Posts Tagged ‘chase’

Tattoos and Tears

August 27, 2018

I just want to write you poetry tonight.

I just want to talk to crows and croon love songs to the full moon.

I keep thinking about adding to my Coup de Foudre tattoo.

Hearts and lightning bolts.

More hearts.

An explosion of hearts.

I think about you.

I cry.

Sometimes I yell at you in the car.

“Don’t give up on me, don’t stop chasing me, this is it, this is the push, don’t stop.”

I want you to come for me.

I want to be the one.

I think about not having you for years.

I still dream about being with you for all my years.

I think about my impending PhD.

I ponder the thinking and reading and writing I will have to do.

And maybe you won’t be a distraction.

And maybe you will.

And maybe you will be the carrot I use to get through the program.

He’ll come back to me when I am a doctor.

He’ll come for me.

As though you’re the reward for doing the work.

I want to grow old with you and be stupid and silly and mad.

I want to have dumb arguments with you and then have make up sex.

God.

I haven’t really thought too much about the sex.

I think I am afraid to.

I will get lost in the glory of the memories and beat my heart harder on the wall around you.

I long for you.

I dream about you.

The moon full in the sky beckons me to you.

I think about you walking outside.

I think about you sleeping.

I wish to be wrapped up in your arms.

I long to not be heartbroken.

Heart broke open.

Heart in the mouth of crow flying across the miles to you.

That’s the tattoo I keep thinking about.

A crow on my back flying with a heart in its mouth.

An anatomical heart.

With wild daisies growing out from it.

I feel hollowed out.

I miss you baby.

I miss you much.

This isn’t even a poem.

This isn’t even a blog.

This is just a list, a litany, a compilations of thoughts about you.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I can’t go on without you.

And yet I keep going on.

I have changed and I can’t tell where it is leading me.

I just fervently hope.

Pray.

Wish.

That it leads me back to you.

I just want to be your Buttercup.

I just want to be your baby.

Baby.

I just want to be yours.

Always.

Forever.

Your.

Baby Girl.

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September 11, 2016

Make your own damn dinner.

And.

Buy your own damn flowers.

And.

Always.

ALWAYS.

Have a back up plan.

Especially when you realize, hmm, it’s 4:30 p.m. and nary a text regarding the dinner date I was supposed to be on tonight.

Especially since said date didn’t text me this morning like he said in his last message.

I sort of chalked that up to whatever and went about my day.

I did yoga.

God damn I like my Saturday teacher.

I wish he was teaching more often at the studio, but he’s committed to another studio.

He is hands down my favorite instructor and though Saturday 9a.m. is going to be a busy day for a yoga class anywhere in San Francisco, I feel like his class is often super packed because he’s just a great teacher.

I definitely got my yoga on this morning.

I left the studio floating, a glow, a beacon of light in the fog.

Fuck you fog.

Over it.

Done.

Give me back that precious San Francisco Indian Summer you so rudely appropriated.

Cold and chilly and foggy all day long.

Hopefully tomorrow that will lift a little.

I have another date, different guy, obviously, tomorrow to go on a hike around Glen Canyon.

I have never hiked around Glen Canyon.

I realized when I was mapping it out that I had been thinking McClaren Park, not Glen Canyon, so a brand new experience to have in the city.

Stoked for it.

I also just texted tomorrow’s date and asked for confirmation.

This lady has things to do and places to be if there’s not a date happening.

Which was exactly what happened today.

I had back up plans in case this evening’s date fell through.

I used to think that was weak, to doubt the date, to make other plans, then I just realized, no, it’s fucking practical and it leaves me not feeling stood up and left out.

I have a busy life and if this dude can’t even make the effort to text and at least say, thanks but no thanks, then fuck, I got things I can attend to.

Which I did.

I got my nails done and my eyebrows.

I met with my person and I did the deal.

I had coffee and checked in.

I went grocery shopping.

