The Ghost of What Might Have Been

I had a former lover reach out to me today.

His Instagram feed suggested he connect with me.

This was my new “professional” Instagram account.

I had decided I would try to do a little light marketing using the social platform for bringing in new clients.

I had met with a colleague this past week and talked about what happens when therapy works–your clients leave and go live their lives.

Which is fucking beautiful and awesome.

And oh shit!

I have to bring in more clients.

I told my colleague that I had been thinking about marketing and what that might look like and I decided to start a professional Instagram account.

I have been on Instagram from the very beginning of the app as I had worked at a hipster bicycle shop that insisted that all the employees use the platform.

I literally have thousands of photos on the app.

I’ve just had it that damn long.

So, I thought, I’ve got plenty of experience posting, I’ll give it a go for my therapy business.

My colleague said, “be careful what you wish for,” when I told her I wanted to bring in more clients.

She predicted a deluge.

I would like that.

I have had a fairly substantial turn over of clients and found myself in a touch of financial scarcity fear.

I understand that there really is nothing to be afraid of, it’s just my first time having this experience.

It will continue to happen.

I will have clients who leave, or drop down in frequency of sessions.

I’m not a therapist who thinks you have to do therapy for life.

I have seen marked, amazing changes in my clients and I’m happy for them and I’ve had some really beautiful things reflected back to me in closing sessions.

Therapy is pretty fucking awesome.

My own included.

I have been doing some pretty big work on early childhood abuse and trauma.

Realizing when I dissociate.

Good grief, I do it more than I think I even realized.

And I tend to do it when someone who is available for dating romantically is interested in me.

Cue today’s former lover reach out.

I got a text this morning from a number I didn’t know and a question about my practice.

I was like, um, who is this?

I knew it wasn’t a spam bot, but I didn’t have the number in my phone.

And something about the tone of the text, tone is very tongue and cheek, how does one gauge the “tone” of a text?

Something nudged me to respond.

He gave me some particulars and it came cascading back.

He was someone that I had talked myself out of at the time.

We had a spectacular date, in fact, even while it was happening I was telling myself that he wasn’t interested in me.

My brain, sigh, parts of my psyche that I am doing a hell of a lot of work around, thanks early childhood trauma, that keep getting pulled into the light of day, talked me out of pursuing something with him.

He was gorgeous, genius level smart and thought I was beautiful.

He told me on the call, I did agree to a call, mostly out of curiosity, but also, not going to lie, he was the best date I’d ever had on an app.

Side bar.

Awful second date tonight on a Hinge date earlier.

Last date off that app, not a great experience with the app or the dates.

I was kind and I know the guy was interested, but I felt deadened and half energy and he repeated the exact same stores, almost verboten that he had told me the first date.

The only difference in the date was the food eaten.

There will not be a third date.

Anyway.

So back to other dude.

We had a great connection, sex that was fire, he introduced me to an amazing album of music, we talked about God, spirituality, Burning Man, natch, I always talk about Burning Man, but this time it was because I was getting ready to head out to playa for a nanny gig. I like dude so much I almost talked him into coming with me, but he couldn’t, he had a crazy intense high powered science job.

Dude was smart.

So we were going to reconnect when I got back from the burn.

Except two things happened.

One, I talked my way out of a second date.

Yes, if you read the big paragraph just a few sentences up, I did have sex on the first date, but it was a Tinder date and that’s what I wanted. I did not know I was going to have in my top five best experiences or have rapport with someone that was mind bending good looking or super smart and introduced me to amazing new music.

So, yeah, first I talked myself out of a second date.

He had reached out to me to say, hey I’m a tiny bit under the weather and would I mind coming over to his place and having soup and just chilling and snuggling?

I remember getting the text, and I have such a vivid memory of it that I can even replay the scenario in my head of what I thought as I read the text, which basically went, oof, he’s not really that interested, he doesn’t think I’m beautiful, even thought the text started with, “Hey beautiful,” this isn’t going any where and I’m just in from riding my scooter across town, it’s cold I don’t want to bundle back up and head over to Nob Hill where he lived.

So.

Ugh.

I turned him down.

Gorgeous, big brown eyes, beautiful mouth, genius smart, funny, amazing sex.

Did I mention tall?

Because, he’s not really that interested in me, blah, blah, blah, brain, blah, blah, blah.

Side bar.

