Date Damsel. (Prosery)

January, the transitional girlfriend of the calendar. Not like the other months. Her personality a mix of closing a door and lighting a bonfire; bittersweet memory and new imaginings. You meet her and instantly you're comfortable--she's a bit of extended December. She is the palate cleanser, the slate-cleaner she looks the other way and has... Continue Reading →

On Not Coupling: An Essay on How Not to Fall in Love. Maybe.

❤ If you asked me five years ago, on a regular Saturday morning such as this, anything having to do with dating or coupling (outside of business or creatively contributing to something) or, God forbid, Love and such, I would have quickly changed the subject to you, your life and goings--on; or my daughter or... Continue Reading →

Obia Dobia Shmobia.

Philemaphobia or Philematophobia- Fear of kissing. Philophobia- Fear of falling in love or being in love. Fear of missing out on something good/great/fantastic because you're afraid you're in too deep, getting too close? Is there a word for this?  (And, no, that's not it.  Not the words I'd use, exactly, but close.) Not too deep... Continue Reading →

Eyes Wide Open. (Literally.)

It's well early of 0630.  She suggests he come and try the seat to her right, it might be softer.  He declines.  An older, country gentleman in a fresh t-shirt and his 'good' cap. He's used to being uncomfortable.  A softer yield in a chair seat isn't going to make much difference. -Didja remembah to... Continue Reading →

Ostridge*.

"I am not a product of my circumstances.  I am a product of my decisions." -Stephen Covey. *Yes, the title is mispelled.  It is mispelled on purpose, as are both those uses of "misspelled."  They are, all three, misspelt (which is oddly correct, though it looks deplorable, doesn't it?  It looks witchy and magickal.) by... Continue Reading →

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