Hello, peeps. Yes, I've been actually having a life and not blogging about one. Lynn and I have been in a serious state of canoodling for the past week. Yes, a week. About 1/3 of the time of our last romantic encounter. And I must say it is probably the happiest I can remember being. We have been inseparable. Doing everything together - including showering. And the sex is amazing. OK, this is probably TMI and will gross you out, but I so love the taste of a woman. Heidi was fun. But she was very conservative when in comes to sex. Her idea of getting wild was doing it with a candle lit. Nothing but the missionary position for her. And seriously - nothing oral, at all. She said she didn't like it. I told her that was probably because she never had it done well. She agreed, but was never adventurous enough to try it with me. I really missed it. Lynn is - well - amazing and adventurous and - wow.
Tonight we parted, briefly, so I could go home - wash clothes and get another weeks worth. Later (after the last dryer load) I'll be headed back to her apartment in Los Gatos.
I have the key to her apartment again.
Maybe I'll get a drawer or two.
Sigh. (of contentment)
I did go paddling with paddle girl on Sunday morning. This was the only time I paddled in the last week. And I simply cannot keep up with her if I don't some extra mileage in during the week. Need to do something about that.
Anyway, she asked about my love life and I gave her the reader's digest version as we shared a thermos of french roast on the dock after our paddle. College buddy, to drinking buddy, to bed buddy, to cheating bitch, back to bed buddy again (new readers, go read here, here, and here, that's the gist of it).
"Do you trust her?" she asked
"Naw." I replied. "But I lover her."
"She's a lucky girl." She shook her head, "Men are weird."
Showing posts with label paddle girl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paddle girl. Show all posts
Monday, December 7
Sunday, November 29
Your butt is steaming
That's what paddle girl said to me as I got out of my boat on Saturday morning. I usually wear wet-suit pants with a dry-top. But unable to remove the funk from the wet suit, I opted for a better smelling fleece pair of pants. Paddle girl makes me work pretty hard - and I work up a good sweat (hence the funk). My fleece pants were drenched with sweat (sorry if that's TMI) and it was probably 45 degrees out. And it was a funny sentiment.
She then invited me out for breakfast. I agreed to go if she let me use the shower at her house first. Her car is in the shop, so we loaded up the boats onto my truck and headed back to her house. She lives a couple minutes from where we were paddling. I took a shower and changed into fresh smelling clothes. Then she cleaned up. She lives in a 2 bedroom house with 1 small bathroom. She shares it with 3 other girls. She has 4 boats in her garage - including a surf-ski and an olympic racing boat. Cool.
We headed out to a local eatery near campus that caters to college students. While we were waiting for our food, and lingering over coffee, she put her hand on mine. OK, I've been dodging this for a while. Looks like I need to take it head-on.
"Um, I think you're really great, but, I'm not at a point where I can get involved with you." I pulled my hand out from under hers. She looked hurt, and surprised.
"The guys from the paddle club. They talked to you."
"Uh, yeah, they did."
"Bastards. I wish they'd mind their own business. They can't tell me who I can date."
"Before you blame them - first, they didn't tell me not to date you. They told me not to hurt you. There's a pretty big difference. I think they really care about you. At least they mean well."
She shook her head, "Yeah, I guess."
"Even if they didn't talk to me, I couldn't get involved with you, not now."
"Why?"
I might as well come clean. "I'm in love."
"I thought big boobs was gone?"
"No not her."
"Runaway bride?"
I laughed - "Shit, this is complicated. The girl that broke my heart."
"Are you with her?"
"No. But... I don't know. I'm not over her. It wouldn't be fair to you."
She narrowed her eyes. "What? You're going to pass on relationships until you're over her? What about Big Boobs?"
"Big boobs was a bad idea. And I know, it sounds stupid - especially when I'm talking to someone as cute as you. Give me some time. We can paddle together. You'll find some young college stud..."
"You mean immature, poor, boys?"
I laughed. I remember being so unhappy about Lynn being involved with inappropriately older men. Now, that I'm older and wiser, I can see some merit to the arrangement.
She then invited me out for breakfast. I agreed to go if she let me use the shower at her house first. Her car is in the shop, so we loaded up the boats onto my truck and headed back to her house. She lives a couple minutes from where we were paddling. I took a shower and changed into fresh smelling clothes. Then she cleaned up. She lives in a 2 bedroom house with 1 small bathroom. She shares it with 3 other girls. She has 4 boats in her garage - including a surf-ski and an olympic racing boat. Cool.
We headed out to a local eatery near campus that caters to college students. While we were waiting for our food, and lingering over coffee, she put her hand on mine. OK, I've been dodging this for a while. Looks like I need to take it head-on.
"Um, I think you're really great, but, I'm not at a point where I can get involved with you." I pulled my hand out from under hers. She looked hurt, and surprised.
"The guys from the paddle club. They talked to you."
"Uh, yeah, they did."
"Bastards. I wish they'd mind their own business. They can't tell me who I can date."
