The Meanest Thing I ever Did without Trying to be Mean

The Meanest Thing I ever Did without Trying to be Mean.

The year was early 1994.  I had my first medical job in a medium sized clinic, with about a dozen transcriptionists.  One of them went through the Thursday paper with an eagle eye, looking for a man in the personals section.  I started going through them as well, just for fun.  I found one, from a woman, seeking a man.  I know I’m not a man.  She did not.  I told her the truth about everything else in my life except my gender, thinking, foolishly, that she would not care.

I wrote every single day, and came home every single day to a letter from her.  She found me funny, charming and did not want to meet right away.  She was slightly overweight and thought I would not find her attractive.  She had a daughter, I had a daughter; we exchanged photos of them and then sent the photos back to each other with the return mail.

One day her letter to me said, “Georg, I think I’m falling in love with you.  I know we haven’t met but you’re everything I’m looking for in a man.”

I wrote back, “Well, my friends call me Georg but that isn’t actually my name.  It’s ________”.   She wrote back, “I don’t understand.”

My next letter must have broken her heart.  “I’m a woman.  I was hoping it would not matter to you as I’m still the same person.”  She sent back nothing.  No more letters came.  I sent flowers to the address.  Still nothing.  I sent apology notes.  Nothing.  I drove to the return address and found the apartment empty.

End of story.  I would like to say that she sent me a letter, forgiving me, but that would be fiction and this blog is about the truth.

Dear lady whose name I no longer remember, I am so sorry I hurt you, so very very sorry.  I was young, I didn’t know I would hurt you like I did.  I still believe I’m as good as any man you could ever have found.  All my best, Georg.

The Huntress.

Do you ever get the urge to say my name?

When she has your panties sticky soaking wet,

do you ever wonder what it would be like to taste my sweat?

When she’s licking you and you can’t quite cum,

do you ever wonder what it would be like to feel my tongue?

 

The game she enjoys the most

is the hunt.

Stalking new prey,

locking down her position,

setting her sights,

steadying her aim,

bagging her kill.

The huntress.

A fierce competitor,

with strong hunting instincts.

I wonder if her aim is going to be

true this time, too.

My only question is…

Am I talking about me,

or about you?

Lending a helping hand…

I have a serious question today….When you want to help someone out for the holidays, how do you choose who to help? 

I went online, Craig’s List, under General and there are about a half dozen families that need help, and only a couple asked for themselves; mostly it is friends asking for friends. 

A pregnant mother needing baby supplies.  A father trying to catch up from being out of work for months, with two small kids.  A mother with no winter clothes after being out of work from a car accident (victim of a drunk driver).  A mother with four kids and nothing for Christmas. 

We read about a man who opened his home on Thanksgiving to people who wanted a place to go, and this year he will feed 87 people.  I can’t do that.  I can choose to help one family but how do you choose from among so many hungry people?

Check, please.

The waitress took us to a small secluded booth in the back of the restaurant, and my love slid in beside me.  Handing us dinner menus, the waitress took our drink orders and left.  Almost instantly, I felt my lover’s hand on my left leg, her touch light and gentle but firm.  Instinctively, I put my hand on top of her hand to stop her forward motion toward my crotch.  She looked over at me, and whispered, “I asked for this table for a reason, now please remove your hand from mine.”

 My heart dropped into my stomach on those words, and her hand continued their forward journey of exploration.  My mind remembered our conversation of a few weeks’ earlier, and how she had said that, under the right circumstances, she wasn’t against public yet private teasing.  I had a feeling I was going to find out how far she would go uninterrupted.

As our waitress returned with our drinks and set them before us, I found myself wondering if she could see my love’s hand on my inner thigh, her fingers having stopped a mere inch from the seam of my jeans.  I was pretty sure that the tablecloth covered us and I did not want to look down and draw attention, so I tried to maintain eye contact with the waitress as she told us the dinner specials.  As soon as she turned and walked away, Coll’s hand rubbed across that seam, her fingers moving it back and forth; I could tell she was searching through my jeans, and my panties, for my clit.

Funny how time slips away…

Al Green sang about it and listening to this song today, I’m reminded of past loves and how I have used that line again and again…how I’d love them ’til the end of time’

“Heard you told him, yes baby
That you’d love him till the end of time
Well you know, that’s the same thing
That you told me
Well, it seems like just the other day
Ain’t it funny how time slips away”

And I sit here today, crying over lost loves, and how they didn’t last, and I wish I could tell them, talk to them, hear them say It’s all good.  Ain’t it funny how time slips away.

Day 38 of my gratitudes:

Day 38 of my gratitudes:
I am grateful for ham – bacon’s rico-suave cousin.
I am grateful for bicycles.  Requires no gas yet able to move you across town quicker than your feet would.  No, I don’t ride.  I’m thankful other people do though.  What?  My neighbor got a bicycle and no longer sits on the porch, catcalling to me and Lori.  Two years and he still has no clue we’re not going to sleep with him.  Thank God he got a bicycle.
I am grateful for telephone poles.  There’s a good invention, right?  Fun for woodpeckers and good for telephone lines.  You gotta love that. 

Peck, peck, peck – have a nice day and don’t forget to be grateful!

We never went to Wichita…

“We’ll always have Wichita”, I wanted to say

and be gracious and loving, in my usual way.

The words got caught, just about here

and rolled down my face, in the form of tears.

“We’ll always have Wichita”, I wanted to say

and smile, laugh, and wish her well on her way.

The words got caught, just about here

and filled up my eyes with something like fear.

“We’ll always have Wichita”, I wanted to say

“Remember when we met, that month before May?”

The words got caught, just about here.

It was no longer something she wanted to hear.

“We’ll always have Wichita”, I wanted to say

those nights full of passion, in every which way

The words got caught, just about here

We weren’t meant to be, that much is clear.

Hey, we’ll always have Wichita…