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Miss Demure Restraint’s Journal
The whole damn year of 2008
It was a roller coaster ride 

I never know where my evil little mind is going to take me when I sit down here to write my next entry.  It would seem I will dwell in one of my favorite rooms again today.  Yes, the woes being single at the onset of middle age always a topic of interest.  What ya gonna do?  Seriously, most of us have spent the last ten years building careers and/or rising families.  I know my energy for the past decade was spent establishing a nice, cozy, middle class existence.  A few of us are just starting to look up from our grindstones and realizing time is, in fact, running out.  There is an expiration date on our potential to do all the things we dreamed of doing, but set aside to meet the obligations of the moment. 

I’ve been single forever!  I consider myself single, as I’ve been divorced over 10 years.  My daughter has been on her own for a very long time.  We don’t even live in the same state.  I ask, how single can a person be?  I looked up from my chosen grindstone about a year ago and realized the only true obligation I had was to myself.  There’s no one else that relies on me anymore and I have obtained those things that represent a measure of success (enough for me anyway).  I also realized I had no one to share the fruits of my labor with.  I’ll be frank here (you can be Shirley later – HeHe).  It gets lonely doing things by yourself or with couples that are friends.  It seems all my single friends through the years have become couples.  Hanging isn’t the same after that. 

So the conundrum . . . how to meet new people.  Work had become my life.  I’m not religious.  I don’t drink (rarely anyway).  That takes church and bars off the list of wheres.  Immediately strike the workplace.  I learned long ago that friends you work with must remain “work friends” as long as you work for the same employer or have regular business dealings.  There is nothing on the planet as pathetic as the “hook ups” my couples friends come up with for me.  I would rather swallow glass than suffer another evening with a “surprise” guest to even out my odd in the group.  Heaven forbid we have a stray odd now and then. 

Wouldn’t you think I’d meet other single people in the pursuit of my own interests?  What do I spend my time doing?  Of course, the job sucks up most of my waking hours.  What else do I do?  I workout.  I love working out.  I’d love to find a workout partner!  Okay . . . have you seen the people in the gyms?  I guess I’m not the only one with this problem of meeting other singles.  Most gyms are just meat markets.  I’m sorry, but when I workout I sweat, I grunt, my hair turns into a nightmare, and I wear clothes that let me move, but are not at all attractive.  With the women showing up at the gym in these little skirt things with their perfect hair and makeup, I went out and bought a recumbent bike and incline weight bench, put mirrors on one wall converting one of my bedrooms to a workout room.  

Yoga?  I do that a lot.  Who do I meet there?  More coupled women!  Great, more glass on the menu of my life.  One of the instructors is kind of a cool guy, but that seems a bad idea from the gate.  I spend most of the rest of my time writing.  Don’t get me wrong.  It is my passion.  I write everyday.  I blog everyday, I can.  God does that sound geeky!  I found blogging to be much more than I imagined it would be and it is a great joy in my life.  I have friends around the world now.  Problem is that its tough ringing up Zen in Australia to see if she wants to catch the movie matinee this afternoon. 

Okay, we do live in the realization of the global, electronic village.  Friend Computer (perhaps my best friend right now) should be able to help me out.  So what is offered?  Dating websites, personal ads, MySpace (Social site? What’s that?), now Twitter (does anyone really want to know I shaved my legs today?) and more are available with the click of a mouse button.  However, what are you really getting?  I’m not sure what people do in the cyber world.  There may just be as many scenarios as there are people.  It confuses me, frustrates me, disappoints me and sometimes delights me.  I guess its no different than the rest of life.  

E-mail and IM contact . . . $14.95 for internet access.  Telephone conversations . . . $28.54 for cell minute overages.  Meet for coffee . . . $12.80 for a scone and latte.  Dinner date . . . $130.05 for new dress.  Meeting someone you actually do things with . . . Priceless.  Oh that it were so simple!  

