Big Moves Coming

The pond in Maine that will be my private fishing pond.

My life has undergone a vast myriad of changes over the last ten years but it is finding a way to come full-circle in a way I would never have dreamed of. Over the last ten years, I’ve gotten away from writing as much of the erotic, admittedly this is much to the dismay of my fans. Let me take some time to explain that and then bring you up to speed.

Why Did I Stop Writing Erotica?

The answer is really very simple. After menopause, I’m just not as interested. *shrug* I went through the night sweats and the lack of sleep. I was on sleeping pills and was simply exhausted all of the time.

Women in my own life had let me down a lot and whether it’s because of that, or just because I’m very happy on my own, I’m not interested in relationships anymore. Sexual intimacy is not important to me and my life is full of happiness found in living life. Who knows if things will change, but I don’t really anticipate it.

I found that my life was always full of drama when I had women chasing me or I was chasing women and ultimately, I decided that it wasn’t worth it at all. I’ve never been happier.

The Future Calls

I’ve been chasing a dream of off-grid living, learning to live self-sustainably, and building my writing career in more serious places. I’ve been doing a great deal of content for websites, blogs, and ebooks that have been ghost written for others.

I’m earning more money from writing than I have ever earned before and I’m living sparingly, but independently. My bills are paid — sometimes late due to the way freelance workers often are paid — but they are paid. I’m grateful for that.

As my career has done better, I invested in ten acres of property in Maine. As this current administration has gotten more and more out of hand, I’ve wanted to be where I could have one foot out of the country as quickly as I wanted. My land is 2.47 miles from the border crossing station into Canada.

The property has a pond, a well, septic, and an old foundation from a barn and house that are no longer there. The possibilities are truly endless and I’m simply biding my time until early next summer, when I intend to take off for there.

The best part of all is that my best friend from my twenties is back in my life. He recently beat cancer and he’s determined to live some adventures, so he’s coming with me. We have two campers – each approximately 40 feet long, a propane powered generator that can produce enough power for both of us. I have solar panels and intend to add more so that the generator will only be for emergencies.

We aren’t sure how we’ll need to get the well functional, but hoping it won’t be an enormous problem that takes more than $1500-$2000 to get functional. We intend to enclose the campers and add-on rooms to them, with wood stoves for the primary source of heat, because of the condensation that propane heat can cause. The propane will be back-up heat and hot water heat, cooking, and run our refrigerators, which will allow the solar to run everything else in the campers.

Maine has very mild summers – thank God. I lived through 112-degree days this past summer without air conditioning until I finally broke down and bought a gasoline generator to run an air unit.

My plan is to build rocket thermal mass stoves and run the stove pipe around the add-in rooms, and then all the way under the campers to keep the floors warm in winter. They are arctic package campers so this is just insurance.

We plan on skirting the campers with hay, then wrapping that in chicken wire, and stucco over that. It will seal the bales to keep rodents out and prevent mold and mildew. They’ll need to be on a rock trench with vapor barrier between that and them.

In the summer, we plan to grow our own food and can it. We plan on stocking the pond with fish that can be harvested for our own use and possibly selling to any local folks who want some. It will also make for a fun place to toss a line in the water.

I plan on having goats, chickens, and rabbits. They will all provide food, milk, butter, soap, and/or money. Jake wants to raise a cow to have butchered and I’m fine with that but suggested that we do at least two, so that the second one can be sold to pay for raising the first one.

My goal is to purchase a van over the next few months to make it easier to move with three dogs and three cats. Jake will handle getting the campers onsite. He’s already closer to the property so it makes sense for him to do that.

I intend to work as I travel. I’ll be writing some travel pieces on locations I visit. Incidentally, I just had an article accepted for publication to a travel magazine and positively I’m stoked over it!

I don’t focus on LGBTQ issues because it just isn’t all of who I am. I wanted to focus on more serious work, opposed to erotica which certainly wasn’t going to be held next to Thoreau’s work, or find its way into any libraries across America. I’d like to write something that will be in a library, read many years beyond my death. That’s a goal that I am working toward.

Once I’m moved and settled in Maine, I intend to enjoy life and do some writing for the joy of writing and not for the sake of meeting deadlines and a paycheck. I am 52 and when I was 16 I told my mother that I intended to retire by 50. Never being very supportive as a general rule, she retorted, “Everyone says that, honey.” Well, I didn’t make it at 50, but I think I’m going to make it by 55. That’s the goal.

I blog at a site called Vocal more frequently than I do here. At Vocal, you may leave a tip if you like a story and I get paid per view. I have had over a quarter of a million reads here and yet I’ve accrued just $97 which they will not pay out to me until I hit $100. It’s been aggravating to me that they earn as much as they do from ads and I gain next to nothing, so I took my blogging to places that were more fair to the writer. Join me there.

My other blog is simply done under my legal name and I have also become far more comfortable being that person. I’m quite happily controlling my blood sugar, marching as a resistor, and living in my little cabin with my dogs and cats. The coffee is hot, the food is good, and life is great.

Categories: aging, lesbian, life lessons, self-help | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Today We Bury A US President

Can We Also Bury Anger With Him?

I remember the years after Ronald Reagan very well. My parents were still alive, I was young, and times were different. Times were very different then. There wasn’t access to the news at the spur of the moment because smart phones had not been invented. If you wanted to read the news, you went out and got a newspaper. You put your quarter in the machine on the corner and walked back home, past the telephone booth. In my neighborhood, you waved at the local hooker and gave a head nod to the guy across the street who you knew was selling drugs out of his house. You kept your head down and you stayed out of trouble. 

The Early Nineties

The year was 1991 and I had just moved to St Pete, FL. I was working as a waitress in a place that still required me to wear a dress and pantyhose each day. I walked to work or rode a bicycle. I had a car and it was broken down more than it ran. It stayed parked most of the time. It was a brand new Dodge and to this day I won’t own another one. 

I had moved to the coast because my parents lived in Ocala. I had not been very wild about the fact that they sold their house and followed me to FL in 1987. I considered it my mother’s final attempt at ruining my life and continuing her efforts at manipulating everything she could. Of course, she wasn’t all bad. As an adult now, I can admit this. At that time, however, I had just come out as gay and she and I were not getting along at all. 

The AIDS crisis was in full swing. Being a young lesbian, I was aware of it and was fearful of contracting it myself. Even though it predominantly was an issue that affected gay men, women were not totally safe. I read “And the Band Played On” from cover to cover and was somewhat horrified. It would be many years before that made it to the big screen. Gay people knew. We were living in it, neck deep. 

The Real Reagan Legacy

Ronald Reagan didn’t acknowledge the epidemic for what it was. It was never funded. It was, to be blunt, completely ignored. Gay men were dying at astronomical numbers. These deaths were long and painful. Most of the people I personally knew who died passed away from breathing complications – typically pneumonia. I remember one friend the most. His name was Christopher Gomez. Chris was a wonderful person. There were times that he’d see me walking home after work, or on the way to work. He would do a big U-turn in the middle of crazy 4th Street North, stopping traffic in the process, in order to pull-over and yell, “Get in, I’ll drive you!”

He was a nice person. He had dark hair, brown eyes, a pale complexion, and he was short. Chris probably didn’t stand over five feet, six inches tall. He worked as a waiter and he made good money. Like most of us in those days, he spent more on beer and having fun than anything else. We lived in neighborhoods that were seemingly small in the middle of a large city.