And when I got home at 4 p.m. on the nose and saw that tonight’s date hadn’t texted yet I began to set into motion the other things I was going to do today.

Homework.

So thanks dude for not getting back to me.

I got a fuck load of reading done.

The other thing that was nice about today’s date or lack there of, was that its location was advantageous to me.

It was going to be dinner in my hood.

Like a block and a half away.

I could be here at the house reading my homework with no qualms and if dude was tied up and forgot to text or get a hold of me I was fine doing my thing.

If I had been elsewhere or the date was elsewhere I would have texted to confirm.

But.

I had this voice, quiet and assured.

Don’t fucking chase.

He revealed himself.

And.

I didn’t need to send some passive aggressive text wondering about what was happening.

When the clock hit 4:30 p.m. and I was done unpacking my groceries and balancing my check book and had redone my hair, I knew.

It was going to be a solo dinner for this lady.

I just opened up my syllabus for my Family Therapy class and got down to the reading.

And for tomorrow.

If I don’t get a text back from date number two.

Fuck no, will I be scooting over to Glen Canyon.

I feel better about tomorrow’s date though, it’s not really a blind date.

Yes.

We did match on Tinder.

But.

We’ve known each other for years.

So it was a sort of fun surprise.

And no.

I’m not back on Tinder.

This guy just happened to sneak through before I had deleted the app on my phone.

In fact.

Ha.

I just realized that the one person I am planning on for sure seeing, one of the ladies I work with, hasn’t confirmed with me tomorrow.

I may have more time than I thought.

I usually meet with two ladies on Sunday, one already cancelled, for a really legit reason, and the other has not confirmed.

So I may have a little free time tomorrow before the afternoon date at three p.m.

Note to self.

Cook food for the week.

I got my groceries, now they just need the cooking.

I did hold off on cooking dinner tonight in the off-chance that dude came through, but I did make myself a nice dinner before I went out to see some fellows over at Divisadero and Turk Street.

The other thing I had planned in case tonight’s date fell through.

And it was hella good.

So nice to see my people.

So nice to be seen.

I was invited out to Brenda’s for some fellowshipping, but having already made myself a really nice meal, I decided to come back here, do some writing, call it an early night, watch a video and get up early and do a yoga class in the morning.

I signed up for the 9a.m. class again.

It’s with a teacher I have never had before.

Which always makes me a little nervous, but having been to three classes this week after the long absence, I feel pretty good about being able to hold my own in whatever class I end up in.

Plus.

I’m grateful to have time to take yoga.

I am still on the studio’s monthly plan and when I can it just makes sense to go.

Thank God, again, that the studio is on the block I live on.

Funny that.

I was just thinking.

Tonight’s date lives a block and a half away from me and in the three years I have lived here we have never once met.

Looks like we were never intended to.

Oh well.

Grateful for the information.

Now moving on.

But not chasing.

Oh no.

Never that.

Letting myself be pursued maybe the hardest thing about this whole dating thing.

But man.

It feels so much better than chasing.

Be the ball, Martines.

Be the motherfucking ball.

I am so worth being pursued.

Seriously.

You’re Hella Hot

May 27, 2016

And you’re not chasing after anything.

Just a reminder to myself as I almost reached out to someone to be all like, um, come over.

I don’t need to be doing that.

I am just feeling my oats.

I’m over the jet lag and the weirdo sickness I had early in the week.

And.

Fuck.

I did yoga today.

Holy shit.

That was good.

I’m probably going to be sore tomorrow, the instructor for the classes that I got to on Monday and Thursday has the sneaky way of getting us into these poses that I’m all great in the moment, then the next day I think my arms are going to fall off my shoulders.

But right now?

Fuck.

I am on fire.

Could be that I just saw a bunch of really special, awesome, amazing women.

I realized as I looked around the room, how many people I knew and loved and how many of the women in that space I had some direct connection with.

I’m pretty fucking lucky to have these ladies in my life.

Plus.

Well.