So every once in a while I stick my head in and check out what’s up and who’s back online and who’s gone and maybe now and then, who’s new.  I do have limited electronic (computer and phone) connect with a lot of people.  Its weird really.  An e-mail thread is initiated.  Some are amazingly brief.  Some go on for months.  Some make it to the talking on the phone stage, most don’t.  A few you actually meet.  Rarely, one of those will turn into a real date.  Second dates?  I could probably count them, but what a depressing undertaking that would be.  Anyone that actually became part of my life?  Easy answer there . . . one, maybe two. 

Maybe its not so much a problem meeting people.  When I consider it, I meet plenty of people.  Its just that most of – make that all – the men I meet are looking for a lot more than a hang out buddy or activities partner. SEX!!!  I blame sex or at least the pursuit of sex.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’ve met a bunch of very nice, interesting people.  I have contact of varying degrees with several of them.  Still its fleeting and if it persists its just recycles back though the pursuit of sex.  Regardless the advertisement of their search for a long-term relationships, its long term sex that most people really want.  Do I sound jaded?  I’m not really.  I like sex as much as, no probably more than, the next person.  I’m only going to engage in a relationship with someone that I’m having “rock your world” sex with.  So, I’m as guilty of the pursuit as everybody else. 

The result is that it is as rare to find friends as it is to find that illusive Mr. or Ms Right.  Most contact ends once a sexual agreement is reach or a real relationship develops.  No, correction here . . . scratch the agreement part.  Even if there is a “friend with benefits” arrangement, they are always short term.  Having regular physical intercourse either leads to sincere attachment or once the initial fireworks end there isn’t enough to continue based purely on sex.  We are social animals.  The animal may need to copulate, but if our social needs aren’t meet we will of need seek it elsewhere.  We have to have both the physical and the social connection for a relationship to be gratifying. 

So just where the hell is this rant going?  The more I know, the more I know I don’t know much.  This applies to everything.  Relationships . . . rough stuff.

Miss Demure Restraint’s Journal
Written Winter 2007 thru Early Summer 2008
Yes, it really took that long

Life has a way of “messin’ with ya.”  You think something is over and you close the book on it.  I literarily wrap up my life’s courses in this journal.  It’s a kind of closure for me.  Then Karma and her sister Fate, those little minxes that must endlessly tinker with my perception and my life, step in and throw me an unexpected curve. 

Sean is a most amazing man.  I met him through the Internet.  He is special to me in so many ways, I can’t begin to explain.  The most incredible thing he did for me was to reawaken my sexuality.  I find him immensely attractive, everything from his long hair to the Thor’s Hammer and leather wristband he wears to his intensely expressive eyes.  He is a musician, an artist.  Of course!  There is something about a creative soul that makes a man overwhelmingly captivating to me.  Sean radiates such an artistic aura.  It wasn’t flashy with him as it has been with others.  It was more a calm, warm light; like sunshine on your face on a mild spring day.

From his first poetic e-mails, Sean seduced me.  I will always remember our first exchange.  We seemed to have an instant connection, common interests.  The eloquent nature of his writing intrigued and enamored me.  I could easily have known him in a past life.  Then again, his vibe is so mellow that no matter I could only ever feel safe with him.  That feeling was not the result of repeated association, but a testament to his incredible verve. 

We spent time talking on the phone.  He made me laugh.  He drew me out.  I found myself disclosing things I rarely told others.  When we did meet it was capricious.  I had never been attracted to any man quite like I was to him.  We share a physical bond I know I won’t duplicate with anyone else.  That’s probably a good thing.  In another journal entry I wrote of him and said . . . Yes, Sean most likely played me like one of his electric guitars and I loved every minute of it.  I would do it all again in a heartbeat. 

He vanished without a word.  One day he just stopped replying to e-mails and text messages.  He didn’t call and my pride would not allow me to call him.  He disappeared as mysteriously as he had appeared.  I was upset, but nothing so traumatic as to unhinge me.  He was the first after such a long hiatus.  I frankly don’t think I could have forgone a look around to see what else was out there anyway.  I jumped back on the dating-go-round and had quite a wild ride.