I spend a lot of time helping client unravel maladaptive thinking, this was such classic maladaptive thinking, ugh.

Anyway.

He spent the night by himself, I left the day after to Burning Man.

Now.

I tell myself stupid ass stories, but I was not a complete idiot, and when I got back from the event, I messaged him.

Second thing that happened.

He met someone else.

He responded, “Hey Gorgeous, glad you made it back, bad good news, I met someone, I think I’m just going to explore connecting with her. I’m really glad we met though, take care.” Or something close to that effect.

Years later, they are happily married, have a child, and are living in a big house with huge yard and two dogs in the Midwest.

He’s put on some weight, the Midwest will do that to you, but he was still handsome, we FaceTimed, funny, and whip smart.

I helped him out with the questions he had for a client and we caught up.

We even did touch on the timing of our original connection.

And it was literally timing.

He ran into his now wife, three times in the same day, it was meant to be.

But there was a little part of me that felt for a good few moments, heartbroken.

How many times have I missed something like this?

Too many I sense.

I asked him if he had known I was going to become a therapist, I couldn’t remember if I had already started my program.

In hindsight, I did realize I had, and that likely played a part in me not wanting to leave my house when had gotten home, I was working full time as a nanny and going to school full time, I was exhausted.

He couldn’t remember, but he said, “Maybe, but I do know that when I left I remember being really excited to have connected with you, the things we talked about, it was profound, I felt like you had healed my soul.”

Do you know that the psycho part of psychotherapist stands for “psyche,” which is Greek for soul?

I mean.

Good grief.

We were a great match.

I got off the call with him and actually did cry a little bit.

There is still a part of me that has grief for not being in a relationship that could have meant having a child, a piece of grief I have done, but it is tender sometimes, and here was this opportunity.

But.

I also knew better than to beat myself up in the moment.

I had to be gentle with that part of me that was just doing what it does, protecting me.

Relationships are dangerous, was what I had intuited growing up, violent, and scary. Plus, add on top of that the sexual violence I experienced as a child, and well, one can see how a part of me might act up to protect me from getting into a romantic relationship.

Part of me has placed blinders on my eyes and told me stories that have kept me out of relationships.

Like the former lover.

I couldn’t see it.

I am seeing things now.

And I don’t regret what happened.

In a different universe, we were together.

Just like some of the other loves I have had that did not go anywhere, romantic love that I had for my first high school crush, the bartender who’s sister was a room mate of mine in Madison, the friend who introduced me to the electronic music scene in San Francisco, my ex.

All men I loved.

Lucky me.

I have known love.

And now.

Now I am ready to experience it in a sustainable way.

So when I tell myself the story, that “he’s just not that interested” I will fact check that.

Because, it’s probably not true.

It’s just a defense to protect myself, but it’s not a defense I want anymore.

It might be scary to let myself be vulnerable and open my eyes and see and be seen.

But I think it might be really wonderful to.

I really do.

Exhausting

Dating apps are exhausting.

Bumble has informed me I have run out of matches, “that’s all for now!” and change your profile filters if you want to find more folks.

Nah.

I’m a bit over it.

Especially as I didn’t match with all that many guys.

And that’s ok.

I have gone back in with a more discriminating eye and frankly if any one even mentions smoking weed, I’m out.

I can handle the occasional cocktail drinker, but the weed just grosses me out.

And I’m pretty set on my age range, five years younger, five years older.

That makes for a nice span.

Except when the person lies.

There are some guys that lie right from the start and put up a fake age so they will pop up in your search and then the first thing they say is, “I lied about my age, I’m really, blah, blah, blah”.

Fuck off.

I didn’t lie about my age.

I’m 49.

You don’t like kicking it with a 49 year old woman I want you to swipe left.

Swipe away motherfucker.

And frankly if you lie about your age, what else are you lying about?

I found out in a recent phone call.

Not to self, gave out my number a little too fast.

I was getting discouraged with all the not matching.

When I did match with a guy and we chatted a bit and then he asked to move to our phones and we texted a bit and then he called.

Holy shit.

I was on the call maybe fifteen minutes.

He did most of the talking.

And he lied about his age.

He wasn’t 44, he is 51.

And he gave some bullshit excuse why he lied and how women don’t want men his age and he’s actually got all this energy and he does’t look 51, blah, blah, blah.

Without letting me get in a word.

I would have told him if he had taken a moment to catch his damn breath, that I was actually more interested in a guy who is 51 versus 44.

