Showdown at the O.K. Corral (Billy, Wyatt)

"I think you're just the cutest thing."

 

"Can I hold your hand? I know I shouldn't, I really want to kiss you."

 

"Oh what a night. Late September back in '63. What a very special time for me. What a lady, what a night."

 

"I know us is an impossibility, that doesn't stop me from wanting it."

 

Be sure to wipe the lipstick off...

"No thanks. I like the way it tastes."

 

"You're so smart. So smart and so funny. I haven't laughed like that, like we laughed last night, in years."

 

"I like you and your spirit, Pidge. Your lips, too."

 

"You've got tattoos dedicated to everybody else, when are you getting a tattoo for me?"
"I don't know, but I slept on the couch last night, so..."

 

"Your skin is as soft as I always imagined it to be."

 

"I've had a crush on you probably since the first time I met you. 10 years? But that time you came to my show and we all walked downtown together, that's when I knew it officially. 10 years."

 

"You make it hard to concentrate."

"Enjoy the music. Play it fucking loud."
 

"Yes. Now. Or as soon as you can get to my place."

 

"I like everything about you."

 

"I ain't no jilter, all-caps or not. I am irresistible, though."

 

"I went home and I wrote you this song. For your ears only!!!"

 

"When is a good time to talk? Preferably in person."

 

"Sorry, I just can't get you off my mind. Bummed there was no proper goodbye. Although no form of goodbye would feel good anyways."

 

"Oh my. And you are remarkably adept at sparring. Blog post fodder?"

 

"Not sorry."

 

"Wish you were here."

The Best Man X (The Sheriff)

For 19 years, through thick and thin. We packed up and moved a hundred times, twice across the country, now a shit box apartment, another old car, cried over crappy boyfriends, sweated it out on hot days and cuddled up on icy wintry nights. Work days, vacation days, sick days, he's been my constant companion.

The Best Men, Part IX (Fisher, Ricardo)

When you routinely give a piece of your heart to guys that twist it, poke holes in it with blunt instruments and then throw it in the river, it's easy to get discouraged about men in general. Lucky for me, there's always a few that take a piece and hold it gently, keeping it warm and safe. Their encouragement, kindness, and humor, keeps my heart hopeful, just in case.

The Best Man, Part VIII (Paolo)

Sun Tzu (Ricardo)

Joce,

I have a lot of fun with you and I'm sorry for last night's misunderstanding. I'm not going to try to defend myself anymore because that is clearly a losing battle, but please know it was my insecurities and not your behavior (or volume of voice) that set up the scene. One of the things that I like about you is your boldness. I like strong women that push me out of my comfort zone.

I bought the wine with the money you left last night. I tried to find something that paired well with mac & cheese, but the clerk just looked at me funny. If you really feel strongly about me keeping that money I guess you can buy me a bottle of wine, but that would just end up in a vicious cycle of wine giving. Also, you don't know where I live so I think I'm safe. Thanks for the fun nights. I can't wait to read the Ricardo entry in TBBOBD.

Ricardo

The Incredible Voyage (Joce)

Father’s Day and I’m single, again. I know my dad is thinking: “why doesn't anybody love this girl as much as we do? She is the best girl.” But, really, I know why and he knows why, because he is the same, damn complicated, and loving someone as complicated as we are isn’t easy. There are few up to the challenge. 

I am created in my father’s image: resilient, independent, loyal, generous, overbearing, insistent, hard-working, hard-driving, forgiving, kind. Loving him, or loving me, will test your mettle, push you, unsettle you, force you to do things, be things, that you didn’t think you were or that you didn’t want to do, or that you never thought you could. It could take years, your whole life, to unravel the double-helix of rock hard tough and marshmallow soft that we are. To taste the flavors of salty and sweet and bitter and realize that, like Heinz ketchup, they are in perfect combination.