I had several  friends, a different life back then than the one I live now. I was more social and could more easily deal with loudness and chaotic situations. As I’ve grown older, my spectrum disorder has become increasingly a challenge. I don’t react well to intrusions into my quiet time, I do not socialize outside of the home much because the recovery time for me is lengthier than it used to be. I get grumpy if I feel intruded upon too much. It unnerves me. I do look back on those times fondly, in part because I was able to be social. People don’t realize that those on the spectrum want to be social. We just cannot be social all the time

George Herbert Walker Bush was our president in 1991. I do not remember ever hating him back then. I disliked his policies and I disliked the fact that we were at war in Iraq. The Middle East has never seemed like a place for American soldiers, in my opinion. Those people don’t like each other, and I don’t think they ever will. Why we have to get in the middle of it all the time is truly beyond me. I am 28 years older now than I was then, and I still don’t understand our constant involvement in the Middle East. It seems a never-ending circle of death for American soldiers to me. 

Times Were Hard

My mind still goes back to a time when I held the hands of dying friends, like Christopher, with tears in their eyes, knowing there was absolutely nothing that could be done. Watching someone die, resigned to their fate, is a very difficult thing to when that person hasn’t led a full life. You mourn the years that should have been.You wonder whose lives they should have touched, the loves they should have had. . . 

What was extremely troubling, and has haunted the legacy of President GHW Bush, was his continuation of the Reagan administration’s neglect of the AIDS crisis. So many in the LGBTQ community hold them personally responsible for the deaths of countless people in our community. As recently as a year ago I was accused of being a single-issue voter, which I’m not and never have been. The accusation was because of my concern over gay rights issues. That just happens to be a life or death thing for me! As is healthcare. As is social security being there when I am 67 years old one day. As is the housing crisis. As is gerrymandering and voting problems, lobbying, term limits, and a nauseating list I don’t want to focus on at this moment.

I digress. The AIDS crisis is still held against the senior Bush. I have recently seen many people bring this up the last two days. I’ve seen some very hateful things said and shared on social media. I’d be a liar if I said that it didn’t make me sad because it makes me weep for the society we have become. We are just very hateful now! 

Human beings are imperfect. Our special qualities have always been in our ability to forgive, to love, and to understand that none of us is perfect. We all struggle with our demons and we all make mistakes. Some of us make bigger mistakes than others. What I base my judgements of people on is whether or not they intended to harm others. I also look at whether or not the individual has done anything to redeem themselves. 

Should Four Years Determine Your Legacy?

The patriarch of the Bush family has left behind a legacy of charity work that most of us will never achieve. George HW Bush worked in every way he could to do bipartisan work with Bill Clinton, to bring humanitarian aid to others. He supported and founded the Bush Clinton Coastal Recovery Fund. He also supported the following charities: Covenant House, FC Harlem, Heifer International, Save the Children, Smile Train, United Nations Development Program, and the Vijay Amritraj Foundation.

President Bush was a man who could reach across aisles and do what he thought was best for the country. He lied about his age so that he could fight for his country. He is guilty of imperfection. Aren’t we all? Has he fully made up for the lives lost to AIDS? I’m not sure that he could ever have done that. Is it so hard to believe that in the early days of AIDS many people made bad decisions? They did. It caused a loss of life greater than what it probably should have been. Is the man responsible or was it the era that we lived in? We have learned more and we have moved on. Have we not?

I can tell you that Christopher would say that ‘the guy did a lot of great things the rest of his life. He made his peace with his own God.’ Forgiveness is the only way forward. Today, I’m making the choice to forgive him and move on. While we shouldn’t use our current administration to normalize anything, I do believe that it certainly must be a basis for clarity.

We can say a lot of good things about the senior Bush. We can say that he was a man who made mistakes but tried to do much that was right with is life. We can say that he was a sensitive man, a family man who loved his children and his grandchildren. He was one of the last truly moderate Republicans who could listen and work with democrats. He was from an era that wasn’t all that bad, even though it wasn’t totally good. 

The older I get, the more I want peace. I have learned to pick and choose my battles and I’ve learned when to forgive. This is a case that I will choose the latter and show my respect to a man who gave most of his life in service to his country. An honorable member of the armed forces, he never shirked his duties. He knew what decorum meant. Even in death, there is a calm, quiet dignity that we are not accustomed to anymore. I can welcome this return to tradition and values today, with my hand over my heart. 

“Thank-you for your service, Mr. President.”

Categories: aging, American government, death, equal rights, gay lesbian, lesbian, life lessons, love, Politics | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Is Transitioning Becoming Too Easy?



I realize that this may be a touchy subject, so I’m going to make it clear right away that I mean no disrespect to anyone.  It isn’t really my style to purposely hurt anyone or to judge anyone. My intention right now is to delve into a topic of discussion that I’ve had recently with a few people close to me.

As a butch woman, I have to deal with a great deal of prejudice from a lot of people. The direction from which this prejudice comes is sometimes astonishing to me. Other lesbians who are more of a feminine persuasion and are attracted to the same type of feminine woman have a tendency to talk to me like I’m dirt sometimes. They do not understand me and often go out of their way to say things like, “you are just trying to be a man” or “if I wanted to be with a man, I’d choose a man” and so on and so on. I’m not going to get into all the things that being butch means, but it certainly does not mean that I want to be a man. I consider myself to be a combination of masculine and feminine energy that compliment each other in ways that bless me in my life. I feel that I’m lucky to be me.

I’ve grown to believe that sexuality is a very fluid thing.  I believe that we are all capable of loving men or women, regardless of who we are. We may never act on it, but I honestly believe that many people would if they hadn’t already been taught by society that it is somehow “wrong” to do so. I also believe that this early programming has seriously affected lesbians in many ways. Sexuality simply cannot be placed into a box of choice.

I believe that many years ago, lesbians thought that they had to give-up their femininity in order to be gay. It was almost expected that women act more masculine in those days because they were a lesbian; society had a vision of what a lesbian was and that was anything but feminine. Many women felt they had to give-up dreams of having children or families in order to live up to some sort of ideal. Only in the last twenty to thirty years are we realizing that we don’t have to choose one or the other. We can be lesbians and be parents. We can paint our nails, wear heels or we can wear jeans and a ball cap. We truly can have it all.

As we (lesbians) have evolved, there seems to have become some sort of a split with many sub-groups. There are now so many labels that I personally cannot keep up with them and I certainly imagine that heterosexuals are confused as well. Being butch, I’m noticing that more and more butch women are gravitating towards transitioning from female to male in larger numbers than ever. I notice that there is a rise in interest in binding, top surgery and a desire to even mimic male behavior patterns more so than ever before. I’m a little puzzled by this because I’ve always been proud to be lesbian and even more proud to be butch. I’ve always felt that I was better than men because I could embrace the masculine while having the brains to know better behavior. I am comfortable with my masculine nature but I am also very comfortable to be a woman underneath it all. I embrace my softer side; the part of me that enjoys cuddling and having a good cry from time to time. I feel that I have managed to take the best of both worlds – male and female – and make them uniquely my own. I believe in respecting women, holding the door for them, getting the chair for them and holding them in only the way a butch woman can. I also believe that it’s okay for me to cry, be soft and enjoy putting my head on someone’s shoulder sometimes and showing my vulnerability. This makes me feel whole.