See I figure, 44/45’ish with guys, they still might want kids and I’m out of that ball park.

Oh.

The other thing the guy lied about, he has kids.

Two.

And!

He wants more.

I was like, ok, you’re 51 and you want more kids, cool.

But.

Um.

I don’t.

And I said that really clearly, if that’s what you’re looking for, I am the wrong person for you, I don’t want kids.

I nannied for 13 years, I got my fix of babies (I do still miss a warm baby napping on my chest though, so good).

Plus, at 49, do you know what they call that at the hospital?

A geriatric pregnancy.

No thank you.

Dude rolled right over me, oh, you’ll have lots of babies with me (really, cuz I’m not thinking that at all), a whole bunch, you got time, women having babies into their 70s.

Jesus.

I want to retire when I’m 70, not be having a baby.

I repeated myself, nope, no kids, no thanks, you want kids, you better look elswehere.

And he ran me over again and said we’d have loads of kids and more word vomit.

I was like, I need to get the fuck off this call.

Then he asked where I was in San Francisco and he was telling me how well he knew the city and when I said, “Hayes Valley” he had no idea where that is.

Um, ok, I’m sorry, but Hayes is a super popular little hood and most people that “know San Francisco like the back of their hand” know where Hayes Valley is.

But you know.

Fuck, I’m glad he doesn’t know.

Cuz stalker vibe.

And then he told me his last lie, he’d lied about where he lived so that, again, he would get picked up by a wider range of women.

Not cool dude.

I want someone who is geographically desirable.

I don’t want to date a guy in Martinez.

Or where ever the fuck you actually live.

I told him I had to go and I got off the phone real fast and immediately blocked him.

Then I went back on Bumble, messaged him, thanks for the call but I don’t feel a connection, and I unmatched with him.

So imagine my surprise when he sent me a video message the next day.

WTF?!

Then he texted me twice the following day.

Hello, Iphone, it says blocked, why aren’t you blocking?!

Then yesterday while I’m in a client session he calls, now my phone’s off, but I see the call come through, not once, but twice, later when I’m out of the session.

Fuck you Iphone, block this guy.

I google it.

Restart my Iphone, block again.

Nothing today.

So hopefully he’s gone.

So yeah, just yuck.

I matched with four guys.

One responded with all emoji’s.

I didn’t message him back.

Grow the fuck up.

The other was persistent guy who wants me pregnant into my 70s, like who are you, Hugh Hefner?

The other guy was hot and I thought, jackpot, cool, went back into his profile and shit, I saw the red flag, the little marijuana leaf symbol had “frequently” next to it.

I hadn’t caught it on the first round.

So.

I didn’t message frequently smokes pot guy.

Leaving me with one match.

We have a date on Friday.

For tea.

That is hopeful.

I have not expectations at all.

The meeting for tea and/or coffee, the way I look at it, is a dry run for an actual date.

And maybe I go back on Hinge.

Who knows.

But.

I’m out there trying.

But, damn, it is tiring swiping left all the time.

No, nope, nope, cute dog, nope, NO, is that a picture from your wedding? NO. Next, nope, nope, nope, ew, why are you wearing a mask in the photo? We are not socially distancing on the app, I can’t catch COVID through my phone. No, No thank you, yikes, no to you, sir, smoking that fat blunt, no, to you friend–drinking straight from a margarita pitcher, um, no thanks. PLEASE STOP POSTING PICTURES OF THE FISH YOU CAUGHT, or your kids–does the other parent know you’re putting your kids pix on a dating app? No pictures of you and your ex, especially if you “x’ed” out their face, noooo, no to “love to laugh,” who the fuck doesn’t. Me, I hate laughing, next.

Sigh.

Just needed to vent.

I’ll be back out there tomorrow.

Maybe.

It’s Not The App

It’s you.

That is a direct quote.

I was sharing something with my person about the frustrations of online dating and then I said something, for the life of me (unconsciously don’t want to embarrass myself?) I cannot remember exactly what I said, but I basically blamed Tinder for my inability to score a date.

“It’s not the app, it’s you,” she said again.

I know, I know.

Cue a lot of school reading today, a lot of introspection, and a lot of writing.

The normal writing I do, every morning, although I did have a different tack today than typical.

I found myself waking up with my alarm and feeling that instead of taking the time to make breakfast and do my morning pages, the thing to do would be to get up and go right to the yoga class at 9 a.m. instead of the one I had signed up for at 10:30 a.m.

