North Lake

I am on vacation this week.  Saturday Alexis, Sam and Sam's boyfriend went to Alexis' cottage in Lapeer, Michigan.   It is a little over an hour north of me.  The cottage is on a small lake.  I got to kayak a few times over the weekend.  The others mostly drank.  It was an okay weekend.  Perhaps I will fill in the details later.  I am having a hard time writing anything today.

The lake is beautiful in the morning.  The water is like glass and it is quiet.

A Firefly

There is a third girl I meet on Seeking Arrangement (SA).  I have not spoken about her up until now and when I tell you about her you will know why. Firefly, as I will call her, is a petite red head.  She has a cute little figure that girls only have when they are young.  Firefly has this childlike energy about her, that I feed upon.  She reminds me of Billy, I think the Psychic had them confused, when she said, "I don't see her ever going away (perhaps she meant it metaphorically).

Firefly has the same bad habit as Billy.  She is an addict.  I saw the signs right away.  "After you told me about your ex, I know I wasn't going to be able to hide it from you", she said to me early on.

I told here, "I've been down this road before.  I am not getting sucked down it again."

"I understand." She replies, sheepishly but a mischievous grin never leaves her face. Sex with Firefly is fun and exciting.  There is something about her I find very attractive.  It is more than her superficial similarities to Billy.

We spent a lot of time together last month, she was struggling to get by and waiting for an opening in rehab facility.  I don't understand my appeal to these young girls.  It goes beyond the financial. I see it in the way they hang out with me.  I see it in their reluctance to leave.  I see it in Firefly, and I see it in Bunny.  The mutually beneficial nature of the relationship keeps things easier to understand. I don't want to fall in love.  I just want someone to have fun with.

 "If you don't get in soon, I am cutting you off," I told Firefly.  She waited over a week for an opening.  Then on a Sunday, unexpectedly, she got the call from the rehab facility and she was gone.  I expected to get a text from Firefly telling me she bailed from the place a day or two later but it never came.  Quitting opiods is not easy. You have to want it.

Yesterday she reappeared.  It has been ten days.  She looks healthier.  She is transferring from the short term facility and into a long term program. She will only be out for a week. The long term program will last anywhere from thirty days to a year.  It is something I wish Billy would have done.  Firefly is only twenty.  She does not have that hollow look to her face that comes from years of drug use.  That look was taking over Billy's pretty face..

 "Take your time.  There is nothing going on out here," I say, waving my hand about indicating this virus plagued world.  She gives me a hug before leaving through the garage.  "I am proud of you," I tell her as she retreats into the night.

A Call from Tinkerbell

Yesterday I spent my time between working and reading old posts.  There is a lot of reading involved in figuring out which to put into my memoir and crafting a cohesive story from them.  The past is hard to read sometimes but to put a positive perspective on it, I know I would not act the same way again.  Still, I would not have the memories I have today if I hadn't gone through those things.  I have no regrets.

Tinkerbell called me on my drive home.  She was driving home also.  It brightened my day just to hear her voice.

"Two of my four children wished me a happy father's day," I said to her jokingly.  Tinkerbell is not my forth child, but she is not far from being it either.

"Very funny. Sorry about that. It was a awkward father's day here," she says to me, then goes on to tell me her struggles with trying to get the T-Rex (her teenage son) to call his father and to get him to acknowledge Tinkerbell's current boyfriend who is taking on a parenting role.

As always, I understand both side of the situation.  I understand why Tinkerbell tries to instill these things in her son and I also get the T-Rex's reluctance.  The T-Rex has had several male figures in his life, myself included but I am sure his father's lack of interest in being a parent is hard for him.

We spoke for twenty minutes.  The time went by quickly.  Our conversations are always laced with humor.  In the last fifteen years, I have probably spent more time talking to Tinkerbell on the phone than anyone else, including Billy.

Tinkerbell asked if I had heard from Billy.  I told her I didn't see a reason to reach out to Billy.  Tink thought that was true.  I miss Billy.  Anyone who reads my blog already knows that, but I know right now there is nothing to gain from communicating with her.

Some may question why I am writing a memoir about the last fifteen years of my life if Billy plays such a significant part of that story.  My answer would be, because it is a good story.  It is the kind of tale I picture being made into a TV series on HBO.  It has all the necessary plot points: sex, drugs, a love triangle and an over all arch of redemption.

Hello. How are you?
Have you been alright through all those lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely nights?
That's what I'd say.
I'd tell you everything, if you'd pick up that telephone. Telephone Line, ELO

Best of: Saturday Night

My youngest son came over Sunday.  We ate pizza and watched episodes of Space Force on Netflix.  He is twenty-one and is planning on going away to college next year.  He wants to go to Northern Michigan University in Marquette seven hours away. 

I do not remember much from my childhood.  I wonder what he remember.  There are times I documented.  Once I get done working on my memoir I am going to put together a collection of the posts from the past for him.  This is one.

Originally Posted: Monday, December 19, 2005
Saturday

It is past midnight. I sit on the floor in my kid's room reading "The Historian" by the glow of the bathroom light. The novel is a Da Vinci Code like search for Dracula. My youngest is sick. His stomach hurts. He has already thrown-up once. My time is divided between comforting him and trying to allow him to sleep. There is nothing more I can do for him. I have already plied him with the proper medications.

"When will it stop hurting?" He moans.

"I don't know honey."

"I think I have to throw-up again." He scrambles out of bed and kneels before the toilet. He begins a series of retching that turns my stomach and squeezes my heart. When he finishes, I hand him a glass of water, so he can rinse his mouth. I regard him closely, his smooth face is pale, his lips bright red, like the vampires of my book I absently think.

