Archieves

As promised, I quickly pulled a few posts from the archives. I still think I wrote better back then.

Ouch!
Originally Posted September 13, 2007

Last night I went to pick up the boys from their mom's house. Max was last to the car--as always. He walked over to the truck with the hood up, hiding his face. Here is the reason.

Apparently, he wiped out on his rollerblades. My first thoughts were, ouch, boys will be boys, and god, I hope that doesn't scar.

*     *     *

It did not scar. Can you believe the big blue eyes on that kid?

What Is Sexy

Originally Posted, September 24, 2007

Well, what is sexy to you then?" She asks. "Go! Write it for me!"

An easy question. I think she just wants to get off on my words.

Sexy is all in the mind. It's the look that says she knows what you are thinking and the smirk that says-- she likes it.

It's the lingering sigh after a kiss; the prolonged gaze that makes you shiver; the darting tongue that leaves you wanting more.

It's the scent inhaled from the nape of the neck; the touch that raises the hairs on your skin; the promise whispered in your ear.

It's arched backs, open lips, and doe eyes. It's the silhouette in the dark; the memory that never fades; the voice in your mind.

It's desire restrained; vulnerable innocence; freedom-- bordering on narcissism.

It's all in the mind.

*     *     *

This post was so long ago I cannot remember who asked me the question. I still had a romantic streak in me back then. 

Rewind to Present

Originally Posted, June 21, 2010

I'm dodging through evening traffic on my way to meet Milla. I have my phone in my lap. I am still thirty minutes away from the restaurant when I get a text message. I figure it is Milla texting, letting me know she will be late. It's Rose instead, the same Rose who stood me up for Stone Temple Pilots.

Rose: Hey, what's up?

I stare at the phone, wondering if this is some kind of test. Milla knows Rose. Is she having Rose text me to see if I will reply, and if so, what will I say? My state has banned texting and driving, a law I have failed to embrace yet. Ignoring Rose is also something I have failed to embrace.

Bathwater: Hey gorgeous, I've been meaning to come to see you.

Rose: I thought maybe we could hang out sometime before work.

Bathwater: Seriously? Why have you bumped your head or something?

Rose: lol, no!

I left the conversation hanging, afraid that my words were being reported back to Milla and that anything I said to Rose would be used against me. I was being paranoid, but you never know. Milla had quit working at the club two weeks prior. The girls don't talk outside the club.

After my meal with Milla ends abruptly shorter than anticipated, I'm left dodging traffic again. I text Rose.

Bathwater: I'll see you tomorrow night. We'll talk.

The next night I pull out the same shirt, freshly washed and pressed. I wasn't going to let a new shirt go to waste after all. I got to the club late. It was a cool evening for summer. I was moving slowly, and I almost backed out. I sat in a far booth, and immediately Lydia, one of the shot girls, came over to sit with me. I like Lydia. She isn't pushy. She is a cute petite blond, too young to drink but pushing the shots two nights a week and drinking anyway.

Rose sits with us, and the three of us do a few shots. We start discussing my new shirt. Lydia is a fan of Buckle, also. She loves the Buckle style on a guy, she says; I begin to think I'm hitting on the wrong girl I've got Lydia all sewn up...but I like Rose.

An obnoxious group of young want-a-be-players takes the corner booth next to mine. They buy a bottle of booze, try to smoke despite the ban on smoking in public places in our state, and stop every girl that walks by without actually spending any money. They are almost enough to spoil the evening by hanging out of their booth and blocking traffic. After a couple hours, though, they figure out they aren't going to get any free entertainment.

The "players" file out. We break from our conversation to watch them depart. One guy looks over at me, and we lock eyes for a moment. The back corner where we are is cold; I have my left arm wrapped around Rose and my right wrapped around Lydia. The same two girls have been at my table most of the evening. They are snuggled in close. He gives me a puzzled glance, "because you're an asshole." I say to myself and turn back to our conversation.

I take Rose upstairs to dance for me, and we talk. We make plans to go out on her day off, which is Friday. I agree and tell her she won't regret it. I feel her cancellations have more to do with fear and circumstance than her hustling me.

*     *     *

I don't think this one made it into the book. It did not propel the narrative, and I needed to make some cuts.