an open letter to any man (the world over) who may ever reject a woman:

dear man-lucky-enough-to-have-a-woman-ask-you-on-a-date: 

keep it simple. and pay homage to the deeply courageous thing she did by putting herself out there.

(1) express how deeply flattered you are and (2) simply say, no thank you.

that is all. leave it there. let it alone. even if she responds. say nothing, or if you must (and only if you must) reemphasize the above two points.

anything else that you might say--in hopes of making her feel better (or even yourself)--will inevitably be the thing she finds patronizing and upsetting. and of course, it will inevitably be the thing she replays again and again.

and then, and i can't emphasize this enough. in the days that follow: stop being so damn nice. stop being the guy she liked in the first place. it makes it that much harder.


she will like you all the more and all the less for the kindness you offer up. and she will feel crummy for not being able to meet your friendly gaze. so please don't ask or expect her to.

just a friendly piece of advice,

meg

life-slice.

i tell ya.

i am absolutely gobsmacked by broad shoulders and an expansive back.

that alone is enough to undo me.

someday i'll look back on all of this and laugh. i will laugh, yes?

i need someone to explain it to me.

that thing that happens.

when you like someone. from afar.

and suddenly you have never flirted before. never in your life.

never begun a conversation.

never dared to smile.

these things have never happened, not once. or...well, you can't imagine how they might have...ever, because they are certainly not possible now.

you are inept. in every possible way.

a mute.

inexperienced.

bereft of all courage and knowledge.

one might call me a lively conversationalist. and one might be right. i am. (occassionally). given enough time and enough courage, i most definitely am. and i can smile and toss my hair as well as the girl next to me. but in the presence of the smallest inkling of desire i am...

helpless.

and why is this? someone explain this. please, please explain this.

hands and fingers (knees and toes).

i'v been having this fantasy of late.

about having my hand held.

but it's not so simple as that.

its about the two hands cupping each other, fitting the one into the other.

but even that's not the whole of it.

it's that moment, when two strangers or two friends walk side by side and one hand makes the decision to reach for the other. when the fingers tentatively connect to skin, the slow crawl to palm, and the eventual grasp. all while the two people, now something more than strangers, something more than friends, walk together, heads up, forward-looking. it's the eventual glance down. the tightening of the grip. the passed mutual touch.

it's the transformation that such a small act demands.

yup, i've been dreaming of having my hand held. and of meeting a man courageous enough to reach. (or worth reaching for.)

variants and tentacles.

people keep asking the same two questions.

or, variants of the same two questions:

there's the first regarding acting and whether or not i'm auditioning and will i ever give it a go?

the second involves men, always, men.

am i dating? why not? do i want to date? would i like to go out with this person's brother's ex-girlfriend's cousin, twice-removed.

let me address the latter: of course i'm open to dating. but the thing is...i like (love) being single. never have i liked (loved) it more.

so i'm not worried. about acting or men. those two questions remain happily unanswered. because the long and short of it is, i don't know.

what i do know is this:

i love the feel of the heavy camera around my neck. and the scent of the sunscreen i put on my face each morning. i love watching late-spring-storms roll in across the hudson from my window.

i love that life is not easy or predictable and that each day brings new and unexpected strangeness.

this is not to say life is easy or i'm always all-together in love with it.

life has been tricky lately. there is not enough time. not enough courage in my well. i fail with words when words i most need.

but there is a sense that now--this now--is somehow sacred. that everything is on the cusp. i find i'm growing tentacles. moving outwardly with both thought and word and so living my way into innumerable answers.

i suppose what i'm saying is...i'm not worried about those two--those two questions that everyone else wants to answer.

because if i live life fully--if i live it outwardly. if i answer all the other questions, they will come along, no? sort themselves out. reveal their answers in their own time. on their own terms.

and i'll wake one morning and the response will fill me, prompting new questions--demanding new life.