I cut off a ton of hair. I’m going to leave it round brushed today only, and then will leave it wavy except when I straighten it like the hairdresser did. Before mine turned gray, it was really curly. And it’s always been thick. The texture has changed so much that it’s kinda wavy now. The new look involves a significant and drastic a line, pretty short and the back is tapered and a little shaved. Next time, I’m shaving it really close at the bottom and tapering it more in the back. I think that the hairdresser started more subtle because it was a significant change. I’ve had an a line since August and had cut it much shorter than the way that I wore it when my ex-wife trimmed and cut it for me, but this cut is new and very short. I have magenta highlights too so the look is darker now and less gray. Tonight a friend of mine and I are going to prowl.

She used to be really hot. She still has beautiful eyes, but she is really out of shape. It’s ok though because if we got physical our 20-year friendship would be ruined. She’s bi and just got rid of her man who she affectionately calls Biscuit. She said that he doesn’t even ask her about her day. He’s 17-years younger than her, which made me feel good about my 11-year and some change age difference with my current semi-love interest.

I want to get some phone numbers tonight. That’s the goal. I want to start going out on a date every Thursday night and a weekend night when I can.

I have never done that–gone on lots and lots of dates.

I have picked up a girl at the bar because I wanted to get laid. That’s chronicled in another blog. It went like this, “If she’s tall, hot and has light eyes, she’s going home with me.”

“Good luck with that!”

Walk in. Three-minutes later meet her gaze, we both smile, and I wink at my friend who said it wouldn’t happen.

Talk to her all night. Had a snatch blocker and didn’t sweat it, because she said, “Can I legitimately get your number?”

I took her to the train station and we made out and then I said, “Do you have to go home?’

“I can do something else.”

“Like come home with me?”

The next day I took her to another train station and she said, “You have my number.”

“Pshaw, you have mine!”

She texted a week and a half later, “Do you like wine?”

Again, white wine is gross, but we carried on through September. I choked down Chardonnay. Then one of the other girls who she was sleeping with made her go exclusive. She said that we should be friends. I said that I have enough friends.

She texted me NYE and said that her situation changed. I saw her on January 1st or 2nd and she told me how much she’d missed me. I bookended with her and the other woman until she moved and then we did distance for almost 2-years. She is either dying now or waiting for a transplant. She was a fucking scary drunk. Black out. Start bar fights. Was physical with me once and I broke up with her two-weeks after I flew home. I overpowered her so she only left a little bruise on the base of my neck. She is a completely different person when she is tipsy. When she is drunk, she’s terrifying. Now, she may die.

I’m reading, “Opening Up” by Pennebaker (1990). It was written in what was termed “The Decade of the Brain.” Now with current research and understanding of neurosequential processing, it’s more of a read into healthy emotional expression done through quasi-experimental designs, but it’s qualitative, and I love Brown’s work, so I’m enjoying this book and it’s an easy read. Promise this isn’t a non sequitur given that the chapter that I read yesterday when waiting for my hair appointment was called, “Inhibition as a Health Threat.” Writing about what I learned through difficult relationships and also letting down my guard is healthy.

Yep. So, it’s not if she’s tall, has light eyes and hot that she’s going home with me, but it is that if she fits that description we’re going to chat. I would love a number. I would love several. I would like a date a week from tomorrow too!