More and more

Some of my friends have postulated that I have an odd ability to befriend people who will need me in a significant way at some point. Some of my friends consider this a weakness. Some of my friend consider this a strength. Some of my friends probably don't think this is true anyways. I think that I do tend to meet people who are in hard places in life. Or maybe everyone has those hard places, and I just tend to be around when they go down. Whatever. The point is that I seem to always be called on during major crises. I've mentioned before that I love this about my life. It is kind of like being good at a really important job. I don't know, like being a food safety investigator who has never let an outbreak of E. Coli slip by on his watch or something. I mean, the other thing here is that people define crisis in different ways. For some, the crisis is simply whether or not to take a chance on loving someone unexpected. For others, it is whether they are going to be able to survive living with their parents any longer. For others still it is whether they will have a home and their daughter when they leave. I helped Terra move out of her mesa house and away from her raging husband. I packed up her uhaul. I drove to tucson to help unload it. I even slept there and tried to help console her. I tried to convince Heather that it was going to work out (it did). Et cetera et cetera. Et Set Terra. I wonder if it is that people who need me find me, or that people that I need find me. Or maybe that I'm just more aware of people who need help. I don't know. I think that it really comes down to whether I'm here for everyone else, or if they're here for me.

My type's phenotype

Bottom up:

Feet: Just SLIGHTLY larger than average, though not overly bone-filled or lean or sharp.

Calves: Larger than average, though not like fatty at all. I like a little muscle here.

Knees: No sagging.

Quads: Muscular shape, but no separation due to leanness.

Hamstrings: Muscle. Hook. It. Up. One of my favorite places. A nice curve. Mmm, tasty.

Butt: Thick due to muscular foundation, not fat. Cellulite not welcome here.

Waist: Smaller the better.

Stomach: I like to know that there is a six pack hiding under there, but I don't necessarily want to see it all the time. Just the side lines, and the oblique definition (another one of my favorite areas).

Boobs: Traditionally I pursue girls who are flat in the name of athleticism. I am not much of a breast man type (I prefer legs), but my ideal chick is otherwise athletic and lean with C cups. I don't like them too big. Although, Duffy might be edging up on some Ds. Side boob is one of the hottest things ever.

Arms: Um, what the fuck ever, so long as they aren't all flabby or trackmarked.



Here is a graphical representation of what I just described (my perfect female's body):



okay, so since it's apparently not obvious, this specimen is Jessica Biel

Erin

Where to begin?

First love of life, most likely. Advent of love, in fact. 2nd grade introduction to wonder and appreciation. I remember new emotions, like jealousy and desire. I hated Andy because I thought he had her. Turns out he didn't, though I still think that he could have. I turned to art for the first time ever. I drew the thing that I couldn't imagine and that I would have hated to have known (Andy and Erin having sex, though they both had penises, and one of them was floating above the other. It didn't really make sense, but it was the thought that mattered; and it got me in trouble, just like a grown up artist). It occurs to me that this really WAS the first time I had done this thing, and that it is something that I now do often. I find catharsis in facing fear or hatred or ugly evil, even if I have to create it first. That is, I might have to draw or paint or write this thing that I'm afraid of before I really realize that I'm actually afraid of it. So Erin may have introduced me to art as well. She has been my apparent host here. The person who announces my arrival. I didn't know that until just now, which is another example of her influence.

In 2nd grade I went to Las Vegas with my family. I think that I've told this story before. We were on a people mover or a conveyor belt or just walking next to a long picture window that opened up onto a man made lake with a volcano in it. This must have been at the Mirage where they have a volcano show with fire on the water. At some point I was able apparently to throw a coin in. The coin contained all of my love, and everything that I knew of prayer. I sincerely begged the volcano god to put me and Erin in the same class every year from then all the way through college, and then I secretly (even more secretly than this silent wish already) wished that we'd get married.

I still love her, and I'm sure that I'd do anything she asked me to do. She has experienced shit, and her life is so empty, that it almost makes me angry. Paul died, and killed a large portion of her. The bags under her eyes are my monument to him, and they will seemingly never let me forget him or his impact on her. If I were to want her to love me, I am not sure that I'd ever be convinced that I had 100% of her. She belongs to him still, and I do not know how to help her let go; I'm not sure if she's ready to yet.

It was always understood (by her and I) that she and Paul would end up together after he cleaned up.

