The ending of the Helenic period.
Yes, I tried. I was as forward as is possible for me.
I wrote her poetry.
But no, she was steadfast in her refusal to see, properly.
So, I gave up, writing her this:
I love you. Hold on, hang with me.
I don't really know the meaning of the word, but I do know the feeling of the word.
I know the feeling I get from talking with you, making you laugh, making you poems.
Actually, I even dream about you, though I don't really remember them.
This must be love.
But it is not an all-consuming love. I'm not a Romeo.
So, I've come to realize that even though there is not enough love in this world,
there is plenty.
And the more you make, the more there is.
It is not a zero sum game.
So, you have helped me make love, which I will take into my numbers game.
As a consolation prize, and my don’t we like those, we have stayed friends and communicate quite often. She has been strongly encouraging that I will find my next one. I have not been so gracious. Hmmm, maybe that is a problem.
So, why was I in Astoria, Oregon? I was sorta invited to an open mic poetry read by a lady I was trying to establish a long distance relationship with.
I made it to the open mic event, as did she. I drove further.
The event was great. Astoria is great. There are real writers there. And, mostly, they are my age or older. They were appreciative of my performance and asked me to come back.
Yet, I still wrote this poem:
Title: First Meeting
My pulse is doing it again.
You would not want me performing surgery
Or even licking stamps.
Monarchs have nothing over the butterflies in my stomach.
However, I’m here.
This is important because,
They say at the end of the day
What is important?
So here I am.
I had things.
I know stories.
Love, I had and lost.
Now I’m searching.
And to search is to take risks.
And to take risks is to grow and improve.
And to improve means my pulse, one day,
Will act normal.
Or will it?
I’m here to meet you.
Are you the love that I can now
Roll in, relish, relax in?
And all because of the
Call me an eternal optimist.
Not wanting to pass up an opportunity to embarrass myself, Helen looked at my profile, why? So I wrote:
What did I find at the top of the list,
This morning when I checked my view?
Somebody that always brightens my day.
Yes, Helen, dear Helen, just you.
But, of course, that didn’t win her heart. So, after a discussion we had over another pass she had received I wrote her another song. Again, no music.
Dang, this week has been nothing but a bore.
I'm going on-line and trying to score.
Urgently, there is a note in my box.
Some unknown cowboy calling me a fox.
Good tasting women. (Chorus)
Give me plenty of air.
It's my heart you're killin.
We'll make a good pair.
For sure this will put a fix to my frazzle.
A note from a cowboy, ready to dazzle.
I'm already practicing my perfect smile.
Ready for his truck to lay down the miles.
I can read how he wants me in my own bed.
But really he's talking only about my warm shed.
Where he can do his work, get out of the cold.
Here's one long distance romance that won't get old.
In on-line dating there are these annoying profiles. They have no pictures and very little information. In other words, they are clogging the channel for us serious daters. Frustrated, I sent the following. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t get a response back.
Who are You?
Are you really mean?
That's why you can't be seen?
Do you get a lot of lectures?
Why no posted pictures?
Are you a cougar, a predator?
Sneaking up, disturbing no air?
Seeing but not seen.
Disappearing if not keen.
Are you window shopping?
Or are you stopping
To send out messages?
Or to receive blind passes?
We have left the Ell period (and of course, that is not her real name). We are now entering the Helenic period. Helen is a good name for her for many reasons but primarily, where Ell ignited and played with my poetry, Helen has inspired.
Sharp readers will have noted a reference to Helen in September of ’16. She was a long distance relationship (LDR). She wrote an excellent profile, which is how you catch my attention on this site. We emailed, texted and phoned. A date was arraigned in her town. I think it went well, even for me. We took a long walk and talk after a long lunch. We agreed to set up a second date at some upcoming Oktoberfest event. I went home happy. And then she cancelled. Turns out I wasn’t the one. Lights out.
And then I hear from her again. What, 6,7,8 months later. She essentially explains that she missed my friendship and I, of course, completely misinterpret the situation. I insist on playing an ’80s brat pack movie, with me playing the role of the smitten geek in pursuit. However, I think to myself, I’m now a poet. Who could resist? So poetry started flowing.
I can do my chores, clean my messes.
I can feed myself, comb my tresses.
I am totally able to do my finances.
I am wholly, completely secure in my oneness.
One is the most special of numbers.
Unlike adding to any other,
If you take the time and the trouble,
Adding one to one makes it double.
Two opens the door for rapport.
Two offers a place for comfort.
Two provides something to support.
Two explains the reason to court.
It is off to the races. Enjoy.
Been at this on-line dating scene for some time, can’t say that I understand it any better.
For example, why would someone join this site, agree to a meet and then never show up or offer an excuse later?
As I see it there are three major aspects to on-line dating once you are up and running; writing, phoning, meeting. It has to be obvious the most important is meeting. But do you try to set up a meet soonest, without some mutual interest already being set. Some people are better/worse at writing. Same with talking/texting.
But imagine this common scenario:
Two people see each other’s profiles and pictures, drop a line saying let’s meet Tuesday and then do. Where is the spontaneity, the mysterious, the magic? You know you are walking into that coffee shop with a person waiting, waiting for an interview.
Instead, imagine this.
She is walking through the botanical gardens and spots the man taking pictures. He has obviously had some miles put on the tires but still looks good, somewhat weather worn and geeky. She drifts down to see what flowers have caught his attention. Bumping into him slightly she apologizes. He looks up with a smile and says hello. Then his brow wrinkles. She lightly places her hand on his arm and asks him if everything is ok. He looks at her and says how he knew something had been wrong with the flowers, but hadn’t been able to place it. He tells her he thought something had been missing and now, looking into her eyes, he knows what.
So, it is over with Ell. Time to get back to work.
Like a kid with a new toy, I am now a “poet”. Which means I have to be a poet.
Over the next few weeks I insert poems into initial greetings. I’ll share a few below, but basically I want to say they had no effect, which is not to say they didn’t have a bad effect. No response from any of these. I don’t do this anymore. You’ll be shaking your head, but all of these were written within some context of their profile. I had to show how clever I could be.
Is your intuition still on high?
For you, I am just not the right guy.
Or are you holding back on the start?
Of what could be a path to your heart.
Didn't your Mother say,
Dark alleys and gutters, you should not stay.
Wasn't she very clear,
Fun at first, but what came of too much beer?
Oh, hello again.
It is nice to see
My young friend from the
State of Hawaii.
Most people are jealous
Of what you do not miss.
Searching, searching all over
Where is the state of bliss?
A cricket is an odd creature
To think that it is a feature.
Small and hard and black and shiney
Folks want to render it slimey.
Then there is the music to hear.
Quite the enjoyment to be near.
They are an interesting class.
Specially if you are a bass.