My concern is that because transitioning is so easy to do now (and so common) that it may just be too easy. Just like Botox and boob jobs, people now think nothing of taking “T” and growing a beard. Honestly, I’m concerned that someone in their twenties is not fully equipped to make this decision. Before some of you get your boxers in a bunch and tell me that the difference is that you see yourself as a guy in the mirror, let me cut you off and tell you that there was a time that I did too.

You see, when I was much younger I considered whether or not that the choice to transition would be right for me. I didn’t take it lightly and I went through a phase where I probably had “penis envy” in a way. I used to think that I was in the wrong body but not because I truly felt that way on my own – society was making me feel that way. I am saying that I was slowly conditioned to look at myself the way others did…I had short hair and I had big hands and feet. People assumed I was a man and still do. I’m often called “sir” out in public. The fact is that it doesn’t bother me. I am secretly pleased to know I am a female underneath it all. By the time I was in my thirties I had come to a point where I learned to like myself exactly as I was.

I think all human beings go through this phase, but because it has become so popular to blame our sexuality for unhappiness, many butch lesbians think that transitioning will make them happy or whole. I’m not entirely convinced that this is the case for most. That said, there are people who honestly do need to transition in order to live a whole life;  they are truly mentally the opposite sex. I’m not disavowing anyone here. I just wonder if it has gotten too easy, like taking Xanax instead learning to deal with your life? Has transitioning become the latest plastic surgery fad and is it being done because doctors see it as a way to make a lot of money? Are we making it too “cool” to do?

I worry that fewer and fewer women live as butch because they don’t see that as a viable option anymore. Pressure from society and from those we might hear referred to as “lipstick lesbians” make us feel unwanted by our own community at times. Is this what makes us feel that the only option is to conform to what the world thinks we should be? I wonder where are the proud butch women now? It seems they are being replaced by a younger generations of “bois” and female to males in transition. I’m concerned if this is because we are placing too much pressure on young butches, making them feel that they need to be something other than what they are. I’d love to hear comments from others on this.

Again, I stress that I am not in any way trying to talk bad about those who choose to transition. I’ve always been very supportive and have friends who are in transition and are fully transitioned. I just feel that this is a valid argument that needs to be discussed and I wonder if we need to be having this discussion more openly rather than just automatically telling our friends to go ahead and transition?

A friend of mine has a friend who is in the hospital right now, possibly dying from an infection that is the result of a compromised immune system – a side effect of transition and hormone replacement therapy. This happens in some cases, as well as other medical complications. There are also many other things to consider, such as never being able to afford bottom surgery – which is also not perfected yet. Someone may start the transition and never fully complete it for many reasons. Personally, I could not handle being in this sort of sexual limbo or giving up sexual satisfaction…which is the case most of the time. I’d really like to hear the opinions of my readers on this. Please, keep it respectful as people from all walks of life read this blog. Thanks!

Categories: equal rights, gay lesbian, lesbian | Tags: , , , , | 30 Comments

Tell Me What You Want To Hear


Original Art by Julia Miller Title of piece, "Winter Love" Clicking image takes you to her page.

Original Art by Julia Miller Title of piece, “Winter Love” Clicking image takes you to her page.


Three years ago, we met online; introduced by a mutual friend. You were married and I didn’t talk to you with any intention of being anything more than just your friend. We hit it right off and talked and talked. You, being much younger than me, often made references to things I didn’t understand and I’d have to ask you to explain. Conversely, you’d chide me for using a ‘big word’ and I’d chuckle at you. There’s something about you that is whimsical, silly and so very adorable that it’s hard not to be taken in. You are a delightful person; somehow innocent and yet so exposed to some of the worst parts of life. You started to make my heart smile.

We saw each other several times over that summer. You came to my house first. We watched a movie, had pizza and just talked. You would later inform me that you were extremely confused and went home to tell your sister that, “she didn’t even try to touch me.” That’s true. I was still thinking things over. By the time I had thought it over and decided how I felt, I was already neck deep. I found myself checking in on you, trying to make sure you knew that I was there and I would be your out. A few times, I came to your rescue… like the night you cried on my shoulder and confessed your secrets to. Then there was the time you called me in the middle of the night and I jumped up and came to your rescue. You were scared and I was the only one you could turn to. You slept on top of me that night, on the sofa. You refused to move, to sleep in the bed or let me move – you clung to me with white fingers. I just held you.

It was still a few weeks before I would get the nerve to kiss you. It wasn’t that I was afraid of you. I was afraid of me. I was afraid of the way it felt and all the mess it meant. You still were married and you weren’t leaving. One day you were, the next day you weren’t. I didn’t understand everything and I surely didn’t know just how bad things were. I’m sorry. I walked away and you would later tell me, “you just walked away….and things got much worse for me after you left.”

Two years later you found me. I had changed my name, moved five states away and was going through my own hell at the time… and you found me. You told me, “I never really let you go … but you left. You ran. Not just to another city. You went half the country away. What’s up with that?” All I could do was laugh. You may be young, but you are wise and when you are right – you’re right. I’ll hand that one to you.

So we talked and talked. I made plans to come back and see you. After I got back, you dropped the bombshell on me that your ex was still involved in your life and that you couldn’t get away to see me. You didn’t want to rock the boat, cause troubles, risk more of the same abuse, etc. I admit that I finally blew my cool. I admit that I didn’t have much patience and that I take some of the things you’ve done too personally. Standing outside of it, I know that it was less about me and more about you and what you had to do. I won’t change my statement to you that it “just hurt” and it really did. I walked again. I would have been here if you needed me, but you never needed anyone. Stubborn. I know…pot calling the kettle black.

A few months passed this time. You contacted me to see if I’d calmed down any. I blew my stack. Yeah…no…not calmed down yet. You backed away again. You didn’t wait months this time. A few weeks passed and you reached out once more and asked if I was ready to talk. You said that you thought we could talk and work this all out. I was still angry. One of my best friends finally said to me, “You know…she keeps trying. She must really care about you? It really is very easy to take things out of context when you are strictly texting and emailing…and that’s all you guys could do at the time. Maybe you should give her the benefit of the doubt? I mean…she isn’t waiting two years this time?”

What could I say to that? It was true. I’ve thought about things a lot. I’ve had about five months to think about this. Sometimes we just have to make a decision. I’ve spent most of my life sitting on a fence post, observing both sides of the fence and never committing to anything fully. Oh…I’ve told you that I loved you…but there is so much more to it. So what do you want to hear?

Maybe I should tell you that for all my talk about going here and going there, it would only take one word from you to change all my plans – “stay.”

Maybe I should tell you that for all the times I’ve told anyone I loved them, I never stuck around for anybody. Ask any of them…they’ll all tell you that I left and I didn’t come back. You’re the only one who got that from me. I came back for you. I’ve been waiting for you to choose me. Do you need to hear me ask? Can we ever get past first base?

Should I tell you that every dream you ever told me about made me want to be right there with you? Do you need me to tell you that you move me to tears over and over because I feel you on a level that I don’t ever let anyone else into?Honey, I’d raise your babies. I’d feed your horses and I’d stay for the rest of my forever if you’d just decide that I was the one you wanted once and for all, end of story. Stop the confusion. I can’t commit myself to a moving target. Stop chasing me and then running. If you want me, I’m right here and I’ve been right here this whole time. I’m not getting any younger. Haven’t we wasted enough time? What do you want to hear?

