Why Does this Make Me so Nervous?

Don't worry I'm not looking at you
Gorgeous and dressed in blue
Don't worry I'm not looking at you
I know you see me see you
As you see me walk on past
When there's nothing more I'd like to do
Than come in close and hear you laugh
Though we haven't even spoken
Still I sense there's a rapport
So whisper me your number
I'll call you up at home

Well, I might have a date soon. We didn't meet in quite the way Morphine describes it, but we did meet in a very iconic single person way.

At a dinner party. And it wasn't quite as electric as Mark Sandman describes it either, but I'm a strong believer in trying things on.

My friend David invited me to a dinner party at his and his wife's house Saturday night. It was a little bit out of the blue, but not uncommon for this particular friend. There were four other people there: one married couple and two single men. Hmmm....You reckon there was some conniving going on there? The married couple was great fun and I really liked them. The husband was rather quiet, but then everyone is quiet when David is around because he's definitely an entertainer and that's one of the reasons we love him. In any case, one of the single men was rather younger, and painfully quiet. Seemed like a nice guy, though and smart when he did speak.

The other single man was...well...intriguing I guess is the word. He was kind of quiet too, but he spoke a good bit and popped a few witty remarks. The thing that was interesting was his manner. He was inordinately polite. He shook hands when he was introduced, and kind of had this bearing of one of Jane Austen's gentlemen. The thing that bugged me about this was his handshake - it was very weak, and I always look upon someone with a weak handshake with incredulity until they prove themselves. Maybe it was part of his politeness though. I wondered if he just felt like women should receive less firm handshakes because we're...well...women. Incidentally, I would like it if the males who read my blog would comment on this, because I'm just not sure. All I know is if he shook my Daddy's hand like that, Daddy would immediately be distrustful.

I digress. I also noticed a few other eccentricities. When I mentioned a bad experience I had (bad, not embarrassing), he wore this odd look of concern or...confusion...or something. It was weird. He had interesting facial expressions - and Fabio hair. Fortuneately his hair was the only thing Fabio-esque and only because it was long and blond. A major bonus point in his favor was that he had seen and liked my favorite local bluegrass band, The Groundhawgs (more plugging). And he has a decent job. Imagine that.

In any case, I sensed all night that this odd fellow was kind of...well...what's a distinguished way to put it...um...oh, nevermind...he was kind of macking on me. And my suspicions were confirmed when David called me last night to tell me that Dude was asking about me and wanted to know if I was single. I told David he could give Dude my phone number and we'll see what happens.

I'm not sure about this guy. I'm sure he's not psychotic or evil or even abusive, but I still don't quite know if I like him. Of course, that's what first dates are for. He hasn't called me yet, but I suspect I'll hear from him sometime this week. Anyway, to use one of my favorite phrases again, we'll see.



I'm posting this video here because I feel like I need to give Kevn Kinney his propers. Here's "Sun Tangled Angel Revival." I love this song.

The "Thing"

We sat grown quiet at the name of love;
We saw the last embers of daylight die,
And in the trembling blue-green of the sky
A moon, worn as if it had been a shell
Washed by time's waters as they rose and fell
About the stars and broke in days and years.
I had a thought for no one's but your ears:
That you were beautiful, and that I strove
To love you in the old high way of love;
That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown
As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.
from "Adam's Curse" by William Butler Yeats


I’ve been doing a bit of thinking on the subject of the “thing.” The “thing” that I’m speaking of is an ambiguity that is rather difficult to define. It’s a feeling toward someone else. In my case(s) they have all been toward the opposite sex and have smacked of amorous connection. It’s a sort of intuitive sense of knowing someone so profoundly, that it may not even be the outward version of this person. It’s more a sense about the inward version. And it’s a gravitational pull that draws your inward version to their inward version. Does this make any sense?

I’ve experienced this with four different men, and not once has it lead to anything very far beyond friendship (well, not yet). But I’ve learned a lot about myself and human nature through these odd communions. And I cherish my time with these men because I’ve always had an easy rapport and really, really interesting and deep conversations with them. All four of them have left pieces of themselves in the characters I’ve created for my novels.

The first “thing” man I met was a good friend in high school. We even dated for a very little while. We always shared some truly witty and fun banter, but we also confided in each other and took what the other said to heart. In essentials, we’re very much alike. We always understood each other and could have conversations without saying a word. And when he was suffering or angry or upset, I always felt it too – beyond sympathy. I’ve begun to feel that we have very similar souls (if you believe in that sort of thing).

The second of these enigmatically understandable men was also someone I dated for a very little while in high school. We were so different that we understood each other. It was more than an opposites attract kind of thing: it was more like we came full circle around each other and bumped into each other again on the other side. We were masters of the witty and entertaining banter. With him I could always exercise my latent blatant side. I could be downright blunt with him, and he with me. We were the moderates on opposite sides of a debate.

Number three was someone I met in college. The first time I saw him striding arrogantly across the dining hall, verses started flooding my brain. For one thing, he was beautiful. I mean a BEAUTIFUL man. Half Cherokee, long curly hair, painfully incisive gray eyes, tall, built like his native ancestors. Good God. It’s the first time I actually felt a rush of temperature just by looking at someone. For a while, I just watched and observed. He intrigued me. The first time we actually spoke was in a mutual friend’s dorm room. He made fun of my Southern accent as so many of my Atlanta-bred classmates did, but he teased in his own rather thick Northeast Georgia mountain accent. And he was a poet. A remarkable poet whose work really moved me. We didn’t actually talk too much in the traditional sense, but we communicated through writing and moments of drunken inhibition. He saw the woman I could become and I saw the man he could become. He was a rogue, but I was madly in love with him of course. He had issues. I had none. But I always sensed a goodness in him that was more powerful than his misbehavior. He hid this goodness so well that not many people liked him. In recent years, I’ve discovered (indirectly) that I was right about him all along, because he doesn’t hide his goodness anymore. I still write poems and have dreams about him. You could say he was my first real muse.

The final and most recent “thing” man is someone I’ve known my entire life and have always liked and respected. We met for the first time as adults maybe three or four years ago at a bar. We had a brief conversation, and didn’t really see much of each other. About a year and a half ago, I got a call from him completely out of the blue. He was teaching a college course and seeking some creative advice. From then on, he would call me every once in a while, usually at about three in the morning, and we’d end up talking for hours and hours. He invited me to continue the conversation at his house twice (six months apart), and both times we ended up in lip lock. We are more outwardly similar than any of the other “thing” men. As a friend said, we’re headed to the same place in separate cars. We love the same things, we have the same kind of thoughts, and I’ve begun to think that I may have a calming effect on his profoundly A.D.D. mind. I still don’t know what’s going on there, and frankly I’m getting a bit annoyed at myself for wondering.

Lately, I’ve been in contact with the first and the last of these “thing” men more than ever before. Probably the two men with whom this “thing” has been the deepest and the most latent. Odd how that happens. Now granted, this could all be in my head, but I don’t think so. I honestly don’t think so although I must allow that it could possibly be a projection of my respect and curiosity onto them. I just wonder if they consider me one of their “thing” women. And I wonder if either of these “things” might evolve. My money’s on one more than the other. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that I might prefer that particular “thing.” The question is which “thing” should I take the most stock in? Which is more real, more tangible?

And I’d also like to pose the question: Do y’all have “thing” men or women, or is this a creation of my sometimes overly active imagination?


A song that for some reason makes me think of all of my "thing" men. This is the Volebeats doing "Somewhere in My Heart"