To love us, really love us, you must have in-human beast strength, the courage to summit the highest, coldest peak, the intelligence to unravel great mysteries, Papal patience, a Wilde wit, you must keep going, and going, and going and never tire. And when you tire, you must still keep going. But, you do not have to do this alone. We will lift you up, lend you a hand, and send down a rope. We will encourage you and rub your feet and make you laugh along the way. We will join you on your journey and get you exactly where you need to be, where you want to be. Your risk will be rewarded with a champagne toast and the greatest, sparkling golden, most fulfilling and inspiring love of all. Everything that you have invested will be returned ten fold. 

How do I know? Because for 36 years I have been my father’s daughter. He has pushed me, frustrated me, made me cry, made me scream, embarrassed me. He has worked my fingers to the bone and made me run when all I thought I could do was crawl. He has held my hand through the most lonesome desert trek and saved me from drowning and taught me how to dance. He fed me when I was hungry and when I was not. And when I didn’t want to answer the phone, he just called back later. He kept trying. He believed in me, and forgave me, and celebrated me, despite how difficult it was, I was. I am.

The greatest lesson that I take from my dad is this: it’s far easier not to love someone than to love them. But, it’s absolutely the only thing in the world, in life, that’s really worth doing. 

Father Knows Best

Kitchen Confidential

If I'm not out dating, or working, you can usually find me in the kitchen, cooking. Nothing fancy, just fresh, seasonal and delicious. Last night, instead of going out for drinks with the girls, I was roasting beets from the garden to feature in a beet, goat cheese risotto. To be served with pan roasted pork chops over mustard greens. I also roasted a tray of cherry tomatoes, a red pepper, and started the dough for grilled flatbreads, which we'll serve with the gallon of fresh basil-walnut pesto my sister made last night. Today, I'm going to make a cake, a butter cake with the last of the deep red Rainier cherries, and lemon curd. I love lemon curd. This morning I'm writing in between breakfast preparations: the pesto, a dollop of leftover goat cheese and a couple of eggs go into a cherry red ramekin and are baked in the oven. Served with whole wheat toast and coffee, some blueberries, and you have the perfect summer breakfast.

I wouldn't classify my time spent in the kitchen as love, but it's very therapeutic. Unlike in most areas of my life, I have complete control (usually) over the outcome; whatever I make, I know it will be good, it will be nourishing.  A classically trained chef he taught all of his kids early how to cut up a chicken, how to make a beurre blanc, and that asparagus picked along the ditch bank and morels harvested from a secret spot in the forest, are the most delicious things you can eat.

My grandmother used to say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. This may have been true in the past, with older generations of men, men like my father and grandfather. I have found the exact opposite to be true of the men I have dated. They have almost no interest in food, content to eat at chain restaurants, fast food places, see no difference between my homemade barbecue sauce and a jug of artificially colored, artificially flavored corn syrup goo. Spend 4 hours on an elaborate menu and they eat it and say nothing. Their mothers didn't cook, their dad might have dabbled with the grill, so they don't share my food values, can't understand why I would take the time, or spend the money on quality ingredients. To them it's nothing, to me, it's everything.

To me, good cooking and good food is a direct expression of how much you love yourself and how much you love those around you. My Dad, my kooky, bossy dad, will work a 10 hours day, outside, on the farm. And then, he'll come in and spend 3 hours in the kitchen, slaving over a hot stove, because he loves his family a whole hell of a lot. And they love him, too.

Venus, Jesus and the Phoenix (The Best Man, VIII, Ifan)

Hey Joce,

Sorry, it’s been awhile. I was hoping to spend the month having a nice transition out of Boston – packing boxes calmly, organizing my stuff, and heading out of town clear and free.  Wouldn't that be nice?  But I think you must know a thing or two about getting the fuck out of Dodge quickly.

Things have been hard for each of us over the past few years. I've had nothing but time to ponder this, and the struggle for me has been to keep up the faith that there's a direction to it, that there's an end-point at which I get myself back. The other thing I've been learning is to try not to think too far into the future, especially under a pessimistic outlook. I've surrounded myself and reminded myself about all the things going wrong in my life and then it takes a cartoonish shaking of the head to realize that negative thinking becomes it's own spiral into self-fulfilling prophecy. When I remember to do it, I allow myself some hope and allow myself to enjoy some daily moments, and lo and behold the days start to get better. As it turns out, I'm a mirror of what I'm feeling inside and I'm a better person when I hold that better outlook.