Categories: lesbian, life lessons, love | Tags: , , | 3 Comments

Today Marks a Year Here For Me! THANK-YOU ALL!




One year ago, today, I posted my first blog here. I started as a means to promote a book but it grew to be far more than that. At this very time, a year ago, I was dating someone. She was a nice enough person, but she was dry, spent far too much free time watching television and she didn’t have the same world views as I did. I used this blog to begin expressing all the emotions – the ups and the downs – that I felt.

The day I really knew Laura and I weren’t suited for each other, she called me from downtown Ft Myers. She had gone to meet friends for a walk/jog after work. She finished first and was sitting on a bench waiting for the others and talking to me on the phone. She had gotten a pizza slice at a street vendor in the area. She didn’t like the area of town and was complaining to me about how unsafe she felt. A man came and sat next to her, on the bench and she became totally freaked-out and informed that he was probably homeless and she could feel her skin crawling. I finally said to her, “Maybe he just wanted a slice of pizza because he was hungry?” S I L E N C E. She thought I was nuts and I thought she was out of touch.

Here I am, 365 days later. I’m free and single, 1500 miles away from where I was. I’m now in Illinois, but I am planning a return to Florida in the winter. I’m thinking of making it my permanent home again, but I’m playing it by ear – as I always do. I’ve learned to do what feels right in my gut. It’s sort of a “I’ll know when I get there” sort of thing for me.

At any rate, I’ve met some truly amazing people over the last year. I’ve met writers, hitchhikers, homeless people, truck drivers, and made friends on Facebook with people from all over the world. I have people in my life that I’ve know for forty years and people that I’ve never met in person  – and they all touch me in wonderful ways.

In the last year, this blog has received fifty-eight THOUSAND page views. I’ve posted one-hundred twenty-one blogs which have received six-HUNDRED fourteen comments. I’ve gained seven-hundred  fans to my Facebook fan page, two-thousand four hundred blog subscribers, published ten books, traveled in five states, dated one person but broke-up with two , put two thousand miles on my RV and I lost my dog. Through it all, you guys have been there. Some of you have been there the whole year and some of you just hopped on this train. Let me warn you newbies, it’s fast moving sometimes!

This all humbles me very much and it makes me smile. I never thought in a million years that I would have come so far in a year. I simply wanted to do what made me happy. I’ve always been a drifter and I’ve never been one to work anywhere at a j.o.b. for long. I get bored with that sort of stuff. Writing allows me to use my imagination. Fiction work is a way that I can escape reality and use my artistic side. Non-fiction work gives my inquisitive side a reason to learn more about the topics that interest me. I truly get the best of everything as a writer.

My friend’s four-year old is at that stage where he asks about everything. When he asks, “what is compost?” and then follows it up with, “why?” I can answer him. Sometimes he asks me things like, “How do combines work?” I do my best to answer him in ways that he can understand but are truly informational. I don’t believe in talking down to children if it can be helped. He once looked at me and asked, “How do you know so much?” *insert HUGE smile* I took the opportunity to tell him that school played a large part in it (because he also doesn’t like school very much yet) and then I followed with, “I’m writer, that’s just what I do. I put things into words so that other people can learn about things too.” He smiled and paused before the onslaught of questions started again. I love that he asks questions. It reminds me to stop and look at the world through his eyes sometimes. Children can give you a very unique perspective.

For all these things, I’m thankful. I am thankful for the people who remind me that a writer sees the world from a different view than others do. An artist looks at a flower and pictures it on canvas. A photographer sees things in still frames. I see the story in everything. Words are my paint and my laptop is my brush. I don’t strive for perfection, only the satisfaction of telling the story. Today, I thank YOU for allowing me to tell my stories. I value your input, your comments, your thoughts and reflections on my work. and when you tell me that something I have written has helped you in some way. I treasure the emails from fans who tell me that I’ve helped them with a struggle or that I’ve put something into words when they could not.

Thanks for making it a wonderful year of growing, learning and sharing. I hope the next year is filled with much more of the same for all of us.

~ Jesse

My latest non-fiction was published yesterday.  “Incredible Edibles – Field Guide To Free Food. Please, check it out. 


Also, the follow-up book to “Twisted: Flashbacks” will be coming out soon. If you have not yet read the original, you can pick-up your copy here. This is a fiction novella with a follow-up novel coming very soon!



Categories: erotica, lesbian, life lessons, love, self-help | Tags: , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Dear Child, It Is A Mad World …

I have spent most of my life believing that everything happens for a reason, though not ever really applying it to my life in a way that made any difference. It has only been in the last few years that I have started to awake from a deep sleep.

Today, I want to unload some feelings that are very heavy and I have carried them around for a long, long time and I have never written about it or tried to tell it any detail. It’s time….

I was twenty-two when I met your mother. She was exciting and unlike anyone I had ever known. I was smitten with her from the first time I saw her and as I got to know her, as a friend. I gradually fell in love with her. In time, she and I were together but the situation soon became very complicated.

She awoke with a painful case of the shingles one morning. She asked me to drive her to the hospital because she was in so much pain. We went and she was eventually taken back to be seen. I sat in the waiting room for many hours, wondering what in the world was wrong that she needed to be there for so long. Eventually a guy came out from the back and told me, “She’s a little upset and hasn’t wanted to come out to see you…but she’ll be out soon, okay?”

My first thought was that something was seriously wrong and I was, of course, worried. He didn’t tell me what was going on. Eventually she came out and said, “Let’s go.” It wasn’t until we were outside, in that beat-up old VW Bus that had taken us on many excursions already, including the most amazing New Year’s Eve. As she put the key in the ignition, she didn’t look at me and blurted out, “I’m pregnant.” Then she just sat there, waiting for my response. I was not quite twenty-three years of age – just a little older than you are now – and I have no idea why I reacted the way I did … but I always saw you as a blessing. All I could do was smile.

Your mother said to me, “Are you shitting me? You’re HAPPY aren’t you??” At this point I started to laugh out loud.

I remember how I played with my shoe laces and didn’t really look at her, because I was summoning something up from deep inside me when I asked her a serious of questions. “Do you ever see yourself with another man?”


“Then this might be your last chance to have a child. Do you want this baby?”

With tears in her eyes and a frog in her throat, “Yes.”

“Then it looks like we’re having a baby?”

It turned-out that when she had moved in with me, she had already been one month pregnant. The months that followed were strange, mad, somewhat insane and more beautiful than any other days of my life…

I was in love with your mom and nothing about her being pregnant changed that. In fact, I thought she was even more beautiful and I admired her strength and courage, as a woman. As her body changed, there were days that she was horrified at the things she saw going on in the mirror. Still, she had the same warped sense of humor then that she does now and I am sure that you grew-up with. For example, there was the time she screamed from the shower, “Dawn…DAWN! Come here!” I raced into the bathroom thinking something was wrong. No…she just wanted to show me that she could squirt me with breast milk from the shower.  I told you it was warped. It sent me running from the bathroom, squealing in disgust,  as she could be heard laughing through-out the apartment.