Well, what can I say except this proves the sincerity of what’s recorded here in the journal . . . I did it again.  I’m not sure it even took a heartbeat.  When it rains, it pours.  I had a week when it seemed all the guys that had fallen away resurfaced.  Most significantly, within 24 hours I had e-mails from Luke and Sean.  These were the two most impactful men I had been involved with.  I almost blew Luke off, but managed to keep my original plans and waited to reunite with Sean.  His e-mail was that touching.  He was open and honest.  He made no pretense as to what he was looking for.  He even thought I might not care to ever speak to him again.  He was wrong.  He called as soon as I responded and it was as if no time had passed. 

Our sexual liaisons had been as momentous for him as me.  Still, he was not looking for a romantic relationship.  As he so directly put it, he was looking for “a friend, heavy on the benefits.”  How could I say no to a man that claimed he fantasized about me?  How could I not see if that spark was still there?  Honestly, much the same thing was going on with Luke.  The difference was that when I left Luke in the morning, I knew he and I would never be able to rekindle our sensual fire.  We might be able to be platonic friends, but that is all.  The moment I saw Sean, I had no doubt we would always connect and gratify each other on the physical plane.

We had a phenomenal weekend pushing the boundaries.  We knew we could be safe satisfying our curiosity together.  After that, we would get together a couple of times a month.  We’d hide out at my place for a day or two.  It wasn’t necessary to venture into the world or do anything but hang . . . laughing, talking, toking, listening to music, watching movies and exploring our sexuality.  It was awesome and it was fun.  It was a casual relationship without demands.  If we liked it, we did it.  We found a closeness in our pleasure, but we were not a daily part of each other’s lives.

I continued my search for the man I knew somehow was out there seeking me also.  Sean, however, became my mainstay.  If he called I would change my plans to accommodate him, to spend time with him.  There was no one that I preferred being with.  I had settled into a happy routine.   I never had a lack of dates and with seeing Sean regularly, I was erotically satiated.  I was by no means exclusive with him, but no one else ever came close to him when it came to sex.  More and more we grew to appreciate many other things about one another.  We found comfort and joy in each other’s arms.

Then one day the inevitable occurred.  It was bound to happen to one or the other of us.  As it turns out, I fell in love.  I had not found anyone that fulfilled me such that I was willing to make any real commitment.  Then one day, I met a man like none before him.  I had no issue dumping my male harem, except for Sean.  I had not expected that.  I found myself stalling.  Even though more each day I knew I had found the man for me, still I could not bring myself to let Sean go.  I even contemplated trying to juggle both, but I would have been lying to the two most important men in my life even if by omission.  I could never do that to either of them or myself.  Still, I confess my greed, the thought was there for a brief moment.

My rocker didn’t let me down though.  He was gracious and truly happy for me.  He made me do something I never do.  He made me cry with his honor and compassion.  These were not tears of regret, just a sadness at parting.  You see, my fuck buddy had become my friend and lover.  He was not the one I expected to release my tears to.  It was his parting gift.  I haven’t cried, nothing more than a few quiet tears, over a man or anything for that matter in many years.  I spent hours bawling like a baby and finished writing this . . . something I had started months ago, but didn’t know where it was going.

Sean is dear to me in countless ways.  There is no one else that could have done the things he did for me.  He awoke physical passion in me and opened the floodgates in the dam holding back my tears.  He was the proof that I had beyond doubt found absolute love.  How can I be so sure it is absolute?  I could have never let Sean go for anything less, not by choice.  He will forever be in my heart and a part of me, no matter what may come.  All I can say for now . . . Baby, you rock!

Journal Note
August 2008

Life has a way of “messin’ with ya.”  You think something is over and you close the book on it, but this story just doesn’t seem to end.  When the man I thought was the love of my life became a monster before my eyes, yes, my rocker was there for me.  True and wise, gentle and understanding, venerable and supportive, he was the man that stood beside me, calmed my fears and made me feel safe in the world once more.  I can’t imagine ever again letting go my bond with my friend, my lover, my rocker . . . Sean.