So it's no secret that this is thinly veiled advice for you too. I fucking hate that good advice ends up sounding so cliché. I have a few questions for you, though:

Are you sure there's nowhere else for you to go? Have you ruled out going back to Arizona? You still have friends there. Hope you're not letting some Asshat ruin what was a good thing for you, at least socially. I know that while you were down there you weren't that psyched about your job, but to me I don't see any reason not to go back if it is a place you loved.

I also feel the need to call you out on the "so little to look forward to" and "so little to look back on... wasted time."  I can relate to the sentiment, but c'mon Joce: Your life so far is your life. Just because there hasn't been a clear direction to it, whether that be in love or career, doesn't make it a waste.  The only failure is if you stop trying. I know you know this. Giving up is the ugly little feeling that you can actually do something about – so can we get Joce the spitfire back?  Please?

By the way, your writing is still sharp as a tack. Especially your last post about Sea Salt.  Please tell me that wasn't just an exercise in great writing.  Read it again – and then for God's sake go out and find him again.

So, it's Easter. I'm not religious, but since we both seem to be in a phase of picking ourselves back up, I think we can embrace the spirit of the occasion. Here's to rising back up again. I want you to know that I think you are great and I'm cheering for you.

Ifan 

Beating a dead horse (Joce, Mike, Em, Matt)

I AM NOT THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE
I am not the key to your lock,
I am not the tick to your clock,
I am not the shoe to your sock,
Or the response to your knock.

The Best Man, Part VII (Gunter)

Joce, I've never once looked at a picture of you without thinking how incredibly beautiful you are, nor have I ever realized you to be anything but an amazing person. You are, in every sense, a “A Rare Beauty.” Best, Gunter

The Best Man, Part VI (Nik)

Dear Joce,
As the weather here gets progressively worse, so do my spirits with you not here. Every task gets progressively harder without a smile from you upon its completion, and every dream gets progressively more clouded without you to share them with...except one, which of course is the dream of being nearer to you. The front of this card is the perfect illustration of my recent weeks. Every pile I sort through is a wealth of discovery (some good, some not so good) but nevertheless interesting. I miss you so very much, and I love you even more!
Love Always,
Johann

The Best Man, Part V (Mr. Wiedermann)

June 3, 1988

Dear Joce,
I hope you enjoy your new school, making new friends will be fun. I really enjoyed having you in my class. You are an exceptional student and a great storyteller. When you become a famous writer can I have an autographed copy of your first book?
Mr. W

The Best Man, Part IV (Murat)

From Joce’s Moleskine journal, age 27

November, 2004

Murat, the bio-energy healer came to the house this afternoon. He is a very slight Turkish man and he has energy from God in his hands. He diagnosed all my problems: he said I have allergies (to bright light, pollen, smog, smoke and heat), chronic bronchitis or fluid often in my lungs, I have a genetically weak nervous system that is extremely sensitive. Joint problems (plaque between the bones) in my back, lower back and legs (aches and cramps) and arms. All over I have muscle aches. I take negative energy from crowds and it gives me a headache. I am very sensitive and my soul gets depressed. My kidneys are very tired. I get tired easily and cold and hot very easily.

He stood on my upper legs while I laid down on the floor and pressed his feet into my back. He moved my arms and pressed the side of my head with his fingers. He held his hand over my forehead so I could feel the heat from his hands. I took very, very much energy from him and it will take 2 more times before I will be healed. After he finished I felt so relaxed and positive. He was drained!

The Best Man, Part III (Merrick)

10:22 p.m.

Merrick: Zup babe? 

Joce: Dumped.

M: That makes 2 of us.

J: :(

M: We'll be together soon, wub woo

The Best Man, Part II (Christopher)

Welp, he’s very popular with the ladies.  This is to be expected.  His good looks put him on the intimidating side.  Do not let it deter you.