We conquered the beach all summer long, as her belly grew large. Once, while she floated on an inner tube and I floated along with her treading water, we found ourselves having drifted quite far out. In a very calm voice, your mother said to me, “Now…I do not want you to panic. I grew-up along the beach, so I am used to this … but I want you to very slowly look to your left and STOP splashing.” I looked and to my absolute horror, there was a shark circling us that was about six feet long. This Illinois farm girl was about to get up and walk like Jesus on the water. “Do you want to get up here on the inner tube with me?”

“Hell no. I’ll flip you out of it and then we’ll both be shark bait!”

“Well, then why don’t you just float up underneath the inner tube and we’ll let the tide take us in?” I did as she told me. We floated along for what seemed like forever. By the time we got halfway back to shore there were two – another smaller shark had joined in on the fun. I was never  so glad to get my feet on terra firma! Your mother sauntered along like it was just another day, well … at the beach. You had no choice to grow-up strong.

As the weeks passed by, we would lay in the floor of my apartment and I would lay my head on her stomach and talk to you. I could lay my hand on her stomach and you would move to wherever I rested my palm and kick and kick. You earned the nickname of “Thumper” before your name was chosen.

So many times, she would come to my door upset and just frustrated. I’d pull her in and calm her down. We would lay for hours and listen to music and talk. We talked about life, music, and most of all we talked about you. We talked about where you would go to school and we wondered what you would be like. We had hopes for you, as all parents do. At some point, your mom began working on a birth plan. She wrote and rewrote. She added, deleted and prepared a plan that would need to be bound because it was so detailed. I loved her spirit and admired her ability to take charge of any situation – even if it meant telling a doctor how to do their job. To this day, I probably find it to be one of her most endearing qualities … her fighting spirit. Your mother was never one to ‘go with the flow’ when she had other ideas. I’m guessing you probably know that by now?

When the day finally came for you to enter the world, we were all at the hospital. I never left your mom’s side for the entire twenty-three hours that she was in labor. The delivery was not easy on her and I cried for her pain many times. She refused to bring you into the world while she was on pain meds. She was bound and determined that you would be born naturally. Eighteen hours in, the doctor had other ideas. Eventually, she relented to the epidural because it was that or a C-section.

When your head crowned, I could see your little dark curls. You had a head full of hair already! asked your father, “Jim, she has your hair. Wanna see?”

His response was comical. He very somberly stated, “Some things are better left to women.”

The doctor asked me if I wanted to cut the cord and I was going to but at the last second she asked your mother to not push. I was shoulder to shoulder with the doctor at this point and I could see the reason. The cord was around your little neck, not once but twice. Once again, you were proving that you were already going to be doing things your way. The doctor prepared and apologized to me that she needed to act quickly. Your mother was told to push one last time and the doctor pulled you by the shoulders, slipped her thumb under that cord and unwound it twice, pulled you free and laid you on top of your mother’s belly … all in less than two seconds.

I was mesmerized instantly. A little china doll. That was all I could think. Your little eyes opened and you looked in my direction, probably because you recognized my voice when I cried, “She’s beautiful.” I think we were all in tears. Your mother was busy counting toes and fingers. Your father looked as though he was going to pass-out. I remember your mom saying, “Hello there … hello, Amelia.”

The months that followed were some of the most wonderful days of my life. When I looked at you, I saw your mother. You always had her eyes, from the moment you opened them the first time. You were part  of her and I always saw you as just another part of her that I loved. There was a rocking chair that your mom had found when she was pregnant. I had spent hours fixing it up, painting it and putting a new cushion on it so that there was a way to rock you when you were born. I learned two things about you in the hours that you and I spent alone. The first, you loved music and I could always sing to you and calm you. We had two special songs. I sang “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” to you and we had a special song from Cinderella that I would sing sometimes. Some of my favorite memories are of you laying your head on my shoulder and falling asleep. You were such a good baby.

When you were about five months old, I started carting you around the house in a Snuggli and you came with me to do laundry, mow the yard, mop the floor and vacuum. You and I road the city bus to go shopping at the mall to buy a surprise for your mom. We went to the park and fed ducks. You mother and I took you to the beach and you would sit in a little pool of water that she would rake the sand out of so the waves would keep you filled-up. You would sit and play for hours. That little unruly curl on top of your head would blow in the breeze and we would sit and watch you and just enjoy watching you discover your world.

There were rough mornings when you were up all night. We would stagger to the kitchen and wait for the  coffee maker. It was a Melita. I remember that coffee maker well because she was obsessed with how good it was and I often had to listen to her wax poetic about the absolute genius of a cone shaped filter. I remember being out of milk and creamer once, so we tried formula. You are not a ‘real’ parent until you have tried infant formula in your coffee. In case you are wondering – not good.

Your mother had never changed a diaper in her life and neither had your father. Sometimes, it took two people … like the time I heard the shriek from the bedroom. I walked in to find your mom shaking her head and saying, “There is no baby wipe in the world that is gonna handle this!” We decided to have one carry you, with diaper hanging, and just run to the bathroom, where one of us held you and the other hosed you off. It worked out just fine and from what I understand, you got used to things being a little like ‘the path less chosen’ your whole life? That’s good!

When I left St Pete, it was for a whole lot of reasons and the one thing I am sure of is that it wasn’t because of you. If there is one thing that I could tell you, it would be that you were never far from my thoughts in the last twenty years. I prayed for your safety and for your happiness. I haven’t held a baby in all these years that my heart didn’t ache for you and those days when I was so happy. To this day, I remember exactly how you smelled after a bath.

Many times I have searched the internet for your name, just to see how you were doing and if you were okay. I never would try to interfere with your life because you really never knew me, yet you have always been very much a part of me. I left a little of my soul in St Pete and I am so glad that I found your mother and she and I talk again. It has been an emotional roller coaster ride for me though … so many bitter sweet memories, feelings of jealousy for all the things I missed and knowing that it had to be the way that it was. Your mom beams with pride that I can literally feel over the phone. I hear about your accomplishments and stories about your childhood. While it is a hard pill to swallow for me, knowing that I wasn’t there, I find myself also very proud of you and also of your mother. She has changed a lot for the better. I think that was you. So I can’t do anything about the last twenty years, but I can do so much about tomorrow and I make my choices today. Just know that I never really left you behind because you BOTH always had my heart; it was with you both each and every day.  That is all I really want you to know.


Categories: lesbian, life lessons, love, Uncategorized | 6 Comments

A Little Sex With My Coffee, Please


My eyes took in every detail of her, as she stood in the kitchen. The morning sun was shining through the door as she carefully spooned the coffee into the filter that would soon be brewing and sending the robust aroma through the entire apartment. I love moments like these, snapshots in time. No details pass me by. Her hair glistened from the rays of sunlight that highlighted the right side of her face. With her hair up, I could see the short, fine hairs that rested against her neck in unruly fashion. I loved her in the mornings, when her hair was disheveled and her eyes were half closed.

Stepping forward, I reached my arms around her and kissed the back of her neck. There was no reason to, yet there were I million reasons why I did – none of which I could ever put into words. Touching her was ecstatic for me. It was as if my skin and hers melded together, knowing that they were of the same stardust and when our molecules combined the result was goosebumps, fireworks and absolute passion. She sighed and leaned back against me, rubbing my forearms with her hands. I watched her arms as they moved. She had soft, blonde hair on her arms and the way her muscles moved was fascinating for me to watch. Her arms and hands were sensual and attractive to me. I often watched her movements in everything that she did. I was mesmerized by her arms and hands and I’d stand and watch her put on her make-up sometimes, just to watch her hands. They were graceful, strong and artistic. When her hand was in mine, I could never stop smiling at how tiny they were in comparison, yet they were not weak in any way. Her hands showed their years of labor and wisdom gained, yet they remained delicate and dignified to me. I loved them most when they were on my naked body, doing the most dirty of things.

