Snapshot of June

I noticed I missed doing a Snapshot of May. I have to try harder to keep up on this blog.

In homage to Sarah H. at Death Wears Diamond Jewelry, who is no longer blogging but is missed.

Listening…Podcasts like The Rewatcher: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. These are the same women who do Morbid. It is funny to listen to them dissect the episodes.

Reading…No new books

Watching…I watched the last three seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD. Now I am working on Angel.

Playing … I have been playing Wordscapes on my phone (still).

Building... I haven't built anything substantial lately. I did get my models ready for a small show next month.

Buying… I haven't bought much interesting stuff lately. 

Loving... Too few things these days.

Planning… My vacation day for the rest of the year. I have more days of vacation than I have plans.

Missing… A connection with someone.

Bay-O-Rama

After a week of work, I swung by Gia's Airbnb in Ferndale on Friday evening. She greeted me in peach-colored exercise shorts, a grey spaghetti-strap tank top, and a stylish black and grey cap. We headed back to my condo so I could change while Gia relaxed on the couch, engrossed in her phone.

Once ready, we hopped into my Gladiator and set off for New Baltimore. I had promised to take her to Bay-O-Rama, the local festival. The sun was blazing as we arrived, the air thick with humidity, though the forecast hinted at an impending downpour.

Downtown New Baltimore hosted Bay-O-Rama, a modest affair with carnival rides, games, a beer tent, and various booths. Gia was up for anything; her adventurous spirit was evident as we explored the carnival attractions. We even tried our hand at a balloon-popping game and scored a small stuffed lion as a prize. Gia couldn't resist getting a caricature sketch done of herself.

As the sky darkened and raindrops began to fall, we sought refuge at Finn's Restaurant, sitting comfortably under the awning of the upstairs patio bar. The downpour arrived in full force just as our food was served. While most patrons scurried indoors for shelter, Gia and I stayed put, relishing the dramatic weather and our delicious meal.

Returning to the Gladiator under a gentle drizzle, we made our way back to my condo, both of us smiling despite being slightly damp. Gia was a joy to be around—considerate, affectionate, yet emotionally distant in bed. I found myself pondering why I was drawn to someone seemingly unattainable. It's funny how when you're infatuated, you tend to see the best in someone, even if reality might be more complex.

Gia possesses many appealing qualities, and I'm drawn to her physically. She has a radiant smile. While I don't see her as someone suited for a long-term relationship, she would make an excellent companion for short-term adventures, provided she's open to it. So far, she is not.

Gia left for home Monday night, feeling homesick and mentally drained despite her efforts to stay until the end of the month. I'm uncertain when or if she'll return; perhaps not until September, if at all. Despite Gia not being what I'm actively seeking, I find it difficult to let go, perhaps because no one else fits the mold.

Not Enough Glue

 Gia has a captivating smile. When she truly smiles, her eyes sparkle, the years fall from her face, and she has a youthful innocence. Gia has been in Michigan for a month and is getting homesick. As the weather shifts to summer, the club is slowing down.

Gia: I may leave sooner. Work is getting annoying. A lot of cheap dudes, and I'm tired of spending money on a rental car. 

Bathwater: How soon are you thinking?

Gia: I don't know. Pretty soon, honestly. I'll see how tonight goes. Maybe next time, I'll only get an Airbnb for two weeks, not a whole month.

Bathwater: I figured it would slow down once the weather kicked in. Today is Father's Day.

Gia: You were right. I forgot it is Father's Day :(.

Bathwater: Do you want me to come down and keep you company for a bit?

Gia: It's up to you. That's a far drive.

I drove across town to the club. An accident caused the fifty-minute drive to take an extra twenty-five minutes. I arrived at eight forty-five. It was the first time I had been to the club since April. Gia and I have been seeing each other outside the club on Fridays. 

There were more dancers than customers. I got a booth, and Gia and I camped out for most of the night between her trips to the stage. She tried approaching a few other customers without luck. 

"You have come a long way since we first met. You are less stubborn," I tell her.

Gia and I are sitting in the booth. Gia is wearing an orange micro bikini. Her legs are stretched out across my lap. 

"I have been working on that with you," she tells me. 

I wish there was more of a connection between Gia and me. There are so many differences, and there is not enough glue. 

Not The Nail

 I don't know why I haven't been taking the time to write more. Many things go by without me recording them here. I find it hard to recreate the events in a narrative that pleases me. This is ironic considering all the tools we have today to improve our writing. 

I have been communicating very little with anyone lately. I told Gia I reached out to her more than anyone else, which surprised her, considering we don't text much. 

Brit sits across from me on the couch. She is talking to me about her relationship with the guy from California. They met on Instagram. Brit flew out to see him. This guy lives with two roommates, both women. One was supposed to be his cousin, but Brit never sees this cousin and isn't sure she even exists. 

The red flags continue to pile up. First, the guy says he is in his low forties. It turns out he is fifty. He has five kids by three women that he never mentioned to her. He is a graffiti artist and likes to tag trains—at fifty?

The conversations she tells me are him gaslighting her. Brit is a psychology major. It is the classic case of a person with mental issues seeking answers. Brit is visibly upset over this guy. I wanted to tell her he sounded like a big loser who would not bring her happiness, but you can't fight emotion with logic. The whole conversation reminds me of the YouTube short  It's Not About The Nail.

I shut down the conversation by leading Brit upstairs.