Miss Demure Restraint’s Journal
Written in late December 2007
Much has happened since

I was seeking a safe outlet to explore the reassembly of my soul. I had shed the weight I had been hiding under for years. I had been disconnected emotionally, creatively, spiritually during that time in order to maintain a semblance of sanity. I required a way to meet people that were in no way currently associated with me. It was critical that I keep the two parts of my life separate to protect all the progress I had made getting my act back together after my last catastrophic, emotional and financial meltdown. I was looking to touch someone again in all the ways that are genuinely important to me, but I needed to maintain an escape route should things go badly.

The butterfly that emerged from the cocoon of fat was definitely in heat after almost nine years of celibacy. I am sincerely committed to the belief that bonding with someone on a physical level is indisputably the highest form of articulation between two people that is possible. Everything else flows from that sensual connection. However, finding that type of physical unison is not an easy thing. I really don’t think it can be created. It also exists in varying degrees between different people.

What better way to find what I was looking for than Internet dating? Of course, I had no idea how to go about this. I knew about the big, expensive companies that advertise all the time. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to part with any hard-earned cash to try out this daft idea. I figured there had to be a way to “test” this and I wasn’t looking for someone to spend the rest of my life with after all. I was looking for a safe means of expressing myself without risk to my nice stable life and most definitely to get laid.

I turned to Friend Google and asked, “Is there free online dating?” I logged on to the first of what would eventually be many online dating websites. It was a payment optional set up. If you wanted to be able to do more than “wink” at another member, you paid. If you paid, you could e-mail anyone and anyone could e-mail you. If you didn’t pay you were limited to communicating only with members that had paid. My inner female chauvinist sow asserted herself as I decided I would not consider a man that wasn’t willing to pay for the pleasure of my cyber charms.

‘Tis a strange and mysterious labyrinth, that I lurched into that evening, the world of online dating. I was totally unprepared for what I was about to do. Immediately upon signing in you have to complete a “Profile.” You answer a bunch of questions – age, height, body type, hair color, education, social habits, that kind of stuff. Okay, no deal. Then you are supposed to write an essay about yourself.

I froze. I had not written anything more communal than a business letter and little longer of a personal nature than a couple of lines via e-mail or IM in almost 10 years. I should at this moment seek out any remaining copies of that essay before it can be used against me. It was flat! It lacked any personality or depth or verve. It is by far the worst thing I have written since grade school, no lie! As we would say online – LOL.

The next trauma was their request for a photo. I had no pictures. At least nothing that represented what I looked like at the time. Nothing I would want to “publish.” The only electronic picture I had was my fat epiphany photo. I would not be showing that picture to anyone I might consider dating. I determined that there was nothing I could do and continued sans photo. A couple of mouse clicks later I was part of the Internet dating phenomenon.

I was not online but a couple of minutes when I got my first e-mail, even without a picture. I was astonished. Dan was my first. He will go down in infamy as the first man to contact me online as well as the first to ask me to have sex via the computer based on little more than the fact that I was sitting at my laptop looking for a date. Dan was almost always online, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a lot of women in the Northwest’s first that way. I confess I toyed with Dan.

Now faced with what I thought I wanted (sex), I started having second thoughts. I weaseled out. I knew I was going to need more than a warm body. It was not that Dan was probably not physically attractive (you see, I never meet him IRL). He appeared to be good-looking in his “photo” and his job as a personal trainer pretty much guaranteed him being in good shape. I knew I would never be attracted to him as soon as I talked to him on the phone. There was nothing there. He was more distant than I knew myself to be and what I wanted was to let loose. The phone conversation as a step in the “meeting” process became one of my first prerequisites.

Dan and I continued to play our little game for several months, him asking and me saying no, sometimes seeming to be on the verge of capitulating, but always saying no in the end. It even reached a point that I would e-mail him if I hadn’t heard from him for a while. It almost seemed at one point that he was developing some personality, but another phone call dispelled that notion quickly. Over time, we lost touch.

Dan did do one thing for me. He got me to get some pictures posted on the website. That was a harrowing episode. I had a digital camera and one morning when I was ready for work early, I engaged in my own little photo shoot. It was tragic really. I took a dozen pictures to get one I didn’t completely hate. That was just of my face. My leftover fat body image made getting a full-body shot almost impossible. Somehow, I managed to get a couple of pictures to include in my profile. They have never been changed. It was that dreadful, but it did motivate me to continue with my workouts. From everything bad, we can find something good that results. It’s just damn hard to see sometimes.