My right hand reached underneath her loose top and found her bare breast. She immediately grew hard against my fingertips. Softly, she moaned and I could see her smile. Her back arched against me – an invitation to take what I wanted. I continued to kiss her neck and my other hand made its way underneath her top so that I now had both breasts in my hands. She continued to run her soft hands up and down my forearms, moaning louder now. I nibbled at her ear and softly whispered to her, “I want you right here and now.”

With this, she turned to face me and our lips met in a long, slow and seductive kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that lovers share when they know they are about to embark on a journey of passion. It was that kiss that said, “my body and my soul are yours, take me.”

My hands wandered up and down the small of her back as our lips played-out their own seduction. I could feel her breasts against me and wanted to feel them in my mouth desperately. Slowly I began to playfully tug at her top to pull it up. She stepped back and helped me by raising her arms as I lifted it up and over her head, right there in the kitchen. Naked to the waist now, the only thing she had left on her body was a pair of lace panties. I was in a fever as I pulled her close to me and kissed her again. My hands quickly found her breasts again and began teasing, twisting and gently tugging at her nipples until they were so hard they could have cut glass. Her moaning drove my passion to such a high that it felt as if I’d be consumed by my own flames.

Taking her left nipple in my mouth, I felt her body tense and rise to meet me. I head her gasp, then cry out, “oh…God!” I could smell her passion now and I knew that she was soaking wet in those lace panties. I fought the urge to touch her there though, knowing that the longer I waited the more intense would be her explosion for me later. I switched to her other breast and continued to massage, caress and lovingly touch the rest of her body with my hands. My fingers stroked her shoulders, arms, back, ribs, hips and cupped the cheeks of her ass while I sucked and nibbled at both of her breasts until she was completely weak in the knees.

Slowly and softly I began to run my fingers under the band of her panties….back and forth….back and forth. Each time, I stroked my fingers a little deeper until I was nearly touching her lips and my fingers played with her hair, stroking and exploring. I could feel her hands on my back, digging in and her body trembling as I came closer and closer to her flame. Finally, my middle finger parted her lips and I could feel her flood. She grasped my shoulders hard now and pushed to lean back, looking directly into my eyes. As my eyes met hers, in a show of domination, I chose that moment to penetrate her with my fingers….watching her face for the reaction. Her mouth opened and she gasped but she remained in my gaze, never looking away. I stroked her, then pulled out to play with her clit before I let my fingers dip inside her again and simply stretch and play with her. I knew I was making her crazy when she lifted her leg to wrap it around my hip. She was opening herself wider for what she wanted, hoping that I’d get her physical hint.

I withdrew my hand long enough to move her leg back to the floor, quickly strip her panties all the way off and then lift her to the kitchen counter. “Take this off,” she beseeched me to remove my shirt, so that she could feel my skin against her own. Our bodies against each other was a heaven like no other. I bent my head between her legs and took her to a place inside her own mind. I watched her close her eyes and tilt her head back as she moaned, groaned, grunted and rubbed herself against me hard. She was riding my lips and my mouth was swallowing her soft, saltiness as fast as I could. I didn’t want to miss a single drop of her body’s ecstasy. I knew she was close and I wanted her to come to me with a fury. I moved my head to the side and I entered her with my hand, pushing and stretching until I was deep inside her. She screamed now, a scream that relished the slight pain in exchange for the intensity of the pleasure she was feeling. My lips again devoured her and my tongue lashed back and forth, ’round and ’round as my hand stroked her faster and faster. Her hips were moving to meet my thrusts and her cries grew louder and louder until finally she shrieked, paused and shuddered. I felt the ripple down my arm and felt the warmth of her orgasm as she continued to shake and spasm for several minutes. I held still, other than my free hand that stroked her hip and her thigh. She played with my hair and softly whispered things I could barely hear…but I understood.  When she was ready, I pulled myself free and I stood to hold her, wrapping my arms around her tightly and trying not to touch her hair with my very wet hand.

Softly, she giggled to me, “Ready for that cup of coffee yet?”

Categories: erotica, gay lesbian, lesbian, love | Tags: , , , , | 3 Comments

Life Has A Way of Humbling Us, Why Fight It?


Know what is humbling? Logging into your blog for the first time in almost two months and seeing that you are still averaging almost 200 readers per day and that you have surpassed the 50,000 hits that you had initially hoped for in your wildest dreams – and it isn’t quite yet a year! THANK YOU!

You all know that I write about life and that can be so many things! My readers tell me that what they find most endearing is the way I let people in and share how I really feel in the most raw way possible. I don’t hold back … even when it doesn’t paint me in the greatest of lights. Life has humbled me to the point that I just don’t feel a need to try to look good. I’d rather be myself, in all my screwed-up glory. I’m imperfect. Ask all three credit bureaus. I’m honestly thinking of contacting Guinness Book of records to see if I may just have the lowest credit score in the nation. Seriously. That bad. In the words of a four year old that I love very much, “Guess what?? NOBODY CARES!!” (followed by MUCH giggling) Joshua indeed has his own unique way of looking at the world and it is amazing what you can learn from children. Keep it simple. Focus on what is in front of you. Don’t get hung-up in details. If you can get someone else to do it, that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about. Keep asking for what you want until someone gives it to you. The word ‘no’ has little meaning if you choose to ignore it. Yep…that’s wisdom right there, folks.

I’m sorry that I’ve been out of touch and away from my usual posts. I’ve had a LOT of emotional things going on and I don’t really talk these things out. I stew on them. I let them sink in. I allow pain to seep into my veins and turn the blood of my soul from red to black from time to time. Once all the sludge turns to goo, it is time to sit, write and let it all out. That’s the way I work – it’s how I roll. Now I can breathe again and let that oxygen flow and cleanse me, from the deepest recesses of all that is me!

I don’t believe that one single minute of any day is wasted. Even if I choose to just sit or nap all day, that is not a wasted day! Rejuvenating the spirit, the soul, having time to think and learn and take a look at our progress is important. I’m always reminded of a line from an Indigo Girls song, “…every five years or so I look back on my  life and I have a good laugh…”. That is important. We are new people each day. You are not the same person that you were yesterday. You have new cells, your are chemically not exactly the same because it fluctuates and your thoughts today are not exactly the same as yesterday. We are in a constant state of flux. That is life. If things didn’t change, then we wouldn’t be growing.

Did I mention that I’m 45 now? Yep…I had a birthday! Nothing like a birthday to remind you that your body is getting older and more worn out. Thinking I need some maintenance. Where to start? For one thing, I gave up soda (or ‘pop’ when I’m here at home in Illinois). Would you believe that my vision is clearing up? It is! I don’t need bifocals to see my computer or to read! I’ve been drinking over a gallon of water, with grape juice, each day for several days and I am sitting here typing away without reading glasses on! Amazing. My joints are day to day. My shoulder is feeling much better since stopping the Diet Dew too. I’m beginning to think that there is more to that stuff being poison than I ever realized and from now on I am going to envision a skull and crossbones on a bottle of it and think of it as drinking rat poison!!