I wasn’t hungry, I had a late snack last night with my tea and I knew that if I did eat breakfast and go to the class I might feel a little bogged down with the oatmeal in my body.

So.

I hopped up, striped my bed–Sunday is bed sheet day, fresh sheets are a must to start off the we–drank some water, brushed my teeth, threw my hair up into a messy bun, re-made my bed with clean sheets, read some stuff, said some stuff, drank a quick shot of iced coffee with unsweetened vanilla almond milk and strolled the 1/2 block to Yoga Beach for the Vinyasa Flow class.

Today was my 9th day of yoga.

I have been going for fifteen days.

Not bad.

And I recognized the yoga instructor!

An acquaintance from the hood who I had no idea worked at the studio.

“I was wondering when I would see you here!” He said with a big smile.

I told him that it was class number 9 and I was pretty into it, although very humbled by the experience.

I have also been enjoying the feeling in my body though, of length, of my core getting stronger, of not losing the bicycle muscle I have in my legs, my hips have been feeling looser, not so tight, and my knees have also felt better.

And yes.

Thank you ego for the reminder.

I’ve lost a little weight.

Not the goal, but a nice side benefit.

Mostly from the exercise I presume, but also I have noticed a distinct tendency to eat even cleaner than I typically do.

Yes, that is kale in my fridge.

The class was good and I actually was able to do one of the poses that the first time I saw it demonstrated I was like, um, no.

Except.

Today.

Well.

I just did it.

It wasn’t a big deal move, I’m not standing on my head or anything, but it was fun to see myself stretch and try for something that just a week ago seemed intimidating and impossible.

Sometimes great change can happen quickly.

I just have to be flexible to the situation when things happen.

I left the studio with an open heart and a great deal of gratitude.

I walked past a huddle of neighbors on a stoop outside smoking cigarettes and lounging in the only real sun the day was to have, with some humor in my heart.

I used to be that girl on the front porch steps smoking cigarettes and hanging with the boys.

Not anymore.

Nope.

Today I was the girl all blissed out with the yoga mat in her bag strolling home to eat a bowl of organic oatmeal and apples with blueberries.

Heh.

“Just getting out of yoga?” One of the guys asked and drew on his cigarette, “down the block, Yoga Beach, right, they just opened, yeah.”

“Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago,” I said and smiled, we all silently acknowledged the humor of the moment, two bros and a gal smoking in the sun, obviously all a touch hung over.

“Gotta check that out, you know, soon, ease it in the schedule,” he smiled.

I patted the dog lolling in front of the stoop, “you should, it’s great,” and I walked home happy and a tiny bit incredulous to be this woman who gets up and goes to yoga before eating a healthy breakfast and doing fabulous self-care.

Said self-care meant also not re-employing the dating app on my phone.

This is not to say that I might not or that I may not go back to OkCupid.

I had a really enlightening day about it yesterday from not just my person’s viewpoint, but also from another woman.

Ironically, the woman who saw me walk down to cafe.

They both intimated that it was a job, it would take work, that it would not be without effort and I realized how much I had expected, in some odd ball kind of way, without really realizing it, that I wanted fairy tale pixie dust magic with the damn thing.

Instantaneous gratification.

Which on one hand there is the illusion there to it.

But.

On the other.

It’s not the app, it’s me.

Cue all the reading for school and the paper I wrote, second one in the weekend!

I realized some things, other than some discomfort to see that I was great at dating narcissists, border line personalities, and where I had negative counter transference in a variety of work and personal relationships.

Yeesh.

It was intense to read it and also to know that knowledge of self does not always avail me.

But taking different actions certainly does.

So when I wanted to use the app I did not re-install it, because it would have been avoidance of doing the school work that I needed to do–checking out through fantasy.

However.

I also see the benefits of trying again.

Pick myself up and try again.

The change is not the app, the change is me.

How I see the world, how I operate, how I move in it.

And learn, accept, forgive, and grow.

I don’t know that I’m going to find true love on Tinder or Match.com or OKCupid or Bumble or Hinge or Facebook or Myspace.

Ok.

That last one might have been reaching, but I think you understand the gist.

That being said.

I won’t also find it if I don’t try.

Those things worth having are worth working for.

I am not afraid of the work.

And I’m not too busy to do it.