I have no idea how to judge response, not knowing what other women have experienced with online dating, but I was a little impressed. There was enough to keep me busy e-mailing back and forth with several men. I had learned with Dan to go slow. This, however, was creating a kind of backlog of people to set up meetings with. After a short time, I jumped in with both feet. I made “dates” with two men for the weekend. I learned a lot that weekend about what I did and didn’t want, as well as what I did and didn’t need.

Friday night was a total bust. This guy claimed to be 50 (I’m betting more like 60). All he did was talk about all the money he USED to have. Boring! He didn’t lose the money in a divorce as is quite common. Believe me, I have all the sympathy in the world for that situation. I almost had to pay my first ex alimony and was forced into bankruptcy by my second. Its usually men that take it in the shorts in a divorce, but I have always been contrary. He also told me he cheated on his pregnant wife and got the neighbor lady pregnant. He didn’t say it like that. He was trying to portray a sympathetic character because his son had never forgiven him for taking care of the bastard child. What a great guy! He was just another (not too bright) lair and cheat. I got out in just under an hour.

It made me question Saturday’s date. That, however, turned out to be magnificent. The guy had a unique angle. We went to Ikea to buy a bed. For real, buy a bed! It was a blast. He got his bed and we went for Mexican food afterwards. He was a “rocker” dude and just my type with dark, brooding good looks and sexy as hell. He was funny too. I swear, I almost wet my pants, I was laughing so hard. He was a little younger than me, but it didn’t matter at all. There was that amazing physical chemistry that just happens sometimes.

My tormented, haughty rocker was Sean. He was the first man I was intimate with after nine, long, sexless years. In all fairness to my not being a total slut (at that time anyway) and jumping into bed with this guy I met online upon our first meeting, he prepped me for that first date like a pro. His first e-mail to me said, “You have incredible eyes and such beautiful hair and face. As close to an angel as we mortals could ever get here on earth.” I was new at this! Of course, I was impressed. I still am. My heart skips a beat every time I read it. Sean’s e-mails were always poetic in the way that women love to hear.

He didn’t stop with the charming e-mails though. We talked on the phone for hours. I knew before we meet that he was going to make me laugh, he had been doing that already. He was good at drawing me out and was always so tender and empathic. He was shocked to learn I had been completely celibate (not even masturbating) for most of the past decade. Before we had even met, he remedied part of that situation. Sean was my first phone sex. He claimed to have never done it before, but, man, was he good at it! I’d take phone sex with Sean over the real thing with a lot of men.

Yes, Sean most likely played me like one of his electric guitars and I loved every minute of it. I would do it all again in a heartbeat. He had even brought an overnight bag with everything needed to stay that first date. It was a good thing. He followed me home and we spent the next 24 hours together. The sex was passionate and he had incredible stamina. Eventually, I would call him my “Energizer Bunny.” We talked and laughed and then we’d be swallowed again by the ardor just to end up laughing and talking some more. It was a spectacular 24 hours. I couldn’t help but walk funny when I went to work on Monday.

I didn’t see Sean but for a fairly brief period of time. We were thrilled with our sexual aerobics. It didn’t take long however for it to start getting a little freaky and I kept wondering how it could be so good every time. The duration of the physical entanglements alone was overwhelming. I certainly didn’t remember sex being this good or men being so into pleasing their partners. Things had changed in nine years or this guy was extraordinarily gifted or I don’t know what, but it was great.

I don’t know what happened to Sean. One night he crawled out of the bed. I thought he might be hurt, but he assured me he would be okay. He did come back to bed for a while, but he didn’t stay that night and I didn’t see him again. He left the bar set pretty high for the next guy. Sean had provided me something I very much needed though . . . someone to touch that sensual part of me packed away years before and stir it gently to life. (Thank you Sean, no one could have done it better)

And here I began my true odyssey. I had let the online thing go while I was seeing Sean. I dove back in. It didn’t take me long to start chafing at the restrictions of the pay site and I found a completely free site. Some of the guys I was corresponding with told me about other free sites. Suddenly I had profiles on several sites and I was not the only one. It is a peculiar community of people out there. It is surprising how many of them you see on one site after another. Some of them become familiar faces. I, of course, feel free to comment on this matter having been a bona fide member of that community.