Now…how do I heal my soul? I’m gonna lay it all out for you. Jo hurt me a lot. She lied to me in ways that I honestly trusted her not to. I flat-out asked her to promise me that she’d not play with my feelings when we first started talking again. She did anyway and while it hurt me extremely deeply and I’ve needed much time to heal, I’m out on the other side of it and I feel good again. The biggest thing is that I forgive her and I realize that I need to follow my own blog! Somewhere along the line I wrote that ‘people only love you as much as they can’ and I got that line from Laura. Laura is the woman I went to Florida for last year. Wow. She must have been telling me a lot about herself when she said that. I forgive Laura too. Even though I spent three days in a hospital, scared and in tears a time or two and she never visited me once, I forgive her. I hope she forgives me for not being able to be the person she needed me to be. Her idea of my life and my idea of my life were two very different things. I’m not cut-out for living in a house with someone, being tied down to bills, routines and time clocks. It just isn’t going to happen. She kept telling me that she was waiting for my life to ‘settle down’ and I kept waiting for her to love me as I was. Two different people, two different paths and it took me realizing that it wasn’t meant and it wasn’t going to happen. That didn’t mean I didn’t care for her…anymore that it means I don’t still care for Jo. I do. I don’t turn-off feelings and emotions for people that meant something to me. People think I do, because I walk away but that isn’t true at all. I simply put myself first. I have a conscious and sometimes it gets the best of me, keeps me up at night and makes want to sit down and write an email and just say hello. I’m getting better at not sending them.

I’ve been talking to my ex from twenty years ago. It is a long story and I’m not going to get into it all again. Ellen is the one person in my life that I have held onto all these years and wanted to talk to again. There was a Karmic connection and a reason to contact again. She’s grown. She’s different in a lot of ways … and in some ways she’s the same and she knows I know. <insert smile here> You see, the part of me that has grown is the part that no longer needs to force someone into a mold that I think is ‘right’ or ‘correct’ in some way. I do not judge and I don’t begrudge anyone living their life and following their path the way that they need to. I know how to keep a safe distance now. Fact is, I honestly LIKE Ellen. She’s funny, witty, smart, charming when she wants to be, sassy as hell (which I always admired – even when it was directed at me) and she is one of the most resourceful people I’ve ever known. I ADMIRE her … even when she doesn’t admire herself. Fact is, she is one of the few people I was ever involved with who has grown and I don’t mind her in my life again, because I don’t feel that it is a step backwards in any way. I feel like we’ve both grown forward and we just aren’t the same people anymore. Does this make sense? I don’t mind saying this, knowing that she’ll read it, but I still love her. I always have and I always held everyone else in all these years up to her as a comparison…which wasn’t fair to them and a hell of a lot to live up to…but it’s true. For what it’s worth, I’m not afraid to admit that. I believe that coming to terms with things in our lives is very much about being truthful and honest, with OURSELVES as much as with others. So, I admit it, I never got over her and I don’t truly know why. I just didn’t. I admitted to someone that I lived with for six years that if Ellen had shown-up knocking on my door and wanting to get back together, that I’d have left with her. Sad huh? I mean, I feel terrible that I SAID that … but it was the honest truth. That was EIGHT years after we hadn’t been together too. Strange to say it, but the only thing I ever believed in was her and I’m SO proud that she raised Amelia and made it when all the chips were down. Against all odds, she survived. I know it wasn’t probably pretty and it wasn’t easy or perfect by any means…but she did it and I’m honestly so proud of her and I really want her to know that, because I mean it so much. It was only when I moved into this RV that I threw away a lot of things from my past because I knew that clinging to the past is not the right thing to do….but there were a few things that I kept that were extremely important to me. This was one thing that I could never and will never part with…

Ellen and Amelia1

You can’t imagine with my life as scattered as it is and has been – the moving, the traveling and life I lead – how hard it may be to keep track of things. I always know where this photo is on a moments notice.


So here I am. Alone. I’m okay with that. I’m simply acknowledging how I feel today and the things going ’round in my head. I’m not trying to get back together with anyone, not looking for anyone new. I’m just happy to live today and to feel this breeze in my face. That photo may seem sad, but to me it isn’t. It reminds me that I had a very, very happy time in my life and I was lucky to have had it. I’ve been lucky for every day ever since. When I left her, I drank myself into a stupor for about three years. I practically lived at the bar, playing Garth Brook’s “The Dance” on the jukebox and wallowing in grief. If  I had all the money back that I drank away, I could probably travel well for a year. Paycheck after paycheck I pissed into the toilet, literally. I’ve come a long, long way. I’m sober now. I’m humble. I feel too much sometimes, but I am not afraid to face what I feel with quiet dignity and know that I have been blessed many times over. I choose to be thankful and yes, Ellen,  I choose to be proud of you and believe in you. You deserve that.


Categories: lesbian, life lessons, love, self-help | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

My First Kiss – A Magic Night


I like to say that I was a ‘late bloomer’ because it wasn’t until I was 23 that I kissed someone for the first time. Having grown-up in the small town of Tampico, Illinois – population 850 – I wasn’t exactly worldly. In fact, I was pretty naive and eventually she would grow to call me “Peoria” from time to time. It was her way of getting under my skin sometimes. At the time it was aggravating, but in hind sight I must admit that it was sort of cute and funny.

I moved into an upstairs apartment with a guy in the summer of 1992. That summer changed my entire life. One evening he and I were standing outside, smoking a cigarette. I looked up and saw this woman walking from the left end of the street and crossed over to the other side and disappeared into the house right across the street. I stopped in mid sentence and said to him, “Who is that woman?” He smiled and said, “That’s Ellen. She lives next door and that’s her cousin’s house across the street.” I was stopped dead in my tracks and as God is my witness, this is what I said to him, “I will be with that woman.” He laughed hysterically, but I was dead serious. I honestly never believed in love at first sight…but it was sure as hell lust. I was smitten, bitten and tongue tied, for the most part. I always felt like everything I said around her came out wrong and I felt so incredibly awkward most of the time.

I fell so hard for her and she wasn’t even single, though she made it clear that she’d prefer to be and that she wasn’t happy at all. Each day I would watch her drive by in that silly Volkswagen bus. You could hear her coming long before she actually drove by, in a flash of faded red that played background to the bright yellow daisy painted on the side. Just picturing it right now makes me smile so big. Those were wonderful days, the summer I finally started to become me.

One day, I got the outlandish idea to buy her a dozen red roses. We’d talked a few times, made small talk and drank a few beers one night out on the lawn. I have no idea what possessed me to think that I had any business buying her roses but I did. I took them to her cousin’s house and asked if she’d give them to her when she did her usual stop in after work. I stood in the upstairs apartment across the street and waited, chain-smoking with my roommate. I couldn’t take them to HER house…she lived with a guy and I surely didn’t want to start any trouble.

When she came home, I was having heart failure as I watched her walk into her cousin’s house. She wasn’t in there ten minutes and came marching out with her flowers, in the vase I had bought for them, and took them to her house. My roommate declared, “Oh my GOD…she’s gonna go flaunt them right in his face!” Yep, that’s pretty much how it all started. We played cat and mouse over the entire summer with nothing much happening…it was all very innocent at first, until that night….