"Before you blame them - first, they didn't tell me not to date you. They told me not to hurt you. There's a pretty big difference. I think they really care about you. At least they mean well."
She shook her head, "Yeah, I guess."
"Even if they didn't talk to me, I couldn't get involved with you, not now."
"Why?"
I might as well come clean. "I'm in love."
"I thought big boobs was gone?"
"No not her."
"Runaway bride?"
I laughed - "Shit, this is complicated. The girl that broke my heart."
"Are you with her?"
"No. But... I don't know. I'm not over her. It wouldn't be fair to you."
She narrowed her eyes. "What? You're going to pass on relationships until you're over her? What about Big Boobs?"
"Big boobs was a bad idea. And I know, it sounds stupid - especially when I'm talking to someone as cute as you. Give me some time. We can paddle together. You'll find some young college stud..."
"You mean immature, poor, boys?"
I laughed. I remember being so unhappy about Lynn being involved with inappropriately older men. Now, that I'm older and wiser, I can see some merit to the arrangement.
Friday, November 27
Give me all your fries
Today I took paddle-girl on our "date" to the paddle club pot luck. I brought a bunch of my turkey rollups in gravy. These were a resounding success, though I did take a bit of good natured ribbing about them not being proper beach food. It was not a great day for a beach party. The temperature never got much over 50 and it was overcast and threatening to rain, fortunately it didn't.
I picked her up in my car at about 10 in the morning. I had the top down, and the windows up with the heater on. She was waiting for me outside of her house. "This is your car?" she asked, with a bit of disbelief.
"Uh, yeah. I can't haul the boats around on it so it's not really practical - but it's really nice. You want the top up?"
"Naw, keep it down. Wow this thing is great." I had pre-warmed the passenger seat with the seat heater. She got in. "Oh, wow - heated seats. I love this. I thought you were poor. You drive that crappy truck and have a cheap boat. I bet you get a lot a girls with this car."
You know, it's weird. I never thought that girls would pay any attention to cars - I always thought it was a guy thing. But girls really do notice this ride. If I had any idea that driving an expensive car would actually be a chick magnet I would have bought one sooner.
Anyway, paddle girl was bringing jojos (fried potato wedges) as her dish to the potluck, and asked me to stop at the local Safeway to pick them up. We went to the deli counter. She told the guy behind the counter "Gimme all your fries." There must have been 4 pounds of them. We took them on a deli tray with a couple of fist fulls of ketchup packets.
"I though this was supposed to be leftovers?" I asked her "What's you do for Thanksgiving?"
"Cheeseburger." She shrugged.
"Not even a turkey sandwich?"
"Naw, just me and my roomates. We need the time to study, not cook." I had long ago forgotten the pressures of carrying a full load of classes.
We arrived at the potluck just as food tables were being set up. The beauty of this arrangement was soon obvious. There are a bunch of club members who are older and do to whole thanksgiving thing, and have a ton of left overs. And there are bunch who are college athletes, with no money and voratious appetites. The kids get fed and the older folks don't need to eat turkey casserole for a week. Win-win.
Maurizio showed up fashionably late, bringing a couple of cases of beer in a cooler. He put the cooler next to the food table, extracted 2 beers from it and made a bee line for Brad. Looks like the two of them will be a couple, if Maurizio has his way.
Debbie sat down with paddle girl and me and proceeded to gossip about folks that she worked with and folks in the paddle club. She quite acted like she was talking with a couple of the girls, which I found amusing. But paddle girl seemed to be annoyed.
Even though this was not a paddling event, some of the guys brought surf boats and were out playing in the waves after lunch.
The event lasted well into the late afternoon. Paddle girl and I headed out about 4 in the afternoon, as the sky began to darken. She was uncharacteristically quiet as we were headed towards Santa Cruz. She is usually quite cheerful. I though something might be wrong.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
Whoops, I thought. During the day there had been nothing "date" like at all about aour outing. While I am truely flattered that a 20 something college girl might be interested in me - a romantic relationship with her is not what I want. "Sure" I replied to her query.
"Are you gay?"
I tried really hard not to laugh - and almost succeeded. She had been talking with Debbie.
"I mean, you told me about big boobs, and your runaway bride - but, I mean you could have been talking about guys."
"Do I seem gay to you?"
"Well, no, but you can't always tell."
"Good point. No, I'm not gay. I've always had a real weakness for women. My buddy Maurizio, however, has always had a weakess for men. Anyway, at the club meeting last week Debbie started talking to me to find out about Maurizio. Sometimes I'll let girls think he's straight - for the occasional humorous outcomes, but I told her he was gay. She just assumed that since I was with him I was gay, too. That it rubs off somehow. I never corrected her."
"Oh, good." She seemed quite relieved at this. "Hey, you want to pull a dawn patrol tomorrow?" I need to get some more hours on the water.
Oh, no. I really don't want to get up that early. "Can we make it morning patrol?"
"Sure. 8:00?"