I started “weeding” though the men that I could eliminate without having to actually meet. I will be frank here . . . physical appearance and attributes do count when you are in this kind of selective process. I could be picky having made electronic contact with more people than I could possibly meet. I like to wear high heels. I want any man I’m with to be taller than me. I have no idea where such a silly, shallow requirement comes from inside me, but I just don’t have that attraction to short men. I further had to find something appealing about their photo(s). This could be anything. I have been told I have an odd concept of what good-looking is. I lean towards those with a menacing guise. I’m not much into clean-cut, pretty boys. They had to impress me both in written format and though phone conversations. I learned that if those things aren’t all happening, a meeting is a waste of time.

I can’t even remember all of the men I met. I was a one-hit wonder. I can’t count all of the first dates I had. I hadn’t appreciated how often that upon meeting, everything about the preconceptions developed over the course of e-mailing, IM’ing and talking could change in an instant. It is amazing to me how different someone can be in real life from his electronic persona. Pictures can be deceiving. It is really quite surprising when the person looks only marginally like you expected them to look. I find that to be a death blow and I can’t recover from the shock. And this is only the tip of the iceberg. For every one you meet, you have started with several “e-mail buddies.” There is a significant investment of energy required for such a marginal return.

Not all of my first “dates” were bad. There were several men I went out with and continued to talk to and/or e-mail for varying periods, but just never got around to going out with again. They faded away over time. It didn’t matter in the long run. My theory of the chemistry being there from the start has always proved out for me and that affinity was marginal with them. I had a higher standard. I really didn’t want to have to settle. Once I knew that physical spark wasn’t there in quantity no matter how nice or fun the guy was, it wasn’t going to work for me and I knew it. I already had plenty of male friends and that was not what I was looking for.

I did meet some very memorable men and made a couple of friends anyway. I e-mail a remarkable man in the UK. He is one of the first men I had contact with when I went online. We correspond almost daily. I consider Neil to be the most extraordinary person I have ever known. I do feel that I know him to some small degree. He probably knows me as well as anyone in real life. He has stuck with me from the beginning and has listened to my misadventures in dating always giving me prudent advice, cheering me up should I need it or soothing my traumatized ego when it took a beating. He is simply wonderful and someone I truly love purely for the person he is. I like to think someday I might be able to meet him, but it likely won’t ever happen. Maybe that’s a good thing with my track record. I would hate to lose Neil. (Of course you will read this, Dearest, you are incredible and don’t you forget it! I do love you.)

There is a huge amount of “sharing” you do during the e-mail phase. It afforded me the opportunity to write. It didn’t matter that it was mostly meaningless drivel, it stated me exercising long unused muscles. I’m not sure when, but I was developing a style again. I found myself looking critically at how I was putting the words together. There were a couple of e-mails I was rather fond of. My favorite is Uber Sexy.

Yes, “Uber” was the first thing I wrote that had undertones of me in it. It was like the fluffy stuff I had written in past years only a bit more mature. Then I would hope that I was more complex at this point in my life. I didn’t see it at the time I wrote it, but it was the first quiet, rustling of my creativity shaking its head. The little white box on the screen had started a process that an enigmatic man would later help complete.

It does seem an incredible amount of work, but every once in a while you stumble across someone worth spending time with. The fault may very well lie with me and my agenda not the medium, but these have been the shortest encounters of my life. It would seem gains made in duration in the bedroom have been offset by the shortening of the overall liaisons. The longest I experienced only lasted a few months soup-to-nuts. I still don’t know of any better way to met men in these times. It did provide me with what I needed, disposable relationships. If you don’t get too close, you don’t get too hurt.