It was growing into the last days of summer, when the nights began to get cooler and the stars over the St Pete sky glistened like diamonds in the black velvet of that night. I shall never forget it as long as I live. We sat on her deck, she had invited me over. The hour was getting late. She seemed to need someone to talk to and I hung on her every word. She told me of her life as a child, as a teen and how she’d ended-up here in this city – the place she’d ultimately grow to love with such a passion. She was fascinating to me, with all her world views and opinions on politics and such. She knew where she stood and I really didn’t yet. I was still impressionable and …. well … naive. 🙂

As she talked, my heart seemed to move around in my chest as if it was freely floating. As I recall, it was bumping into things and sliding up into my throat on occasion, making it rather hard to swallow with such a lump suffocating me. I was filled with feelings and thoughts that I truly didn’t even understand. My entire body seemed to be doing its own thing, while I tried very hard not to let it show. I doubt she ever had any idea how nervous I was that night, or how her mere presence before me caused my pulse to rise and my heart to skip beats. I remember thinking that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever gazed upon.

She had tears in her eyes at times, as she spoke about her current unhappiness and the things that she wanted to do with her life. She talked about the accident that had landed her in the hospital and physical therapy. Clearly she was in pain emotionally and had issues with the scars it had left upon her physical being as well.  I wanted to touch her, to hold her hand or even just to sit closer. To me, she was simply beautiful. She wore her hair in a French braid and it was lovely. Sometimes she wore it down and other times she used to pull it up over the top of her head, twist it and pin it. She had the most gorgeous hair.

I was frozen in my chair for at least two hours. It wasn’t until it was very late and she had tears trickling softly down her cheeks that something inside me took over. The entire world seemed to fade into the background as I stood and walked to her. There, in the cool breeze of the night, I gently lifted her chin to look into her eyes. I bent and softly kissed her right cheek, where a tear slowly made it’s way downward. I could taste the salt of her emotional wounds and  I softly kissed the other cheek, noting how soft her skin was and how warm she felt. I remember letting my cheek linger against hers. My heart was racing and to this day I do not know where I found the courage to softly kiss her lips but I did. I wasn’t even sure if I was doing it right, but I was so lost in the moment that I could have crawled inside of her and wrapped my arms around her very soul right then and there.

I can still, to this very day, feel how soft and inviting her lips were. It was a sweet, soft kiss that wasn’t meant to lead to anything. I was happy to just be there in that very heartbeat in time and want for nothing more. It was a magical moment for me and I don’t know what it was like for her, but I’m grateful that I have that memory. It was the first time in my life that I fell in love with someone and I knew it in that very moment. How many people can remember the exact moment in time that they knew they were in love with someone?  True, I was innocent and naive, but I was so in love with her in that very moment that nothing else  in the world mattered but her. To this day, I can close my eyes and remember the way she smelled and how she felt, with her cheek against my own. I was in heaven.

That night, I would leave her with that kiss and go home, a couple of doors down. We had a very sweet courtship that lasted for several months before we would finally end-up together and it was an amazing time in my life. Am I romanticizing things and being overly sentimental? Perhaps. 🙂 Shouldn’t we all remember our first loves in such a way?


Is is coincidence that she JUST called me and we talked for two hours? After a crazy break-up and a LOT of water under the bridge, we recently started talking again and I have to say that she’s still got me hanging on every word and she’s still every bit as beautiful as she ever was, perhaps even more so now because she’s grown so much in the last twenty years. I hope that I have too. Once again, I’m happy to say that I’m lucky to have her around.

So many of you who have been following me and my writing over the last year have heard me say that it feels as if my life is coming full circle. I think that talking to her again has made the circle complete. In a strange way, it feels like I have been off on a twenty year adventure and now I get to tell her all about it over conversations where we catch each other up on the last several years of our lives. How amazing life is! What a strange adventure indeed!

As we ended our conversation tonight, she said, “Miss you” and it made me smile. I have missed her too….for twenty years. To this day, she’s the only woman who ever bought ME flowers – EVER. They were Peace roses and Godiva chocolates, because she said I ‘hadn’t lived’ if I had never had Godiva chocolates. I still remember the perfume that she wore – Magie Noire – and it took me years to stop smelling it when I closed my eyes. Suddenly, tonight, I smelled it again. Thanks, Ellen. 🙂

Categories: lesbian, life lessons, love, self-help | Tags: , , , , , | 9 Comments

Here I Go Again!


Here I Go Again!


I know that many of you have been following what has been going on with Jo and I. There frankly has been nothing to tell. She’s stuck in this pattern of not being forthcoming, hiding facts and insisting on being secretive. In all honestly, I completely understand this behavior – I really do. Understanding it doesn’t make me want to stick around and be subjected to it though.

You see … while I understand it, that doesn’t mean that I feel I deserve it. As I told her about two weeks ago…I deserve someone who is there for me and that I can build a future with. I’ve simply decided that with all that has happened, I have zero trust for her. Weighing my options and thinking about what I want and need in a love, I can clearly see that I’ll NEVER have that with Jo. I wish her all the best and I’d still be here if she needed help, but I think it is simply time to stop wasting my efforts. I’ve helped as much as I can. I can add domestic abuse to my list of things that I advocate to change. Another lesson, thank-you God.

My peace comes in knowing I did all I could. You can lead a horse to water….

So what happens now? Hmmm…good question, I suppose. I have no real plans. I’m intending to visit FL soon, so that Ellen and I can catch up. She makes me feel better. Our conversations are more “even” nowadays. Back in the days when we were a couple ( 20 years ago), we didn’t feel very equal to me. I felt like the kid who still hadn’t participated in life and had no real experiences to draw upon. Now I’m different and we both have a lot of shared experiences and opinions about life in general. We’ve had some really good conversations and I look forward to having more great conversations while sitting at the beach or over a good meal. She has an infectious laugh and I could use some of that right now.

In fact, I could use some “beach and sunshine” right now. I’ve been thinking about my life a lot these past few weeks. My friend Sheila has been after me to put down roots. I agree with her…I need to, but don’t know for sure where I want to. I’ve moved around so much that I now have many places that call out to me and nowhere really feels like home. It has been very tough for me to figure out what to do and where I want to be. I’ve sort of come to the conclusion that I need to live in FL in the winter and IL in the summer. That said, now I have to work on my income so that I can afford to do that. It isn’t really so hard. Once you set your mind on something and it feels right, then you just do it. That’s the way I’ve always lived my life…decide what to do…then just do it. I still want to visit Ireland next year and now it looks like it may be alone. No…that’s not a hint for women to apply! LOL

Fact is, I’m feeling a little sorrowful today over the things I want from life that I’m not getting – as of yet. I may roam a lot and seem very independent…but the truth is that I’m a little lonely sometimes. I honestly always wanted to marry someone and settle down – though my idea of settling down is not really what other’s ideas might be! I see me traveling the Irish and Scottish countrysides on horse back or bikes with someone. I see me holding someone’s hand and walking on the beach and snuggling at a bonfire, toasting New Year’s Eve in a new place each year.   Somewhere…she’s out there, the one who wants the same things from life, has the same views and understands that it is about the adventure and the journey, not the toys you acquire alone the way! Onward and upward!

***Breathe, Believe, Become***

Categories: lesbian, life lessons, love, self-help | Tags: , , , | 14 Comments

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