Tag Archives: music

Ode to Online Dating

2 Nov

I met him online, we chatted for a while

He likes awesome music and knows how to make me smile

Spent hours on the phone with him, like I was 16

Sent him links to songs I like, stared hours at the screen

We spent an awesome evening, playing music at the park

My heart skipped a beat when he kissed me in the dark

I know I barely know him, I should probably take it slow

Instead I just forget myself and go with the flow

My phone hums, my heart skips a beat

It might be the man I’m waiting to meet

He’ll send me a short silly nonchalant text

I’ll read between the lines, and figure out the rest

My phone hums, he wants us to meet

Tonight at the park, my heart skips a beat

I’ll talk about all kinds of things he doesn’t understand,

He’ll play me that song I like, he’ll take me by the hand

I spent the night at his place, I wore that skimpy dress

My face and hair were perfect but my heart was a mess

I know I barely know him, I should probably take it slow

Instead I just forget myself and go with the flow

My phone hums, my heart skips a beat

It might be the man I’m waiting to meet

He’ll send me a short silly nonchalant text

I’ll read between emoticons, and figure out the rest

My phone hums, I check it right away

Been hours since he wrote me last, I’m going insane

I’ll read between the lines, I’ll see what isn’t there

I’ll answer with a winky face, not showing that I care


Collecting Snapshots

29 Oct

“Hi,” I smiled nervously and got into the car, perfectly aware of how awesome my favorite seven-year-old black boots that I’d repared with superglue the night before looked over my jeans, and how my top was just slightly drooping over my shoulder exposing a purple bra strap.

He leaned over to give me a hug, which I recieved greatfully, and when he started to drive, I sighed with relief. First dates are always awkward, but I had a feeling I was going to like this guy, based on the three nights in a row we’d spent chatting online and talking on the phone, sending one another pictures and youtube links to our favorite music. Also, this was not going to be a boring old date-date. This was a picnic at my favorite spot at the park, where I had fantasized all day about sipping wine, listening to him play his guitar and making out a bit if the moment presented itself.

Still, it’s always different seeing someone face to face, no matter how many pictures you’ve seen of them. He wore a beige collar shirt with brownish stripes, but the fabric was soft and droopy, and the top button was loose. He was shorter than me, and smaller, but not by much. His hair was light brown and messy, cut too short for curls to form, but long enough that you could see its tendency to curl. His complextion was light, there may even have been a few freckles decorating his face. His eyes were serious, but his smile was boyish, with a bottom lip that was fleshier than the top one, and which I later found to be delicious and sexy.

“You came on time.” I commented.

“No I didn’t, I was late.”

“Two minutes doesn’t count as late.”

“But it wasn’t two minutes, it was four.” I  smiled. “So where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

An hour later I was sitting there on my green fleece banket in my favorite corner of the park. My boots were tossed to the side, as were his. He was sitting close to me, facing me, with only his guitar between us. His shirt was slightly open, from before, when I was touching his chest as he kissed me. Now he was playing Wish You Were Here, and I enjoyed immensly watching his fingers playing with the chordes, and listening to him sing, slightly off key. As I joined in, my hands were on his thighs, stroking them gently.

I closed my eyes and took a snapshot of this beautiful moment, of a girl and a guy enjoying music and warmth on a cool evening at the park. I was, once again, reminded of the numerous gifts that life continues to grant me, when I am open at heart and at mind and willing to accept them. When he placed his guitar on the blanket to his right, and leaned in to kiss me again, less cautiously and more passionately this time, I felt his warmth, surging through his body, leaking through those fingertips that stoked my back. With my eyes still shut, my mind was clear and I allowed myself to drown in an emotion that I can only attempt to describe as a sea of cotton balls and warm milk.

What happens next doesn’t even matter. My life is so intense and complex and challenging. But I am collecting beautiful moments for the collage that is my life, and they balance out the uncertainty, the drama, the pain, the guilt, the struggle.

Every single snapshot counts.


Out of My Head

6 Jan


I was in a kind of nostalgic mood yesterday, so I dug up some old CDs and started listening to them, allowing the songs to send me each in turn back to a different period of my life. Duran Duran, REM, Radiohead, Semisonic, Guns and Roses. After switching a few CDs I got stuck on Fastball’s All the Pain Money Can Buy, listening to it again and again, specifically to song number 10, Out of My Head. I must have been around nineteen when I first got hooked on this song and couldn’t stop humming it. Nineteen. Hmmm. That was the year I met BD.

We met online. Back then everyone was on ICQ, remember those “uh-oh”s indicating incoming messages? The beginning of instant messaging, the thrill and freedom of faceless communication.