There was only one man that I suffer any regret over and that was John. He was a truly nice man and he really liked me. I did not have that burningly intense sensual connection with John. It was no fault of his. He had passed my screening process. We had a lot of fun together and much in common. I did it right with John. We dated for a time before becoming intimate. When we did have sex, it was good, not earthshaking, but very good. There was an acceptable degree of attraction and at any other time in my life it might have even worked for a while. (You deserve someone less damaged than me, John)

I stopped seeing John because I met one of those men that validates the “no sex on the first date” rule by way of being the exception to it. I truly thought for a very short time that online dating had delivered to me the man I had long sought, but never expected to exist. The physical attraction with Luke was off the charts and so was the sex. It was the best sex on the planet (at least I thought so at the time). It was effortless, spontaneous, and completely natural. It was like breathing. He seemed to instinctively know exactly what to do to rock my erotic foundation. All reason was lost when it came to my encounter with Luke.

“Admiration is the daughter of ignorance.” – Ben Franklin (a sage and wise man, and, by all accounts, very funny).

Ergo, ignorance is the mother of admiration and I needed to wise up. I require a stable platform and Luke was the fucking Titanic. I wonder if incredible sex causes some kind of reaction in the brain that disables all reason and logic. He seemed to be all those things I most admired and was seeking after . . . intelligent, artistic, emotive, humorous, worldly, philosophical, erudite, independent, enigmatic (yes, he’s the one). He appeared to know all the things I wanted to know. For a time, it even seemed he wanted to share them with me.

The more logical analysis is that he was just someone that had use of me for a while. Once I was no longer of benefit to him, he pretty much gave me the boot. He did it in the most urbane and flattering way I could ever imagine. A combination of his artist’s angst and the mind-blowing sex was his reason for needing to step back and reassess. I had once again been blindsided by myself. I had become a “deposable relationship.” So the karmic wheel turned on me and justly so. (Luke, I may never figure out what happened between us, but thanks for shining the light)

For now, at least, I have retired my cyber alter ego. I could present a noble pretense and say I had learned you can’t use people and not expect to be used. I’m not that evolved. The truth is that I need time to get over Luke before I can stop using him as a yardstick to measure every man I meet. I need time to be able to trust another man not to use me again. And, I’m basically too tired right now to invest the effort that the online search requires.

I have my life with its pursuits. I have the gifts bestowed on me through this novel experience. I have made great strides in the reassembly of my soul. I am once again in touch with the sensual and creative aspects of myself. I have redefined my goals and have a plan to achieve them. I am writing again. I have discovered yoga (a cosmic gift to mankind). The break with Luke did not cause a catastrophic meltdown in my life. I’m sure there will come a time (probably soon), I will be ready to pursue male-female bonding again, but, in most ways I am content and satisfied at the moment. I’d say all I need to do now is buy a vibrator.

Miss Demure Restraint’s Journal
Written in late December 2007 or early January 2008
I honestly don’t remember.

What words would ever be adequate to describe Luke? Brilliant comes to mind. I mean that in the way you refer to a great artist or notable intellect. He has both in him. And as with all remarkable people known and unknown, he isn’t like everybody else. He is a mad man. His “insanity” is part of his charm (for me anyway). However, it also drives him to constant motion across the geography of the world and his life. He is truly an unbound spirit. Strictly as a personality, I admire him greatly and enjoy his company immensely.

We met and the chemistry was explosive. It certainly wasn’t like anything I had experience before. The physical connection was mind-blowing and more than a little scary. It was intense on a level I had never imagined. There is no ladylike way to say this, so . . . the sex seemed the best on the planet, maybe in the universe! He truly rocked my world in a very real sense.

Have you ever met someone and known them, I mean, really known them from the first moments? Has there ever been a person in your life that moved you both physically and spiritually? He was both for me. In the cosmic consciousness, I believe we have combined and come apart an infinity of times. We shared such unusual things. I’m sure he and I have met and will meet again through our repeating cycles of existence. We both knew it from the start. We have been doing this over and over and over. The connection is too pronounced. The physical bond so totally natural and effortless, it can only be explained in that we have been together before. Further, my sense of what was coming was much too strong.

