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The old 60s slogan “Make Love, Not War” is becoming my life. I have met an ex-radical Iranian man…that’s with an “n” not a “q.” Although he is Iranian by birth, he was raised north of the border and he has lived all over the world. And although he was once a radical (when he lived in England) he isn’t any more. Too old, he says. Today after a meeting downtown he walked over to Dailey Plaza to see what was up with the world trade protest. OH! I wouldn’t even chance it. 1000s of cops in RIOT GEAR!
We have been on two quasi-dates. I told him I want to take it slow, become deep friends first, and he agreed. He is exotic and forbidden. My brothers would not accept him. He is my secret. In my biased brain I see those Iranian women dressed in black with the scarf across their face getting beaten. He never lived that. Abhors it.
I could learn so much from this man. He is very open. A gentleman. Hilarious. Some moments when I am with him I think we could change the war. Heal it up with love.
Prevent a Mideastern/American massacure.
He tempts me.
I think he may really be a spy. Hard to say for who.
He seems a little dangerous. I could use some input here…help.
Result: Too pushy. Although when I went to say good bye I said I could call to explain why, that I at least owed him that, and he left me a message that said, "You don't owe me anything. Follow your guts." Well, that made me think so much more of him. I ended up getting attracted to him all over again.
His name is Adam. I like the primalness of his name. The first man. The progenitor. Which makes me the first woman…Eve. We will have two children…boys. Just what I want! I will have to have sex with them. Wait! It’s not allowed!!!!!!! JERRY JERRY JERRY Cain will go on The Jerry Springer Show and confess to murdering his brother and sleeping with his mother.
I better forget Adam…but he is so delicious.
Result: Too conflicted. Me/God? Me/God? Me/God? It was too much. I can't be Jezebel. Been there, done that.
On Sunday I am meeting Peter. He is a stoneman. Not a caveman. A man that imports fine marble and granite. He is Italian, a bit too handsome. He says he has a truckful of pieces that I can use in my work. The thought of the stone…”stone is a mountain, it has integrity…rock is what falls off, it is nothing”…makes me drool. I act too giddy around him. I can’t help it. Ideas are jettisoning through my mind. He even recommended two books for me. I have excitedly read them. Time for another walk to expel some of this anticipation.
Result: Turns out that I was more excited about the stone than the man. One brunch and Poof!
Happy 27th to Sally!
Sorry baby, I just had to let you go.
My sailor once said that there are lots of men like him in California. According to the weatherguy, supposedly the northern sector of the country is going to be milder than normal. I could take my winter vacation to gather up Washington and Oregon, then traipse down into Cali, snag a cranky, humorous fellow, and take him home with me.
Now there’s a plan!
Result: Nothing to report.