When I say I’m too busy, that’s me pushing you out of my life.

I can, however, know what my needs are and if I need to study I can refrain from engaging with the dating, but if I need to have some fun and try getting out of my comfort zone.

Well.

I’m going to damn it.

Because I’m worth it and I deserve to be happy.

No man will ever complete me, but I do believe that some one may well be my companion and my compliment.

That is something to strive for.

And to continue to lighten up.

Take it easy.

And laugh at myself.

There’s a good few chuckles in there to be had.

Seriously.

More than a few.

Heh.

Woman Of The World

That’s what I’m thinking of re-titling my blog page.

I will probably always be a “girl on the go” in my heart, I feel like a girl most times, sometimes a small girl, sometimes an adolescent, but more and more, I feel like I am a woman.

Only took 42 years to get here.

Maybe it has something to do with not reaching out to men that don’t serve me well any more.

My father

My ex boyfriend.

The old ex boyfriend.

The lover.

The other lover.

The one that could have been a lover, but never was.

The old friend, yeah that one, who was never in my heart an old friend, but a sort of I wish it could be, why isn’t it, maybe it will be someday.

Or perhaps it has something to do with saving my money to buy the thing that I know I am going to be using a lot of very soon–my new MacBookAir.

I am in fact, writing this blog on my old computer and I am wee bit astounded that I am able to, although, it is not the same as it was.  There are glitches.  I for instance, can’t see what I am writing as I am writing.  The program is not translating the way it should.  I actually have to scroll down, after every line.  Good thing I’m aces at typing, but it is disconcerting.

It is almost like using a manual typewriter.  Last night this was not the case, but tonight, so it goes.  At least I am able to use the computer.

I also can’t tell how many words this is.  The word count is disabled.

I know all the kinks will get worked out and I will have a new computer to write with and internet with and do things with and all that stuff.

Wait.

I mean all the things!

Yes, all those things.

Like growing up and paying my health insurance as soon as I get it in the mail.

Oh yeah, I just did that.

And it was that last action that made me think, you know, you’re a grown up.

The little girl, she is still there, the young woman is there too, that angst filled teenager with her desires to dance with somebody who loves me.

Heh.

I guess I just dated myself there a little bit.

All those sad, lonely nights, fantasizing and dreaming and wondering about what life would be when I grew up.

I was not expecting this, but tell you what, this is real good.

March has been full and replete and astounding in its way.

When I think about all the things that have happened and all the good that has come my way, it is no surprise to me that I am a “woman of the world.”

I got into graduate school, having made the decision to become a therapist, sticking with the intuition and the guidance and the suggestions given me, really following through, applying, and getting in.

Then securing my place in the cohort by depositing money to hold my spot and to accept that I was accepted.

What else?

Getting of my duff and buying a ticket to visit my grandmother in Chula Vista.

This feels very grown up, making plans to see family and to stay connected.

What else shows me a woman?

Asking for a job review, getting a great performance review, asking for vacation time when I want it, getting to go to Burning Man.

Oh yeah, that is a womanly thing to do.

The figure-head of Burning Man is a man, we all know that, but when I think of all the women that make that organization go, well, I am proud to be a part, albeit a small part, but a part nonetheless, of the matriarchy.

Then there is the taking care of myself, the food, taking an iron supplement again, getting my knees checked out, having my skin looked at, the hydrocortizone, fyi, is totally working.

And finally, getting off the social media dating kick.

That feels very grown up.

Not succumbing to the cave man interactions of texting and Tindering and checking you out on Hinge and swiping left, right, upside down, inside out, over and under.

Making the decision to allow myself to be pursued and in the meantime, actively pursue my life, regardless of dating or not dating.

I believe that I will always be a free spirit, young at heart, a girl on the go, for certs dude.

However, as I have more than one purse now, helps balance me out after using a messenger bag all week-long, I think it is accurate to say, the lady is all grown up.

Oh, don’t worry, I’m still a pile of glitter and longing.

But I think I may be able to assimilate it into my grown up world.

There’s room for all the facets of me.

I am a brilliant diamond.

With many wonderous sides to me.

The glitter just makes it sparkle all a tiny bit more.

And who doesn’t like a little glitter now and then?

Connection

That is what I crave.

I was thinking about that today as I walked along the beach.

I had just gotten off the phone with my little sister.

She may be 40, but she’s still my little sister.

I had been thinking about her and I realized, you know, why not give a call?

