantly wanted to join him back in bed and forgo the beach.
He has the cutest giggle I've ever heard. My dog was licking his arms and face and neck and I love the sound of his laugh so much.
Our elbows touched when we were lounging on the sand, and he told me they were touching.
While hugging my pup good-bye, he asked for "one, two, five thousand more dog kisses," and my heart exploded.
He later wrote, "Just wanted to say if I haven't already that yesterday morning was fun and I thank you kindly for the invite. It was delightful hanging with you and being in the company of friendly dogs."

A day later, my mom asked me to drive her to work later in the week so she could leave her car in the shop, and I see an opportunity to stay West of LA for the day. The weather has been glorious for December (fingers crossed rain comes soon, though), and I suggest we meet up at the beach.
The day before, there was an ArtWalk (Jan 9th) he said he'd come to but then couldn't attend. I text ask, "What's keeping you from an evening out w/ art?"
"Art didn't buy me dinner and a drink"
And I'm still chuckling.
Then there was some odd back and forth about timing since I misunderstood a midnight text from my mom that she needed to be at work at 8 instead of the usual 9:30, but she doesn't reply to my clarification request, and that earlier timing puts a quirky wrench in the plans since it's 1:30 by the time I get home, and to get to her work by 8 means leaving by 6:30, and I suggest to Mr. C instead of meeting at the beach around noon, I stay in his neck of the woods or at his place for the day, since on a few hours of sleep, it's either go back home to sleep between drop offs and pick ups, or head to him and nap at his, "which might be too much of an intrusion since we're newly acquainted, and I wouldn't be offended if you didn't want to offer me me space next to you."
He says he wouldn't mind me coming over to catch some sleep, but "I would like to hang out with you a bit more before we come to that." and something about the delicacy of inviting over friends of the opposite sex, and that maybe he thinks sleep is code for something more tiring, and I am reminded how young he is.

Twenty two.

I reply, "I guess I can be patient, and let you treat me like a lady, especially since I definitely want to treat you like a man." (with all the intended double entendres)

After I drop off my mom at 9:30 (Jan 10), I receive a call from my friend who is upset and wants to hang for the day. I begrudgingly invite her along, and she's hours behind, and switches the plan, as usual. I try to ignore the leaving-me-hanging twists, and take the time to sight-see Watts Tower (beautiful park and arts center, too) and run random errands I've let be on the back burner.
We finally meet up and head to a restaurant where Mr. C. and I say and do a couple things in unison -- a mini menu was between Mr. C. and I, and we couldn't see that the other was putting all the tomatoes from our respective salads at the top of our plates.
I tell him he's handsome. He says he's not and shakes his head. I repeat myself, as does he, and we do an 'am not / are, too' until he hears a softening in my voice as I say, "but you are."
On the drive from the meet-up restaurant to the beach, he cracks a couple lame jokes and I half slug his thigh instead of my usual groan response to those kinds of jokes -- I want to touch him so much I hit him is not a healthy thing.
We walk out as far as we can on the jetty and look back at the beach and sit on the rocks a while before going back to the sand.
He says I have beautiful eyes.
Sunset by the surf and I let myself brush off some sand from his pants leg, and he says "poke" each time he gently pokes me (which would be cute if that were not the ten billionth time people have done that -- do I attract the pokers?).
He sees me running my fingers through the crushed shells by my knee and spies a larger half shell a little bit off and gets it for me.
Back in the parking lot, I fetch the band-aids I'd gotten for him (he's mentioned on several occasions that he gets blisters) and he's stunned for a bit, rubs the boxes on his cheeks in the seat next to me, then spontaneously hugs me across the car.
I drop them off at my friend's car, and it sounds like he half asks about next week but I've already headed back to my car, and I couldn't completely understand him, and when I tell him so, he says nevermind. I knew the timing wasn't good for making future plans to get together, so I drop it.
Later that night, he texts, "today was a lot of fun, it was great to see you twice in one week."
To which I reply, "Ditto. In the parking lot, were you trying to say you were free to get together next week?"
"I was yes, if you would like to that is."
"I would. Very much so."
"How much do you wanna hang out next week"
And I think, 'every day,' but say, "Um, depends what you have in mind ...and I'll likely say 'yes' to everything you suggest, if I'm able to participate in the activity or have heard of it"
I know, not sexy, but he did say he wanted to hang out first (what he thinks is second, I know not ... not yet?), and I feel I should only minimally flirt in text until we've both maximally flirted in person.

