love is what dreams are made of..especially when you sleep in an empty bed.

Journal excerpt:

1/18/10

Love, the 1 thing I feel I don't know anything about and the 1 thing I crave.

I wonder always when is the right time to say "I love you" to someone, or what exactly love is suppose to feel like??

I sit, wondering about this at times.

I observe others, watching what they do, seeing how they love, but for myself it doesn't seem to come natural.

My best friend and I laugh together when I say I have relationship ADD. I just want to explore and get it "right,"whatever that means, wanting to figure a "right" relationship out, understand what works for me and what doesn't.

I've been married for 18 years and I know now I don't love him and wonder if I ever did.

I've felt so lonely living with him and though I feel I know nothing about love, I do know this isn't how it should be.

I've had an open relationship for the last 7 years of my marriage and I've only dated outside twice...1 was a long term relationship with Jomo that lasted 5 years, the other...well lets just say that was a passing phase that I was glad past!

Though we never lived together, I was never lonely with Jomo as he was always emotionally available though we would meet only twice a month for a weekend.

I think about being with Alex now, since Jomo has moved so far away and we only talk on the phone, I seriously wonder what it would be like with Alex.

Being in the military Alex's job makes him physically unavailable, always gone.

I know I would sleep alone, make decisions with no one there to talk it over with, feeling like he was a thief in the night in and out quickly because of work.

With an empty bed is the emotional connection enough? I've slept in a full bed and felt empty, and in a empty bed and felt emotionally full.

i wonder what it would be like with him?

Story of my life...or is it??

Writing about different experiences while looking for love.

It's so hard to know where to start.

You want to start at the begining but where is that really??

There are so many players in the story that to start at the begining seems such a long way away.

Seems more prudent to explain who the players are as I go along.

I want to start with Henry, (names have been changed to protect the identity of characters in this story), why i didnt choose him, his demeanor and his way of trying to guilt me into seeing things his way. He was 5'11" smooth milk chocolate, and from Jamaica. He didnt last long. Actually I never even got to meet him.

I'll sprinkle him with Jomo, tall, 6'1" dread with the most beautiful mocha coloring. Everytime I envision him it's always from the back, standing with hands on hips, hair down to his waist stareing out across the streets. I cant rememer what he was looking at now, but I do remember the curve of his back as his t-shirt clung to him that day and the way his pants hugged his hips, I remember thinking, "if I could only hold on to this moment for a lifetime it would be the sweetest thing I've ever tasted." In my mind he's my true love, soul mate if you believe in that sorta thing.

Alex, he comes in a close 2nd behind Jomo in the way I feel for him. It's been a year, we haven't officially "met" again, but we know each other. We grew up together and spent our elementary and 1st year of High School life together but lost touch for about 25 years before being in contact with each other again.

And lastly there is Stanley, though he would prefer to be called Sabastian. A dark chocolate brotha whose life is so drama filled it may take a book to put it all down.

How do I get across that in my journey for love these are some of the ppl I have met along the way? Some whose energy were compatible with mine and others...well, others whose wern't!

How do you do that in understandable languge to ppl who havent been there from the start...hhmmm, I dont know, but I'll try.

Follow along if you can.

Today I sat.

I thought I would start this blog of with a poem.
One that speaks of love and thoughts of love.

Today I sat.

That was most of what I did.

Oh, there was the odd moment of getting up, eating, going to the bathroom.

But mostly I sat.

I took time to rake the yard, burn the leaves that just moments before were scattered arond like drops of water that come together at the stir of a breeze and rushed around like waves at the ocean when the wind blew.

I sat.

I stared at the fire and delighted in the crackle of the leaves as they turned black, then red with licks of flames and finally white when all that was left of them was ash.

I sat.

I listened to music that relaxed me and put me in the kind of daze you only get from smoking pot, the kind that makes the world look hazy, amd dreamy, and makes you wonder where all your long forgotten dreams reside.

I sat.

I listened to poems by Pablo Neruda, and fell in and out of love.

I heard your voice and it made butterflies dance in my stomach and bought a smile to my face.

It reminded me of gentle kisses and nights held tight in warm embrace.

I sat.

I put pen to paper and thoughts poured out of me like sweat on a hot summers day.

Thoughts of love, of heartache, betrayals and friendships.

Thoughts of making love, arching backs, sweet taste of fleash basted with juices that flow freely from riding, riding, riding...

I sat.

Today my day was not wasted, though YOU, may think it were.