With the Drive about to start, I need to clean up these back pages.
On Match you can send a “wink”. The recipient knows that you are interested but that you lack courage to just write a note like “hi”. Why would you do that?
Anyway, in response to one I received I wrote back:
That slight closing of one eye,
was not due to a solitary fly.
Was there too much grit in the air?
Or, perhaps some reflected glare?
No, it was from no other sensations
than everyone's wish for new relations.
Oh, this is a good story.
I actually worry about interacting with other writers while on-line dating.
Why? What if they don’t like my material. Or worse, what if I don’t like theirs? My social skills still need improvement. The following is an example of what not to do. A lady shared a poem with me. Truly, I didn’t like it, but I didn’t outright say that. Instead I said her poem inspired me to write:
You can have some,
But is too much really bad for you?
Sugar and sweet is not its best form.
It does go well with low lights, music and red wine.
You can use it to celebrate,
But it comes in handy on those down days.
Brought to you, it's a big favor.
Given to others, it's a great gift.
In (not much) time she would get angry with me.
And then I wrote another ditty, purely from the content of a profile. I love doing these and I love profiles that have enough content to inspire these. Can you imagine the inspiration of being around her a lot? Well, keep imagining, she didn’t respond.
Hot air balloons launching at dawn.
Little fuzzy cygnets following the swan.
Winter sleigh ride in New York City.
A ball of twine entangling a kitty.
Fireworks exploding to gasps and glee.
Aruba's pink sands framing the sea.
Wonders come in many forms and sights.
Wonders are everywhere causing delight.
Ed note: I forgot to mention, while in Astoria I did stay at an Airbnb place. I didn’t want you to think I was totally failing on my mission.
So, it is off to the races, again. Still using my new poet super powers, which I don’t do anymore, I took relevant info out of profiles and wrote them something original. The following are all to different ladies.
Now those are twinkling eyes.
Don't they belong in the sky?
Don't they belong in a vault?
They make my heart somersault.
Did you see the full moon last night?
It was up early.
Was it excited to get to work?
Or was it as excited as I am to see you?
She was dressed up in a wispy, vermilion number.
Quite lovely really. I just had to stop and stare.
Was it really just for me?
Even though the whole world was there.
Moods and phases.
Waxing and waning.
There is a lot
That needs explaining.
Ok, I'll acknowledge you are sending me flirts. That is not the way to get my attention.
I have a very active and imaginative brain. I also have a pretty active and in shape body.
I am not so shallow as to be an ordinary skirt chaser.
I am expensive. I need you to excite me.
In exchange, I can excite you. Well, I would try.
Failing that means we aren't compatible.
I'm an easy man to please, if you have the tools.
Ok, now before you get all upset at me sending this you need to understand the situation. I was in this weird communication loop. I would send her a message and her only reply was a “wink” or “flirt”. I kept asking her to actually type or call or meet. My patience wore out. She didn’t reply.
Tonight was built upon
Every moment preceding.
Remember hard times won,
Early pain receding.
Show the world your sun,
Absolute joy exceeding.
From History#5 do we all remember an Acrostic? I enjoy the challenge. I have a feeling that I have another one laying around, but I can’t seem to find it.
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.