Luke gave me a gift that I will forever love him for. He put me back in touch with my artistic muses. I don’t know if it was just being in the presence of his aura (he does broadcast an amazing energy) or if it was the completing of the restoration of my sensual self, but that part of me that was holding captive all my creative potential released. He helped me find again that part of myself that I have always loved best. Now that I have it back I will guard, nurture, and cherish it. (If I never told you, Babe, thanks.) I wrote two pieces very specifically for him. Both were prophetic. The first was a “letter” and the second a poem.

It seemed from the beginning, one, the other or both of us were hell bent on torpedoing any possibility of a relationship. I freaked out after the first night we were together. We were supposed to meet the next day, but I was so shaken I canceled. I figured that would be the end of it, but it wasn’t. He called on a Sunday evening a week or two later and I didn’t say no. We spent two amazing days together. That is when I knew without doubt that we had been together before. It was effortless. We had a blast.

After that it was the most off and on thing I could imagine. Basically, we would grow distant during the week. He had his angst and I had my job. We were both seeing other people, too. Still somehow we would end up together at least one night each weekend. During this time, I started writing again. I was working on a narration based on what I was feeling at the time. It was dark and pessimistic. I had finished it, but had no title for it. I got my title when I checked his blog site and he had made a posting a few days before. It was titled “Letter to my best friend.” Basically, it talked about dumping me (and somebody else) in his tormented attempt to maintain his sanity . . . women and writing being the bane of his existence. It took me a couple of days to get set up, but Letter to My Almost Perfect Lover was my first posting for Miss Demure Restraint’s Weblog.

So with both of our declarations posted for the world and each other to see, I stopped to pick something up from his apartment. It was fully my intent that it would be the last time I would see him. It didn’t work out that way and yet it did. We spent nine consecutive unbelievable days together in a world of our own and then we stopped seeing each other. I wrote the poem the morning after what would turned out to be our Last Night together. I didn’t know when I wrote it that it was to be so prophetic.

It was true. I had “sadly” watched him sleep that last night and was almost overwhelmed by the fact that I didn’t know why it hurt so. The next evening it was over. If art imitates life, then what is it when art predicts life? I knew because we have done this many times before, enough for me to feel it coming even when I had no reason to expect it.

Ours was never intended to be a relationship. At this moment in time, I doubt I will see Luke again in this life. I know at the deepest roots of my being, that is not the end for us. We are destined to keep colliding with one another for good or ill. I do know in this life, he has been a spiritual teacher, a catalyst, not a fixture. Everything is just exactly as it should be.

Draw what conclusions you will. It was one of the most remarkable chapters in my life. For now, that’s my tormented, anguished, brooding beatnik.

Another hard lesson from my buddy . . . life. It would seem I have got to make some choices. It had been my intent to start a second blog of my journals, postings longer than I like to do here. I went so far as to set up the site. The plan was to spend my recovery time after surgery writing in general and specifically organizing the journals to make them ready for posting. Swing and a miss. I’m not sure what I was thinking. I know I can’t write under medication. I should have known that script is script, whether it be pain meds or bipolar meds.

I still thought I might manage it once I got my feet back under me, but then the unexpected happened. I seemed to have found the fulfillment of one of my other dreams. I meet a man and we are in love. No big surprise to any that have read this blog in the last couple of months. My God, I was a dribbling idiot for awhile. Its all good, at least I was writing something.

So now between working ten hours shifts, trying to maintain some kind of workout schedule, practice my yoga, make somewhat regular posts here, keep my house so that my OCD doesn’t manifest, write in my journals, participate in a couple of writing projects with others, pursue some spiritual growth, spend time with my love and do the other thousand things I have in my life, I have to be honest and admit I do not have time for another blog.

I admit a certain sadness, but I am so very blessed in my life at the moment that this is nothing. I could just leave it out there dormant until something changed or I found time. Still, there is something heartbreaking about that empty blog sitting with nothing but the mention that someone hopes to get to it someday. So, I’ve decided to delete it.

As with all things though, there’s a flip side. I don’t have to give it up completely. I have several entries ready that aren’t so long that I can’t post them here. I’m sure in the future there will be more. So I say both farewell and hello to Miss Demure Restraint’s Journal.

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