We had a half hour conversation and without me even realizing it I had walked from the Judah entrance on Ocean Beach to Sloat.

It was a nice walk back.

One in which I ran into a couple other people I knew.

We exchanged hugs and pleasantries, then parted.

Father and daughter walking the beach at low tide.

Before I had even made it down to the beach I ran into a fellow walking up Judah to Trouble.  He and his friend had just been down at the beach as well.

“Neighbor!” He smiled and we hugged.

It’s nice to be known.

It’s nice to be seen.

And with these thoughts in my mind I signed out of OKCupid tonight.

I have not eradicated my profile, but I am offline with it for a while.

“I realized,” I said to her while explaining my experience, strength, and hope, hopefully, “that I long for someone to travel with, to have adventures with, to go to Burning Man with.”

Which for me, means traveling, having adventures, and going to Burning Man.

I love to travel and I love adventures and I am down for camping in the heat and dust, as long as there’s loads of love and light and art, please, oh pretty please, give me some art.

I want to live as full and rich a life as possible.

And though a good part of that life is documented here, not all of it is and when I find myself not connecting on OkCupid, or Tinder, or Hinge, when the emoticon becomes the template for my communication with another human being, it’s time to scale back.

I don’t care for texting.

It’s emotional shorthand.

It’s cave man communication.

And it’s too easy to read all sorts of things into it.

I want to actually talk on the phone, I know that’s even becoming outmoded in the land of looking at our phone screens.

Sometimes I wonder if folks are going to actually stop using their phones and just text and facetime and spout emoji’s on one another.

I need contact.

I need touch.

I need to hear the emotions in a person’s voice.

I am not saying I am lonely.

Far from it.

I am fabulous company.

I spent my afternoon after doing the deal with a lady at the kitchen table, cooking homemade chili, and hanging in the back yard, watching the ravens swoop and the cats lazy, prowl the roof tops for the warmest patch of sun.

I looked at the yellow flowers in the weeds and marveled at the wild geranium, soft lilac with splotches of deep red and violet on its petals, careen toward the sun.

I closed my eyes and turned my face toward the sun as well.

Don’t worry I had my 45 sunblock slathered on.

I, like a cat, love the warmth of the sun though.

I drank sparkling water and ate large kale salads.

I read a Vanity Fair.

I read my book.

I made some phone calls and left some messages.

I thought about connection and how I want to connect with the world.

I thought about dating and realized that the action is to not pursue.

Rather to be pursued.

I like being courted.

I need to let that happen.

I reflected on the best parts of my time with my ex boyfriend and realized that it was all before we had sex.

The feeling of holding hands, sitting next to one another, the building up of emotions.

That I want to have more of.

I am not saying sex is off the table.

I am saying, though, that when I am at my absolute rock bottom honest, I want more and that more has to do with emotional intimacy.

I’m not trying to figure anything out.

I’m not sick of dating.

I am, however, sick of trying to figure it out.

Thus.

I say I stop.

I signed out of OkCupid and I don’t know when or if I will sign back in.

I want to be signed into my life.

“I’m really glad you’re getting your knees checked out,” my dear friend told me yesterday as we wandered around Alcatraz.

Holding hands, at that!

I think about some of the nicest hand holding and it’s been with her and my best friend back in Wisconsin.

Whom I am contemplating going to see and when that might fit into my busy life.

Christmas?

I know, it’s March.

But after having just sent my employers my official time off requests for going to Chula Vista to see my grandmother, then the time for my graduate school retreat, and the week of Burning Man, I realized I may not have time to do any other travel until late fall/winter.

And I’m not even including when I go to Atlanta in July–I don’t have to ask off for that time, it’s 4th of July weekend, so I’m off already.

My friend continued, holding my hand as the crowds pushed ahead of us, “you should do couples dancing, I think you would have fun and meet people.”

That sounds nice.

Meeting people in person.

Engaging face to face.

Human being to human being.

Maybe I’m old-fashioned and I should really re-think staying on all the sites and things and doings.

But.

Despite wanting All The Things.

I don’t believe that I will find them there.

I am more than a sound bite.

Hell, I am more than this blog.

How could I expect anyone to get a grasp of me via a text or a tweet or a post?

I want to get to know you.

Face to face.

Not facebook to facebook.

I know you’re out there.

I am ready when you are.

Let’s go explore this great big amazing world together.

Hand in hand.