Numbers Part I

A friend and I were talking the other day and the subject of "numbers" came up. Numbers in this context were the number of people that you have slept with. I honestly do not know my number. Numbers were never important to me. I can give a ballpark figure but that is about it. A good friend of mine, who died from cancer three years ago, knew his exact number even though it increased exponentially every time he told the story.

I have no doubt that it was a high number but he wrapped his whole identity up with his number. He was "that guy" in every sense of the word because since he was my roommate for a while, I saw how he treated women the morning after. They would have been better off he would have written them a short note and taped cab fare to their foreheads and he disappear for a while the next morning for the kind of treatment they received.

When I saw him the next day he had to give me the details, none of which I wanted to hear. I would mess with him and talk football or some other sport the entire time and it got quite comical. The conversation would go something like this.

"Did you hear me with that girl last night?"
No. The Panthers play the Vikings today.
Are you sure? We made a lot of noise.
Yes I am sure the Panthers play the Vikings. They have an excellent chance of winning.
She blew me twice.
The Panthers defense may be the best in football.
I took her home this morning and got rid of her.
The kickoff is in about twenty minutes.

I finally decided to somewhat play along so I said, "She blew you, huh?"
He would throw up two fingers and say "Twice!" like that was some sort of sex record and a band should start playing and confetti should fall from the ceiling. We repeated that a few time and every time he would say "twice" I would laugh like hell.

A Man Of Letters

I have always enjoyed a good, old fashioned hand written letter. I remember when I was growing up my Grandmother used to write my Aunt Minnie at least once a week and my Aunt Minnie only lived 25 miles away. My Grandmother used to give me enough money to go to the store on the corner to buy her some stamps and me a comic book. I recently came into possession of several of those letters and it makes me feel close to a woman who always managed to dote on me no matter what the circumstance.

Some of the women I have dated and I have tried letter writing "campaigns" before but they usually waned after a short period of time. I have kept all of those letters I received from them in a place where no one can touch them. I read through them once in a while because the letters still mean something to me.

I was rummaging through some of my stuff when I was cleaning out my storage unit the other day and I came upon a box full of my papers. I picked through a few of them and I found one that caught my attention. It was an e-mail I had printed off dated July 20, 2008. This woman and I had developed a harmless flirtation but it wasn't going to go anywhere because she was married. She was not happily married and that is why she was putting herself out there.

"I'll tell you why you fascinate me. Because you are really cute, smart and not like a dork smart, you are super funny, seem so down to earth, I think you do like strip clubs but probably not as much as you make out, and on the outside you seem like a hard manly man, but I bet you are like a teddy bear. Not a lot of men keep journals much less tell a chick they do."

The woman was born with a heart defect and was not supposed to live past the age of 15 or have kids (she had two) but unfortunately she was living on borrowed time. I moved away and we stayed in touch and the last time I heard from her a couple of years ago, she had been put on a heart transplant list. I found out not like ago that her time had ran out and she passed away. I will always cherish this "letter" from her.

A Psychiatrist's Dream

I include a lot of music and lyrics into my blogs because music and the lyrics often says things I can't or says them better than I can. I had pulled out some old CD's this afternoon I had burned within the past ten years and was listening to some artists that have long been forgotten (at least by me) and I had to look a few of them up to see who they even were. I have eclectic musical tastes and I often connect memories to certain songs. Every time I hear a certain song, a particular memory will come to mind. Not all of the memories are good and when I hear the song, I immediately turn it off.

This afternoon a song entitled "Your Guts... I Hate 'Em" by an interesting group called Reel Big Fish started playing. I remember the song very well. The memory this song sparked was this was the song that was playing when a female friend of mine came to pick me up at the Nudie Bar when I was too drunk to drive myself home. This female friend and I were both having relationship problems at this time and this song really fit our mood.

"I wrote this song about you
Just to let you know that I hate your guts
And I think you suck"

This female friend and I ended up having sex that night so we were able to channel our anger about our relationship problems into each other and I always think of her every time I hear this song.

The Party Is Over

11 weeks of my life that had such potential to really get some things accomplished, to clear my mind, and unite my body and soul, came crashing down around me with hardly a sound. I have to return to work tomorrow and these 11 weeks may have been the most counterproductive that I have ever spent in my life. It seems that I have spent the entire time dealing with everyone else's issues and problems, some life defining and some trivial, but I could not seem to heal myself.

Therefore I get to start over one more time but at least I have the opportunity to start over. I do appreciate what I have, where I have come from, and the direction I am going. I have seen those that lie, cheat, and steal prosper and I believe in the goodness of the universe and all it has to offer. It is time for me to receive the best the universe has to offer.

The Gold Digger

I ran into a woman the other day that I had gone out with about four or five years ago. Some friends and I had gone out for a late lunch at the Cracker Barrel and I was waiting outside as she was coming out the door. My first thought was "this woman is pretty hot" and then she turned around and I recognized her. She recognized me as well and gave me a hug. It surprised me so much to see her, it threw me off my game. I did manage to get out that it was a great surprise to see her and the last I heard she was remarried and living in Florida. She muttered something about she "was going through it again" so I assumed she meant divorce.

Outside of her looks and the fact that she had lost weight and the body was now smoking hot, was the fact that she had the uniform on of the Cracker Barrel waitress. My friend saw us hug and talk for a few minutes and he asked me about her. I told him that she and I had gone out a couple of times several years ago but I thought she was a gold digger. She had grown accustomed to a certain high standard of living and wasn't going to settle for anything else. I found it ironic that she was now working at the Cracker Barrel and just a little bit karmatic. I know that is not a word but it is my blog. I am sure she will keep digging until she finds another pot of gold.

I have dated several gold diggers over the past ten years or so and I discovered several things about myself and about that type of woman. What do I have to offer the gold digger? They love the sex, they love my sense of humor, and they love my personality and intelligence, but all I really have to offer as far as "gold" goes is $500 in rolled up change in a sock drawer, a Toyota with over 160,000 miles on it and taped up windows, and a career as a retail flunky. I may hate country music but I am living a country song if anyone ever has.

The Falcon Has Landed

I was standing in my kitchen the other day when a Falcon landed on my balcony. It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime kind of moments. That was the closest I had ever been to a Falcon. It was mere feet away. Luckily the door was closed but I could see him through the glass door. He was such a powerful, majestic bird. He sat there a few minutes while I ran and grabbed my camera. I got in a few shots before he flew off. He reappeared a few moments later and this time I just admired him. He flew off again, this time up on the roof but he was gone for good.

I can trace my heritage in the mountains of North Carolina back to the 1780's. Most of the mountain people believed in signs or what most other people would call superstitions. If certain things happened it meant something. A lot of people believe in signs from God. For example, one of my uncle's told me one time that if you heard a Mourning Dove, it meant that it would rain within 24 or 48 hours or something like that. I remember him telling me that when I was about 16 years old. Every time I hear a Mourning Dove, it rains within a day.

The more I thought about the Falcon landing on my balcony and what a rare occurrence that was, I got curious about what that meant. It had to have some kind of significance attached to it. I turned to the internet to do some research. I found a website entitled whats-your-sign.com that provided an answer. I don't know if it is "the" answer or not but I guess it is all in what you believe.

"The Falcon animal totem represents visionary power, wisdom, and guardianship. This powerful bird awakens visionary power, and leads you to your life purpose. The Falcon carries with it a message of transition- perhaps in your vocation, work, career, etc."