And that brings us up to now.

comical - "Grimacing Man" Leopold Boilly
Many a year has passed since I've been so enamored with someone I've just met.

I miss him and I don't know him
A few conversations
Lingering day dreams

He's at least nine years younger than I am

And I don't know if age matters
He makes me feel so good
And he's sweet
Deliciously sweet
I resist touching him whenever he's near
Caressing his curls
Sliding my hands along his tall frame

He likes bunnies
He's witty
I laugh all day at one of his jokes

He takes in strays
He loves art
He's got a voice like chocolate

I'm fucked

give me a slice of that
quirk - "Just Alerting You" Rand Munroe
At a friend of a friend's party, I met some truly sweet men.
And such a fact would not be remarkable were it not for the other facts that most of the men in my life, currently, aren't generally sweet.
And I know, best foot forward at parties, and all that first impression stuff...
But, wow, how much I've missed courteous, kind, gentle men.
So much so, that within moments of meeting, I nearly jumped on one to plant a fat thank you kiss, and he wasn't even being more than minimally considerate.

One of the other sweeties, however, I wanted to jump on for additional reasons. In September, when we first met at the same friend of a friend's party, he scooted over to make space for me after my first glimpse around the room for a place to sit. He laughed at my lame joke. He asked permission, then was mindful of his elbows when reaching across me. Plus he's got soulful brown eyes, lovely curls, beautiful hands, and perfect proportions along his 6' 7” frame.
When he and his friends were ribbing one another in the course of the party, I got the chance to check him out nice and slow and I remember thinking, ”that's a mountain I'd like to climb.”
I hear he's a decade my junior, though, which may pose an obstacle or be enough of a cultural gap to hinder compatibility or chemistry.

But that doesn't stop my brain from making him a character in my dreams.

home improv
archaic "to be beautiful" Ponds ad 1907
One of my mother's cousins is coming to stay for a mere four days
And this has prompted my mom to insist on a flurry of household changes.

It started with a request to repaint the spare room.
I was cherry red. Understandable.
It took us two days to pick a cream color for the walls and a green one for the trim.

Then the bedroom furniture wasn't good enough. It was from my childhood, and had a good 20 years. Reasonable.

Then repainting the kitchen was added to the list. It has been in stalled paint limbo ever since the rain damage was repaired and I started painting, but was told the color was no good.
Another couple days trying to color coordinate with the swirly linoleum, wood cabinets, and beige tile counters.

Then replace the couch and futon with a matching set.
Then replace the recliner. But that will be a much more finicky search.
Then steam cleaning the "stained" carpets (there's nary a dime size spot).
Then replacing the "annoying" coffee and end tables. We have yet to find any that are satisfactory.
Then replacing the "worn" toilet seat.
Then replacing the "funky" shower head.
Then replacing the drippy faucet.
Then curtains in the bedroom, living room and den.

I'm taking a break from the vacuuming prep for steam cleaning.
Tomorrow, a service will come for a deep clean of the kitchen and bathrooms.
Thursday, couches and mattress will be delivered.
I've already primed the entire kitchen and bedroom, and painted the trim in the kitchen and the walls in the bedroom. Sometime this week, I've got to finish the trim in the bedroom, and the walls and doors in the kitchen. I've also got to shop for linens, curtains, and tables.

And maybe rugs.


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