Ohhhh, hello there... And, how've you been?

Yeah, so we've not done this in a couple days. And, what a busy few days they've been.

Let's see here. Last time we went about this was Tuesday, at round about 2 am. Few things have happened since then. Didn't sleep Monday evening, well, it's not that I didn't sleep I just slept very little. That really made Tuesday not all that pleasant, didn't make it to the office, and things weren't well.

It really amazes me the way things can come back around, how the world can just spin and everything can flip on it's ass. It's all about perspective...

"Anything's Possible."

This is where we skid wildly into a tangent. I love these little interjections. Most often, this phrase is used in a negative connotation to suggest that something is highly unlikely. Where as I were to lay out a therory, and in a dismissive fashion you snidely retort with "Anything's Possible." When infact, it's much the opposite, as often smug replies are. Sarcasm is angers evil stepsister or something of the like.

Once in a great while, life can come out of no where and surprise us. It feels like someone just "pants" you in the middle of Time Square. Out of no where, you're half naked and your boys sway free in the breeze. Good times. Something you never saw coming hits you like a stiff breeze and it all changes. Anything's possible.

Back to the point I was making. I've mentioned previously that I'd taken that step, and signed up for Yahoo Personals. Reference "Well hell, I've gone and done it now..." (5-21-04). As much as I'd resented J for his comments the night before, it caused me to finally step up to the plate and make a little press release announcing that I was once more looking for companionship. Well, lets clarify that, I've been looking for sometime now, but never really took the measures to make it happen. I'm loving his ass at the moment, in his drunken ignorance and lack of concern for civil conversation or the shame involved previously in my love life, he pushed me into the elevator. And, because of it, I've met a beautiful young woman.

Have you ever had that nagging suspicion after a few minutes of conversation that you've known this person your entire life? It's usually because they're attractive in some sense, and you identify certain traits of theirs to other people close to you. Their smile reminds you of your friend, their outlook is similar to your brothers, the music they enjoy is much alike the tastes of your mentor, etc etc etc... Your mind creates a sense of comfort and familiarity with this person. It is like that, except instead of identifying parts of her with those close to me, I've come to realize she mind as well be a feminine and much finer version of me. It's almost frightening how much we have in common. In the beginning, being the cynic I am, I thought she might have been inserted in my life by the federal government so they could keep closer tabs on my activities. Paranoia tastes like peppermint when its reigning. Wow, wasn't that just a frightening abuse of the written word.

Either way, after about two hours on the phone Wednesday evening, I'd finally tricked her into letting me buy her dinner. Actually, I'll share with you what sealed it for me. A mutual love for Kevin Smith, and his abilities when it comes to writing dialogue. So, as usual I spent the next day on eggshells in anticipation. Most of the day my plans for the quickly upcoming evening occupied the forefront of my mind. But, of course, I broke out the "Power Outfit" and all was suddenly well.

The Power Outfits.

There are three infact. First, obviously, shower up... Then get dressed. I look exceptional in a freshly pressed shirt, top two buttons undone, untucked, with the sleeve buttons undone. The ones by the wrist, not the forearm. In times of occasion such as these, it's important to look "nice". So, you break out the black dress shirt, the designer jeans which are pre-faded in the oddest spots, the high polish dress shoes, and a black rubber band which you're forced to steal from J, just cause it really ties the outfit together. It's amazing how both an area-rug and a rubber band can tie separate things together into an even more perfect state. So, either way, I look damned good. You do the hair, infact you focus on it a little too long and start feeling a title like obsessive creeping towards you. Little deodorant touch-up, a splash of cologne (also borrowed, thanks man), all mixed with the secret ingredient. Shampoo! Sounds like a recipe for something obscure, but it was more a matter of convience smashing into laziness. Yeah, so we were out of soap in the bathroom, so I was forced to wash with Shampoo... Coconuts, great. But, somehow, it all comes together and smells of roses. Then, you sit around for an hour due to the fact that T-Mobile's service is ass, and a little miscommunication.

So, we're on our way to dinner. She actually came and picked me up. She'd warned me about four times already that she infact looked like a preschool teacher, but I was honestly fine with that. She had to attend to some business before dinner, (it was a Thursday mind you) and she had to visit with the parents of Noah. That's another story, which I'll exclude at the moment. For some reason, she seemed uneasy at first. Well, there's a good chance it was because we'd only first spoke two days previous, and now I was seated all of an arms length from her. Point of reference, I guess axe murders wear flannel, so watch out for that... That was actually slighting lumberjacks, which seems inappropriate, well no, in turn... Fuck it, the blog here requires no paper. My incredibly poor sense of direction soon came into play, as I tried to locate that little alley way known as fourth street. Downtown Cleveland is sort of fucked in that sense. Either way, we'd finally come upon my old stomping grounds... Pickwick and Frolic.

Ahhhhh, the place where so many relationships began, and went absolutely no where. My last four first dates were all staged at Pickwick and Frolic. I don't know, I really just like the place. Rustic American Atmosphere, relatively limited menu, but obscene portions. Which is all the better though, because they've really got the damned niftiest take out boxes in town. Once more, the service was ass... This guy, well, he was just sad. I wasn't bothered so much that he was flagrantly homosexual, but more so because he kept making unwarranted physical contact with my errogenous zones. Yeah, nothing like a reach around from the waiter to really get the date going. But, seriously folks, it almost brought tears to my eyes. What you've got to understand is that at PW&F the smoking section consists of the bar, and a few hightop round tables lined amongst the dividing wall. You really can't expect great service in such a low population, and high traffic location. Although, the bull-dyke waitress I had a few times back was great, and made for decent conversation, hell she even sold me a bottle of wine from the bar to go. But, wait just a moment, it gets much more interesting.

If this is your first time reading, or you've got no personal relation to me, I'd like to take a moment and explain my common over vigilance. When I enter a room, any room, I instantly take inventory of everyone and everything happening. It's good to be conscious of your surroundings, you'll never know when the scene will turn all John Woo and you'll have to get down and dirty with your dual deagles akimbo and what not. Watch out for the doves, they always bring trouble with them. Beyond vivid and violent fantasies, I just like to know the scene, it helps me to settle in and get comfortable. But, here, this evening there was none of that. I was honestly so engrossed in the conversation, that all of a sudden, it's 12:30 and the restaurant is bare. We actually closed out the place, it was going that well. To top things off, we're walking out of the restaurant, and there is Bill Bellamy in the foyer. Being as it weren't the mid-90's, I wasn't star struck or anything, but it made it all the more memorable.

Overall just a great evening, we clicked. It was a shared moment. From sleeplessness on a Monday, to Cloud 9 by Friday morning... Life is good.

I'm honestly happy, and fuck the rest of it, cause that's really all that matters.

-Rys4K

p.s- Post an opinion if you take the time to go through this, I'd really just like a count of who peruses my written works. I'd always assumed it to be around a dozen, but it could just be my mother... Or all the children in China... Quick, all at once, jump.