The older I get, the more I appreciate days that go smoothly; decent traffic, good health, a roof over my head and food on our table. Don’t ever forget that a dash of flirty fun and sassiness adds some flavor to the smooth sailing too darlings.
Yes, smooth sailing is smiling and laughing and letting yourself be yourself.
It has been a week of learning, fresh starts, and a long exhale…
Hoping that this song by Leon Bridges helps start your day in a positive way…
The universe has a silly and cruel way of picking me up, putting me over its’ knee, and giving me a hard tap on the bottom whenever I think I know what to expect.
As deliciously seductive as that may sound, I like to think that I’m more mature than that darlings.
I like to think that having been around the block a time or two, I know every trick in the book. I like to think that, but I’m wrong, wrong, terribly wrong, when it comes to some matters of the heart.
If you read my last post, “And Then He Kissed Me”, you’ll know that I was giving some of you a bit of a tweak on the bottom to get up, out, and onto the next lucky lover.
Today, I walked right smack-dab into the middle of a grand spanking of consciousness. The universe is trying to tell me something, and I don’t know what it is. Perhaps, as my friend Darleen thinks, it’s simply telling me to quit going to my favourite coffee shop. Thank you, Darleen for your pragmatism.
This morning, waiting for my half-sweet-whatever-was-brewing, I experienced that eerie feeling of being watched. Looking up, who caught my eye? No, not some long-lost love my darlings. It happened to be a-not-so-long-lost-I-don’t-know-what-to-call-him.
I wouldn’t call him a ‘fling’. It didn’t last long enough for that. I wouldn’t call him a lover, although we do have some intimate knowledge of one another. I wouldn’t call him anything other than a brief blip on my man-radar. An entertaining little shenanigan which lasted one rather long Saturday , into the wee hours of the next morning.
I do seem to recall having nicknamed him, “L’Enfant” when recounting our chance second meeting to my fabulous, but very married gal-pals.
You see, I met L’Enfant over a year ago while doing some writing on a snowy December evening. I politely declined getting together due to our vast age difference (ok darlings, not so politely – I stood the poor kid up at the very last minute).
We met yet again this spring, and I thought it was more than just coincidence, so I consented to one simple day time get-together in a public place. You know, just to see if perhaps my kinky universe would reveal a greater purpose. It did not.
On the surface this charming young man was entertaining, inspiring, and a huge shot in the arm for my ego. But I know better than to indulge in something like that. There is always fallout, and inevitably, a small piece of jagged shrapnel gets imbedded deeply in my psyche and wiggles around, causing discomfort for years.
I took the encounter for what it was – a distraction from the mundane, and an experience to reinforce my idea that I shall no longer waste my time on men who do not hold the promise of something absolutely delicious and sustainable.
So, today, as the barista finished making my whatever-you-want-to-call-it, I took a seat across from L’Enfant, and chatted with him about his work, the Syrian crisis, the new iPhone, and sports. That is all.
I wonder about meeting this little cutie-patootie for a third time by chance. I simply wonder. If he were 10 years older I wouldn’t be sitting here typing about my curiosity. Instead, I would have found a way to be making unabashed, passionate love to this fellow under blankets by the river…..
Perhaps the universe is just feeding my imagination for a while, stirring hope, wonder and a bit of inspiration?
Time will tell my sweet little peaches. Time will tell….