And, I have to say, I’m probably right about this kid.  I found his blog to be a little bit too serious/pompous for its own good, but hey, if I could write like that, I probably would.  He’s a Sagittarius which is good and he’s 31 and he’s single. Who cares?!  I really think he may be like me and Johnny insofar as he’s willing to wait for a GOOD person, not just another dumbshit.  And his tastes seem refined…  Blahdidy blah…

One point of caution:  DON’T FUCKING JOCK HIM.  If you go out like that, like trying to overly please Tony, you’ll lose.  Just be normal.  I have a feeling he’s hoping for normal, wholesome, good, stable, stuff like that.  If you give him shit, I bet you’ll have him eating out of your hands.  He obviously gets a lot of attention from the ladies and probably takes it for granted.  Lucky bastard.  But, if you go out with him, you better put your jealousies in a tight little purse and tuck them away forever because he’s going to get jocked and I’m sure it does make him feel good, so he’ll be unwilling to give it up.

But anyway, I say check it out!  He may even turn out to be from the west coast!  Oh, he’s a painter.  That might be a negative.  Too self-absorbed.  You’ll just have to find out I guess!

The Best Man, Part I (Ben)

Dearest Joce,

Joce!!!

I’m really honestly sorry that I didn’t write sooner. There’s just a lot of shit happening up here on my end. Well, Joce, I miss ya, I really do.

I have so much to say, but I don’t know where to start. Anyway, I’m sitting here listening to 10,000 Maniacs, thinkin’ about you. I got your letter and package yesterday. You are a goddess! Words could not convey how much I love you! Thank you! I never get any mail so at the sight of your letter and package, I practically went berserk. I am the envy of all my friends.

My life up here seems to be going 200 mph. I’m always on the run or asleep, and it’s hard to find time for myself. I talked to Kristie last night and it was kind of a sullen conversation. I think we’ve changed too much while we were apart, so we’re almost strangers it seems. Kind of sad, I guess, when you realize your first love is gone for good. Oh, well, there will be others. Right, Joce? You better say yes. I still don’t know what you should do about Avery, just don’t let him jack you around, do what you want to do. You’ll settle down with some nice guy sometime, don’t try to rush it.

I don’t think that too much else is going on over here. The sunsets are beautiful because of all the fires and stuff.

Well, I’m gonna get movin. Lotsa BS to tend to. I’ll call you B4 I come home (or you can call me) soon. If you think of me, I will come.

Love, your dearest, damn good friend and confidant,

Ben

Father Knows Best (Joce)

It’s Father’s Day. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that it’s because of my Dad this blog exists, because of him, my expectations of men are sky high, and, because of him, my dreams of the future are so wildly unrealistic. Predictably, my relationships with other men have been predetermined, filtered through, by my relationship with my father. Call it whatever syndrome or complex you like, but no man is ever going to live up to my Dad; no man is going to be more generous, thoughtful, hilarious, ridiculous, inspiring, driven, loyal, witty, or talented than my Dad. It’s just a fact. Get over it.

One thing my Dad does is give advice. He’s very serious about giving advice; he loves to sit me down and tell me exactly what to do. If I need help with something, am scared, or worried, or overwhelmed, I just call my Dad. He’s got a level head, and he’s confident, and he’ll always know exactly what to do. He can talk me off any ledge. It used to drive me crazy – all the advice and bossing around – but after college, I realized that if I asked him advice on things that he was really knowledgeable about, that he would lay off the other stuff. Stuff I was “taking care of.”  And the stuff I need help with, well, I can always count on Dad to have the answer, to know what to do.

Dad is also famous in our family for certain “Dad-isms” – things he says on a fairly regular basis that accurately sum up a thought or philosophy he holds, that you may or may not share. One of our favorites is when he says, “It’s premature to prioritize.” Now my Dad may be all of the things above, and more, but one thing he is not is organized. He’s famous for being hours late, for forgetting the most important thing and for being unable to find whatever he is looking for, especially if it’s right in front of him. Having three organized, on-time, eagle-eyed daughters drives him a little crazy. If we’re trying to plan a vacation, or pack for a trip, or get everybody rounded up for dinner, make a list, it makes him antsy…, “now, girls,” he says, “I think it’s a little premature to start prioritizing.” Of course, we girls think it’s never too early to start thinking about what to do and what order to do it in!