I was going through a difficult time back then. Maybe I’ll write about that some day. But that night I had gone out dancing with some friends and came home at 3 am, tipsy and weary after all the goofing around. I was in a good mood for once. Things were looking a bit better for me. So I decided to go boy-hunting online, as I had done several times before (which had led to some terrible/awkward/depressing dates). I did a search. I was looking for a guy, ages 18-25, who liked Radiohead, which I was completely  hooked on at the time, who read, and, well I don’t remember, there may have been a couple of other criteria.

Three guys popped up, and I wrote “hi” to each of them, and waited for an “uh-oh”, and it arrived. Uh-oh indeed. He was a 20 year old boy, witty and amusing, fun to chat with, full of excitement about life. That was my first impression of him. He seemed to always be going out, especially to concerts (he’d gone to that Radiohead concert I had been dying to go to and could not get a ticket) and he could quote poetry, which completely got to me, although I later discovered he had been copying passages directly out of a book.

We chatted for a couple of hours. Then we exchanged numbers and spoke on the phone several times. Finally it was time for the date. Having dated more than a few creeps that year, I told him we’d meet at a book store by my house, that way I could walk there (I didn’t have a car or a driver’s license back then) and we could meet and chat before I decided whether I was getting into a car with him.

I arrived first, a couple of minutes early, and then he strolled in. I hadn’t seen a picture of him, and he hadn’t seen one of me. Blind date. He was cute. Very thin. I immediately figured he would think I was fat (I had some serious body image issues back then). We hugged and chatted for a bit and then drove to a cafe by the beach. I remember exactly what I was wearing. A blue flowery skirt and a tight pastel green tank top that made my boobs look awesome, and my only pair of heels which were strapless sandals. I think I had my hair down. I may have worn an anklet, actually I’m almost sure I did.

BD was fun to be around. He seemed to know everyone, anywhere we went. The waiter at the cafe was friends with him and gave us a free bottle of wine. We shared a piece of cake. Then we went for a walk along the beach. He made a crack about having gotten us a room at a fancy hotel we walked by. On the beach we sat on the sand and chatted but he was to timid to kiss me. Then he drove me home. At the door, he gave me a peck on the cheek, but I’d had enough of his shyness, so I pulled him toward me a gave him a good soft kiss on the lips. We met the following 3 nights as well. We went to a movie, where we held hands, and I was so electrified by the touch of his fingers that I couldn’t concentrate on the movie at all; then to a club, where we made out on the empty second floor until getting kicked out. That night I didn’t invite him upstairs, because I knew what would happen if I did, and I wanted to take things slow.

I was in love. I told my mom that I thought this could be it a few months into the relationship. We had a lot to talk about, we had amazing sex, we enjoyed the same things: movies, food, travelling, and shared the same ideas. We were both excited to embark on an adventure together.

Man, I miss that time terribly. When everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky. The two-hour-long phone conversations. The kissing, God I miss the kissing. Later in life closeness became about sex, which was fine, especially when the sex was good, but I miss the excitement and anticipation of a good kissing session.

And now, here I am, listening to Fastball again, flooded with memories of how I met the love of my life, the man that I married, who gave me the most amazing gift of all, my beautiful son. The man who left me because he had become unhappy, and had decided that he didn’t deserve to live that way. And although I realize that we are over, and a part of me is ready to move on, the song keeps playing again and again in my head, and I can’t help but fantasize about the man I used to love coming back to his senses, realizing that we are a family, that it’s worthwhile to try and work things out.

“Was I out of my head? Was I out of my mind? How could I have ever been so blind? I was waiting for an indication, it was hard to find. No matter what I say, only what I do. I never mean to do bad things to you. So quiet but I finally woke up, if you’re sad then it’s time you spoke up too.” 

Fine Tuning

31 Oct

Remember that song from the nineties? Life, oh life, oh life… This is the new ringtone of my existence. Life, oh life. And speaking of ringtones, I need to get a new ringtone for my phone. Why is this so important? I don’t know. But in times of emotional turmoil, there’s just nothing like a new ringtone to help define who you are.

So let’s see, what exactly am I looking for? Something strong. Something that’ll remind me, everytime my phone rings, that I’m ma-own-woman, I can take on anything that comes my way. I can do it on my own.

Hmmm. Maybe Beyonce can give me something. All the ladies independent… The only thing is, I’m not trully independent. I’m actually pretty reliant on Mr. Dad right now, at least money-wise. Do you pay my bills? Yeah. Do you pay for my automobile? Yeah. OK. I’m thinking Destiny’s child won’t cut it.

Maybe what I really need is just a feel good song. Something that’ll just make me want to dance everytime I hear it. But something tells me Shawty Got Low doesn’t exactly reflect the way I want to portray myself right now. Neither does Sexy Bitch. Maybe later on when I’m on the rebound.

So more serious stuff. Radiohead? Depressing. Assaf Avidan? It’s over, it’s over, it’s over? Super-Mega-Depressing. Amy Winehouse? You go back to her and I’ll go back to black? I don’t think so.

Jeez, why is it all the songs I like are either utterly depressing or about hoes?