Tomorrow is Friday.

“You look good,” she said to me, “look at your legs!”

“You’ve been doing yoga,” another girl friend said, “haven’t you?”

“What happened in New York?  I haven’t been following your blog,” she asked.

I gave the dish.

There’s always a lot to dish about.

Yeah, I talk about sex and wearing my heart on my sleeve and being all transparent, but some times there’s things that only the girl friends get to hear.

“Elk Grove?  That’s too far away!”  She said, “got to get action closer to town.”

I smiled.

“And what about,” she said.

“Nope, not enough time,” I replied.

“Give him a few months,” she smiled and her eyes twinkled.

The things is.

I don’t have to do anything, I don’t have to manipulate or text or pull strings or make shit happen.

Life.

Love.

Sex.

Making out.

Dancing.

Everything, all the time, it’s happening.

I just usually need to get the fuck out of the way.

Show up, let go of expectations and see what happens.

And just because I’m feeling sassy doesn’t mean I have to act on it.

I can just enjoy the energy in my person and do some dancing in my room or you know, rub one out, not like I don’t have the equipment to take care of business.

Rechargeable like.

Cuz that’s how I roll.

I’m single and available for dating.

“You need to date a bunch of guys,” she said to me over the table at Tart to Tart, “don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

Yeah.

I know.

I can get all up on someone and be like, ok, let’s make this work.

Nope, lady, it’s just investigations.

See where things go.

I like adventure.

I get to remember that this is all an adventure.

I haven’t been much on Tinder but I’m not off the app either.

I haven’t really been asked out, well, ha, that’s not true, I just had to pause and say, no, I’m flattered, but you got to focus on  you for the time being.

And it’s not like I’m not getting some fun and flirtatious texts from another gentleman.

I’m just not getting things on my time.

Because.

You know.

I want it all right now.

NOW.

Damn it.

But that’s not how it works, never has for me anyway.

People got schedules and lives and they don’t always comply to mine.

And things change.

Life changes.

If you had told me six months ago that the person I was head over heels for was not going to be in my life anymore, no phone calls, no texts, no connections, I would have been like, what ever, that is so not happening.

But.

It was for the better.

It was pretty cool to scooter through the intersection the other day at 46th and Irving as he was crossing the opposite way in his car.

He flashed his lights and waved.

I waved back and smiled.

We went our opposite directions.

And that was that.

I totally forgot about it until I saw his room mate the other night at my thing up the street that I go to on Wednesday night.

For a second I looked around half expecting him to walk in the door and then.

Nothing.

It was gone again.

No pain.

No upset.

No thought about it.

Just calm and serene and chatting with a friend before coming home and writing and having some tea.

I’m in a super happy place right now.

I think that is a part of it.

I want to share it.

And I am.

I am sharing it with you.

The dating or the not dating or the sex or the not having sex, let’s have sex though, shall we, will happen without me pulling strings and trying to organize it.

Natural.

And fun and easy.

Because when I try to make shit happen.

Shit happens.

I’d rather remember that I am here to date the man God wants me to date.

And yes.

I know exactly how fucking hokey that sounds.

But.

God’s got my back.

I know it.

There are no mistakes in God’s world.

So.

I say.

Sit back, lady, relax, enjoy the showing up and the willingness to try and see what is to be had, to have fun, to let loose, to dance, to shake it out, to be alive.

Alive is nice.

I got a three day weekend coming up and a date for next Saturday.

My impatience is just a defect of character.

God’s time.

Martines.

All in good time?

No, God’s time.

Not my time.

Never my time.

Remember that.

Have fun.

Dress sexy because it makes me happy to do so.

And see what happens.

 

“Be the ball, Martines,” Shadrach said to me.

Words to live by.

Be the fucking ball.

I’m not here to chase.

I’m fucking worthy of the pursuit.

I’ll just be over here having a fun time until then.

Life.

Is.

Fucking.

Amazing.

Three day weekend!

Bring it.


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