Erin became the watermark for beauty, and my standard. She had a lean physique, like a drawing in my mind. She had jutting hips and long sinews of limbs that complimented her features and her hair, which appeared to be of a greenish tint. I know now that it was not green, but I seem to always see the hair of girls that I like as colors that it is not. That is extremely difficult to explain, but basically when I think of Erin, I picture her from eighth grade in front of a classroom that never existed, and her hair is light brown, but my brain looks at it and says "Green." I mean, it knows that it is light brown, but my brain SAYS "green." It's weird. Same thing happens when I picture Julee, only sometimes it's green and sometimes it's auburn.

On to 3rd grade, I don't remember Erin here, because Ms. Loyola was so hot that my memory was wiped clean. Okay, now 4th grade. Erin got me in trouble once, and I got detention. During recess she sat with me on the bench, which actually got her in trouble. I don't even think we spoke during that time we shared on the wooden bench. Okay, now on to 5th grade.

In 5th grade, I was sort of born. I decided that, for reals, I liked girls, and that was okay. At some point, I dated Laura. Maybe more about that later, I'm not sure yet. Also though, this is when Erin became the most sought after girl in our class. Every guy sort of simultaneously decided that Erin had it, and that we all wanted it. That sounds gross, but that's how it was; we didn't even know what it was, frankly. We just all sort of realized that she was hot and cool, and that we'd be hotter and cooler for being closer to her.

At some point, I wrote a note to Erin. It was neon green on one side, and white on the other. On the white side, I drew a skull that I largely lifted from a shirt I saw at Miller's Outpost, and I wrote "ERIN" in crappy Olde English lettering. I wrote something like, "Will you go out with me?" and then, "Yes/No Why/Why not?" and THEN "PS I really like you alot" (and the whole PS part was circled). I'm mostly excited that I asked "Why?" as in, "Yes? You WILL go out me? WHY?! What the hell's wrong with you?" Oh, and I wrote my name on the bottom, too. So yeah, I was a pretty smooth operator. I gave this note to Daniel to give to Erin (side note: Daniel was Erin's first kiss), which he did. Erin claims NOW that she wrote a note back that said "Yes," but I certainly didn't receive it. Her postulation is that Daniel didn't give me the note because of his jealousy (Daniel also liked Erin). I don't know, though, that's pretty convenient. So in the end, we never went out. Her loss. No, that's not true. My loss.

In sixth grade, I was completely smitten and in love with her. I called her all the time; enough even to be banned from calling by her mother. She dated Adam, one of my two best friends at the time, which actually really made me angry, but I didn't let anyone know. This was the height of my frustration.

In seventh and eighth grade I became more friendly with Elizabeth, and less with Erin. Those two did not like each other very much. I still secretly loved Erin, and wrote notes to her and stuff, but I was not as close to her as I used to be. Had she asked, I'm sure that I would have dropped everyone else for her.

High school was black days. We spoke rarely. She went to the all girl school across town. We grew apart. We came back together senior year, when we both worked at the rectory at St. Francis Xavier. We didn't like completely "rekindle," because she was with George, and I was with Julee, and we didn't always work together, but we became friends again.

We've sort of stayed friendly since then, and have recently (the past year or so, especially since Julee and I broke up) become very close. Inextricably close; perhaps symbiotically, at least on my end. My well-being these days involves her, even though we don't talk EVERY day anymore. I still love her as much as I did in 2nd grade, and in the same confusing way. I am perpetually secretly in love with her, though I am willing to hide that away for her benefit. It may be better for her that I am only her friend. I am okay with that, if that is what is truly best for her. I have only her best interest in mind.

to be continued...

Michelle

Michelle was my first real relationship, I think. We dated during the Summer before my junior year of high school and during the first semester therein. She was cool. A skateboarder who went to the local all girls school. She had a sense of adventure, and a little bit of a slutty streak. Her parents were dead (either figuratively or literally), and her guardian (her uncle) wanted to fist fight me. In hindsight, she was looking for an escape through love but she was going about it all wrong. I wasn't ready for sex, but she couldn't wait. We did do some stuff (oral, etc), but I wasn't really that good, frankly.

I failed Michelle.

She tried to kill herself around Christmas (though it may actually have been a ploy for attention, as she was prone to do). Our relationship was already winding down, and I felt that I could not be there for her the way that she needed someone to be. So I ended it. I wish now that I were a better person then, and that I could have been there for her.

Later revelations include that she probably cheated on me. I'm okay with it now, but I refused to believe it at the time. It's okay, I hope that she found some comfort in it. I wonder now where she is.

"We're going through the changes
Hoping for a replacement
Untill we find a way out of this
A way out of this hole"
Josh Rouse - 1972