"Does your stomach feel better?"

His blue eyes peer at me from beneath his long brown bangs, they are large eyes with thick lashes, they stand out against the whiteness of his skin. He swallows hard and shakes his head no. At six years old, he is straddling the gap between being the baby of the family and a young boy. He doesn't whine, instead he handles the stomach ache with a calm maturity beyond his age.

I call him to me and hold him in my lap. We wait out the pain together. After a while I lay him in his bed and retreat to my own room. I finish the last few pages of my book. The story is long, the authors prose moves along slowly with just enough intrigue to keep me reading. In the morning, I find my youngest next to me. His stomach ache is gone. I feel his forehead. He has a slight fever but he is in cheerful spirits. I get him some Moltrin, argue briefly with him to take it, then we sleep some more, me aware that these times will soon be gone.

Barely Breathing

I know what you're doing

I see it all too clear

I only taste the saline

When I kiss away your tears

You really had me going

Wishing on a star

The black holes that surround you

Are heavier by far

I am not making progress.  I could blame it on what is going on in the world but I am not sure that is entirely the case.  I am banging my head against a wall.  I repeat bad habits expecting the outcome to be different and I get depressed when things turn out the same.

Billy is never far from my mind.  She is this construct that I gauge everyone I meet against.  I am not she would measure up to the person in my mind.  If I found this person, the one who soothed all my issues, this perfect match for the imperfection that is me, she would be exactly the wrong person for me.  I know this but I have a hard time accepting it.  

Billy used to say, when she wasn't using she didn't feel like herself.  I understand what she means.  When she is not using she IS herself and that person is a stranger to her.  I am a stranger to myself.  

We spend our lives constructing the world around us to make us comfortable instead of deconstructing what is that makes us need to protect ourselves.  I get the concept and yet I find it extremely hard to practice in this world.

So disappointed follows disappointed,  I keep looking for a quick fix instead of accepting the way things are, because I do not find joy in the way things are.   I would not find joy in the past but I cannot stop thinking about. 

I could stand here waiting

A fool for another day

I don't suppose it's worth the price

It's worth the price, the price

That I would pay, yeah yeah, yeah

But I'm thinking it over anyway

I'm thinking it over anyway... Barely Breathing, Duncan Shiek

Bunny

Friday the skies were clear but the temperatures remained cool.   I put the top and doors on the Jeep and headed over to a local outdoor mall to meet with a potential replacement for the Gymnast.  I have decide to call her Bunny.  The name has some significance to her.  She used the word as part of her user name and I noticed it was spelled out in the little plastic beads of a bracelet she wore.

Bunny: I don't know if I told you this already, but I will be in cozy clothes nothing fancy.

Bathwater:  Me too.  I am not a fancy guy.  I prefer jeans and tees.  I drive a Jeep not a Lexus.

Bunny:  Haha, nice.  Perfect, I love that.

I made it to the mall early.  She texted me while I was still sitting in my car. 

Bunny: Hello, are you here yet?

Bathwater: I am in the parking lot. 

Bunny:  Me too!  I just got here.

Bathwater: I am heading to the fireplace.

Bunny: What are you wearing?

Bathwater:  Jeans and a blue tee.

I sat down on the ledge of the outdoor fireplace and scanned the crowd.  Some wore masks, some did not.  I was not wearing a mask but I had one around my wrist  in case we decided to enter any of the stores.  Bunny waved to me as she walked up. 

Bunny says she is twenty-two.  She has naturally curly shoulder length brown hair.  She wore a red and white fisherman's bucket hat, a matching red and white long sleeve sweater and light blue mom jeans.  When she sat next to me I noticed rainbow colored socks with the words "Fuck off" printed on them sticking out of her high top white Chuck Taylors.

"I would not have pegged you for having a sleeve," she begins the conversation with.

"No?  It is in the pictures. I have a lot of tattoos.  My back is covered in a similar angels and demons theme," I tell her lifting up my shirt a bit so she can see.  She approves, and that starts us on a discussion about tattoos.  She does not have any but wants one.  She feels society is still not accepting enough of them.

Later I would describe her to Tinkerbell and her boyfriend as coming across as a bit intense.  She has serious nature about her, but she also has an infectious smile.  Bunny is not afraid to discuss the topics most people say away from, religion, politics, and the protests. 

She lives close to me.  I'd say very close.  We shop at the same local grocery store and she works a mile from the condo.  That is a plus.  She is tall, 5' 8", I told her she would be taller than me if she wore heels. she assures me she does not.  I find her typical of the girls her age I meet.  She is sensible and not caught up in the fast fashion we see all around us.

It was early evening but it was chilly beneath the shade of the fireplace.  I suggested we walk a bit in the sun while we continued our conversation.  In total we were together for two hours.  "You are refreshing," I tell her.  "To be honest I came here reluctantly.  I have meet a few disappointments." She understands and tells me about a few of her bizarre encounters. 

We get along mentally.  I hope there is a sexual connection.  I was with her for two hours and I cannot describe her figure to you.  She hides it. None of her pictures are revealing. I think that is on purpose, though I am not sure of the reason.  On the site she called herself curvy.  In my experience that means a few extra pounds but Bunny does not seem fit that description.

We are meeting again this Wednesday.  I am intrigued and a little hopeful that I have found someone to spend a few of these summer days with.

To Illustrate My Point

Something I stumbled on that illustrates the point in my last post.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wAIP6fI0NAI