The View from the Aquarium (Joce)

My parents met when they were in the 5^th grade. We have a newspaper clipping from that year that shows them, two desks apart in a classroom, clad in plaid shirts, diligently working on their schoolwork. They dated all through high school, attended the same college and got married the summer after they graduated.  Four kids, many homes and cars and businesses later, forty some years later, in fact, they are still married.  It hasn’t always been a fairytale romance, but I think anyone would admit there is a little bit of crazy magic (coupled with a lot of diligent hard work) that goes into a long term union such as theirs.

No matter how non-traditional I feel in other aspects of my life, growing up with their solid alliance as my primary example of a relationship has contributed to my believing, deeply, in the power of marriage, family loyalty and commitment.  And yet, despite my openness to it, this kind of union has eluded me at every pass.

In my twenties, I was a serial-monogamist. I never dated anyone for less than a year, and I had two nearly 5 year, cohabitation relationships. In the first one, we met when I was 19 and moved in together after just a few months of dating. We were a classically bad match, but young and inexperienced enough to keep at it for way too long. Years before we actually broke up, the relationship had run it’s course and we sniped at each other, complained to our friends and became jaded with life and each other. He was a lazy alcoholic with a porn collection and I was a bitter, overworked, short-tempered bitch. We brought out the absolute worst in each other. After a few years, our parents started pressuring us about marriage and when I realized the long-term implications of that merger, I was confident that was not what I wanted. Not with him.

Madonna-whore complex (Merrick)

Note: my best friend Merrick is diving in the unfathomable dark depths of dating over thirty and recently got this email.

i do appreciate the call and your apology about your behavior. but now, i really have to thank you for the head trip on top of everything else. so, you're "just not into it." that's great. thanks for pursuing me from the beginning, thanks for texting me while my ex was in town, for wanting to spend every night in my bed, for telling me how much i turn you on, for explaining that your hesitancy is because you want to take things slow. what the fuck, Merrick? you were doing all this because you think you should be attracted to me? because i'm nice and you respect me and you think i'm the kind of person you should want to be with? what kind of fucked up shit is that? i can't believe that even though i am now telling you to get lost, i have to end up feeling rejected by you. that just completelysucks. i wasn't even looking for this.

i honestly think you have a drinking problem and a madonna-whore complex. you should consider therapy.

Superman vs Clark Kent (Cooper & Chris)

Name: Cooper

Looks like: Superman

Age: 34

Stats: 6 ft. 190 lbs.

Sign: Scorpio

Education: Bachelors degree in Political Science

Employment: middle management

Family: only child, parents deceased

Hails from: Seattle

Car: Toyota Camry

Living situation: lives alone, rents apartment

Uniform: linen pants, sandals

The attraction:

Really smart

Reads extensively

Works out regularly (can pick you up and throw you on the bed)

Well traveled

Extremely affectionate

Possessive

Funny

The detraction:

Womanizer

Indifferent about family/pets

Moody

Self-absorbed

Commitment phobe

The clincher:

You like him more than he likes you

Name: Chris

Looks like: Clark Kent

Age: 27

Stats: 5 ft. 11 n. 155 lbs.

Sign: Capricorn

Education: Pursuing doctorate in Journalism

Employment: none (student)

Family: one brother, parents divorced

Hails from: Florida

Car: Grandpa’s old minivan

Living situation: Lives with roommate, rents duplex

Uniform: Prada glasses, pointy Euro loafers

The attraction:

Really smart

Owns espresso machine

Motivated

Well traveled

Loves dogs

Knowledgeable about the arts

Family mansion in the Florida keys

The detraction:

Likes pugs

Wimpy

Easily bossed around

Previously married

Talks too much about Wagner

The clincher:

He likes you more than you like him