Hello my beauties, sit down and listen to my story of Bob the Buddhist.
He seems a likeable sort. His pictures make me laugh. What kind of man put these pictures of himself bent over digging, cuddling his cat, sitting awkwardly on a shallow step? Bob the Buddhist is that kind of man. He can spell. He speaks in complete sentences. I do no teaching whatsoever before I make a joke. He knows what mindfulness is all about, the power of intention, thinking addictions, being present, and the pleasure of simple things. He has one degree I know about. He has a real job. Divorced 11 years. One son in post-secondary and a daughter living half time with him still in high school. He reads. He walks. He likes to cook. He gardens and knows quite a bit about the natural world.
So I wrote to Bob---barely a few sentences. He read it and then didn't respond until supper time when he told he wanted to respond more fully and needed to make supper first, but didn't want me wondering if he didn't like me. So, later, he told me my message was so poetic (well hell's bells I wasn't even trying!). He decided I was clearly a writer. So I've just been running with that one. This game is all about not quite lying, and seeing how long you can sit on the edge of truth before you meet them. For our truth needs presence. I need him to like me in the flesh before he has a chance to bolt at the news that I am clergy.
So we exchange a few more emails, and I quite like him. Then he gets me on the chat thing, and the fingers are flying on both ends. So finally I just took a page from a friend's book, and wrote, "Bob, I would like to meet you. Would you like to sleep on it?" He quickly responded that no he didn't need to sleep on it.
So, long story short, we are meeting for a drink after his work, and possibly something to eat if it goes well. I have his cell and will call him later as he wanted to do some research on where we might go.
And yes, I know I shouldn't have sex yet.
He's 5' 10', graying hair parted on the side, but still presentable amount of it, 57, average build, glasses. Nice genuine friendly face that hints at a particular of sexiness that I find intriguing. He's interested in a relationship of depth, conversations that matter, laughing, meditation, and generally things that fit well with me.
Stay tuned. I have a feeling about a possible kiss. Almost two years in the waiting for it. Is it like having a baby? Your body remembers? Of course I have a pimple. Here I am, 55 years old with a pimple for the big dance. Will someone please spring me out of junior high. I made the leap from grade three, (when I just kept poking the guy I liked) what do I have to do to get out of junior high?
stay safe, laugh, trust the beauty around you and in you.
love always
a wiser woman.
