Suppose I write these words
For a target yet unknown
Cast them out into the world
Just as if the wind had blown
Like feathers may they travel
Flutter up and all around
Praying that they do not drift
Unnoticed to the ground.
But rather cross my soulmates path
By chance or by hopes might
To bring me a lover all my own
With these words I write.

Just a wee bit too eccentric,
And a little bit too much drink,
Yet the passion in the hallway
Did certainly make me think
And yes, your airplane was so cool
And I liked you were smarter than me.
But I'm so glad I didn't fall in love.
Because you wanted a family.
Aged 43- and as of yet no child
In need of a son to be an heir
And the thought of being a mom again
Was just way too much to bear.
Whether you even liked me for me
Well I guess I never truly knew
Most times I felt more like an applicant
For a job I couldn't do.
But all things turn out as they should
It was so nice to see you the other day
To hear that you had met another
And had a little Martin on the way. :)

1.Go out alone. Don't arrive with an obnoxious group of friends that don't get out enough. That's what girls nights out are for.

2. Wear something neutral. Don't put too much time into getting ready. Keep it classy. No ****** heels.

(btw ...these time tested and ***** approved instructions are for when you are in need of company only. If you are looking for a relationship, love, or some serious life partner, these instructions will not be of use to you.  Trust me on that. )

3. Stay away from cheesy dives, go with hotel lounges, (lots of middle aged conference men there away from their wives just waiting to take full advantage of their freedom. It also allows u to avoid driving anywhere with a complete stranger.)

4. Walk in with your eyes down  and not too quickly.

5. Sit at the bar...right in the center.

6. Order whatever you really want.

7. Scan the room only once or twice.

8. Choose your victim ( whatever you fancy) and  make eye contact.

9. Shift your hips slightly in your seat as if u are already turned on , then look away.

10. Wait to be approached.

11. Make the social introductions but keep small talk to a minimum. He doesn't need to know where u were born or what u do for a living or likewise.

12. Ask to go to his room.

13. Let him think he's in charge until you get there.

14. Then just simply undress, take the top position, place his arms over his head and apply full rocking body weight at all times until your finished.

15. Calmly dress and leave. You can offer a simple "thank you," if you must. (I usually do not), however, never give your real name or leave a number...not even a fake one.
Just go.
It's pretty simple really.

(Safe *** of course...always a must :-))

Always interested in hearing other's techniques...please feel free to share.

She stood in the garden, alone, and spoke aloud.
"I so wish I could hear your voice again. There's just a snippit left in my head...it's been so long.
The quirky laugh, so nonchalant, as I remember, questions requiring deeper thought, and yet the answers were always so easy.
The tone which I at first never expected but later identified with you and only you...and still do..if I were to only hear it again...match it to that snippit I play over and over again more times than I care to admit...well then   maybe then I would feel how I  felt the last time we spoke.... Like I was vital, loved, scared, and yet safe all at the same time. Sometimes...but only on a very rare occasion, do I wish that I could turn that snippit off. Just so I wouldn't have to miss you for a moment or two. "
"And who has loved like this ? " she asks herself pitifully.
" Only me."-...she whispered in self reply, as he listened quietly from behind the northern wall, never making a sound, before turning and going on about his day.
Just as one lone tear waters the gardenia.

Awakening at 4 am for a needed touch. The stillness requires it, the quiet calls for it, the darkness outright demands it. Expectant, quivering, and ...done. 4:03. Alone.

On a sermon note,  when I guess I should have been listening, I scribbled a poem years ago that I now find in a long neglected book I used to smuggle in every Sunday. A stoic book and in the folds I find the never published long forgotten write of an imagined future day that fate holds from above just out of grasp. That sparkling jewel of hope. A day with darting eyes and deep swallows, heaving hidden breaths, electric thoughts. Two of the corners are shriveled now , one side requiring unrolling the see the last words of each line. Interjected words here and there to change the nuance just a bit. Truth is in there, pleasure too. Between the space of whispered glances and a final goodbye. Wonder what it all means now. I can't quite wrap my head around it much like the sermon of that day. So I will leave it with Pope, right in the middle of the Windsor Forest, "to consult the dead and live past ages o'er."

Those thoughts, that we once lit upon, in such a rage,
(Oh!  how ablaze they once were and Oh! how quick they flew)
Scribbled posthaste onto the now much duller page,
To immortalize- as only the penned word can do.
And so, if ever apt,... regress to way back when,
(at least for a time, at least in mind,...return alone)
To dig them from their coffers - let them live again,
all of the greatest passions our souls had ever known;
To resurrect the fire that only youth can start,
(Recover- , a breathless moment or a wanton gaze)
Exhume instead- , a tear, shed from a lifeless heart,
To bestow the elegy of our departed days.