Dream Lovers, Speed Dating and Me

The heat has been relentless this September. Paychecks in the form of my Social Networking job arrived. I still need to do a major eBay or Yard Sale. I've been reading of people who cull through every six months and eliminate stuff. Yet I still have so much baggage scattered about.

It had been a most unusual day. A phone call I expected failed to come through. And then on cam4.com, this hot guy I'd seen months ago re-materialized under a new screen name. He was rather shy on cam....but I would be too if I were buck naked with 30 people watching. I cammed for a few minutes; my standard fully dressed, full of bullshit patter..juggling 4-5 conversations.

Eventually we got over to Skype. He lived north of Chicago which sounded great til I remembered that Wisconsin isn't 'down' from Illinois but above it. I was taking a risk by talking to him..small world that it is but we got so involved in discussing things we had in common and people we knew in California. I have dozens of friends in Chicago and visiting there wasn't out of the ordinary.

He wasn't 60 but 50. He wasn't 5'4" but 5'11". I kept shaking my head in disbelief: he was stunningly built but as he puffed and puffed on his peace pipe, his eyes began rolling about in his head. He made my crazy act look tame.

I sent him on his way into cyberspace and went from Lake Michigan to the Atlantic Coast and Maine where I had a great time with a fellow writer who was running a large turn of the century inn. Of course it's haunted so my Dark Shadows memories went into overdrive. I've not been to New England: I have a feeling I'm not going to get Peyton Place.

Alas he had two or three romantic triangles going on but as I've learned, it's better to listen and keep my mouth shut vs offer advice. No one asks for it, nor takes it anyway. Ha.

By the time I finally logged out and powered off the computer I felt like I'd been on a speed dating frenzy. And there were so many, it was simply fun.

In humble gratitude

I took a couple of weeks off from blogging, as you see. The first of August saw one death notice after another: Charon's ferry finally filled up, for fatalities have been few. The end of August coincided with two previously very committed freelance gigs that failed to happen: thus putting me in the worst financial bind since....this time last year. September just is not a good month for me financially. I'm disappointed in myself for assuming both clients were as good as their word: pun not intended. One is a fellow writer, newly single, from my home state, who tends to forget he is a 'fellow writer' and isn't the only person who can diagram a sentence, conjugate a verb for pay and wasn't weaned on cuneiform while the rest of us had Fisher-Price alphabet blocks.

So what does that bit o' bitchin' have to do with the blog title?

My life could be a lot worse. I have a place that I call home with a bed to sleep in, clean clothes to wear, and a refrigerator stocked with food, milk, and Dr. Pepper. I never have all the money that I want, then again, I've always seem to have some in my wallet, a bit in the bank and some loose change. According to a survey that makes me in the 8% of the world's wealthiest.

I am typing this to you on a laptop powered by wireless technology: something 35% of American homes don't have. 40% don't have a home computer. Having internet access allows me to blog and to keep up with my cyberfriends around the world. It also facilitates income for me: training people how to be online safer, smarter,and more secure than before; serving as a platform administrator for adult social networks, or offering advice based on how I see a situation. I've been the recipient of some well-needed advice as well. Not all of it taken...despite all attempts to the contrary.

With regards to my problemas sentimentales: well, I've linked to alot of corny songs; I've made some bad rhymes: and a few questionable choices. But I'd do no differently given a chance to change the past. No sir. I've acted out my love affairs on pages; with ten thousand people reading.  Amy Winehouse and Whitney Houston have covered it, but The Carpenters still deliver it the best.

I am one very grateful topman.