Much better. "OK."
"My car's still being worked on. Can you pick up me and my boat?"
I do need to keep from getting entangled with this girl.
I picked her up in my car at about 10 in the morning. I had the top down, and the windows up with the heater on. She was waiting for me outside of her house. "This is your car?" she asked, with a bit of disbelief.
"Uh, yeah. I can't haul the boats around on it so it's not really practical - but it's really nice. You want the top up?"
"Naw, keep it down. Wow this thing is great." I had pre-warmed the passenger seat with the seat heater. She got in. "Oh, wow - heated seats. I love this. I thought you were poor. You drive that crappy truck and have a cheap boat. I bet you get a lot a girls with this car."
You know, it's weird. I never thought that girls would pay any attention to cars - I always thought it was a guy thing. But girls really do notice this ride. If I had any idea that driving an expensive car would actually be a chick magnet I would have bought one sooner.
Anyway, paddle girl was bringing jojos (fried potato wedges) as her dish to the potluck, and asked me to stop at the local Safeway to pick them up. We went to the deli counter. She told the guy behind the counter "Gimme all your fries." There must have been 4 pounds of them. We took them on a deli tray with a couple of fist fulls of ketchup packets.
"I though this was supposed to be leftovers?" I asked her "What's you do for Thanksgiving?"
"Cheeseburger." She shrugged.
"Not even a turkey sandwich?"
"Naw, just me and my roomates. We need the time to study, not cook." I had long ago forgotten the pressures of carrying a full load of classes.
We arrived at the potluck just as food tables were being set up. The beauty of this arrangement was soon obvious. There are a bunch of club members who are older and do to whole thanksgiving thing, and have a ton of left overs. And there are bunch who are college athletes, with no money and voratious appetites. The kids get fed and the older folks don't need to eat turkey casserole for a week. Win-win.
Maurizio showed up fashionably late, bringing a couple of cases of beer in a cooler. He put the cooler next to the food table, extracted 2 beers from it and made a bee line for Brad. Looks like the two of them will be a couple, if Maurizio has his way.
Debbie sat down with paddle girl and me and proceeded to gossip about folks that she worked with and folks in the paddle club. She quite acted like she was talking with a couple of the girls, which I found amusing. But paddle girl seemed to be annoyed.
Even though this was not a paddling event, some of the guys brought surf boats and were out playing in the waves after lunch.
The event lasted well into the late afternoon. Paddle girl and I headed out about 4 in the afternoon, as the sky began to darken. She was uncharacteristically quiet as we were headed towards Santa Cruz. She is usually quite cheerful. I though something might be wrong.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
Whoops, I thought. During the day there had been nothing "date" like at all about aour outing. While I am truely flattered that a 20 something college girl might be interested in me - a romantic relationship with her is not what I want. "Sure" I replied to her query.
"Are you gay?"
I tried really hard not to laugh - and almost succeeded. She had been talking with Debbie.
"I mean, you told me about big boobs, and your runaway bride - but, I mean you could have been talking about guys."
"Do I seem gay to you?"
"Well, no, but you can't always tell."
"Good point. No, I'm not gay. I've always had a real weakness for women. My buddy Maurizio, however, has always had a weakess for men. Anyway, at the club meeting last week Debbie started talking to me to find out about Maurizio. Sometimes I'll let girls think he's straight - for the occasional humorous outcomes, but I told her he was gay. She just assumed that since I was with him I was gay, too. That it rubs off somehow. I never corrected her."
"Oh, good." She seemed quite relieved at this. "Hey, you want to pull a dawn patrol tomorrow?" I need to get some more hours on the water.
Oh, no. I really don't want to get up that early. "Can we make it morning patrol?"
"Sure. 8:00?"
Much better. "OK."
"My car's still being worked on. Can you pick up me and my boat?"
I do need to keep from getting entangled with this girl.
Monday, November 23
Ouch
Every... muscle... in... my... body... hurts...
Every single one. It hurts to type. It has been 3 weeks since I was out paddling. It's amazing how much strength and stamina you can lose when you stop exercising. Even for just a couple of weeks.
I've been sleeping in gloriously late in the mornings. Typical wakeup time last week was about 10 a.m. Getting into the office at around 11 - like most of the other engineers. It is so nice. But since I'm sleeping better than I have in ages, there's no time to paddle. And no anger driving the paddling.
But Sunday, I had agreed with paddle-girl to go on our morning paddle, which is at 5:30 a.m. in Santa Cruz. She calls it "dawn patrol". At that hour the sky is just starting to let through some daylight. We're usually on the water by 6. We can see where we are going, but just barely. We do wear strobes on our pfds so the occasional early morning fisherman can see us (and I can see her when she gets too far ahead of me).
Paddle-girl says she took it easy on me - but I was completely dead by the time we were done with a 90 minute work out. I needed her help to pull my 58 pound boat out of the water.
After I slightly recovered she suggested going for coffee.
Gasping for breath I waved at my clothes "I don't think I can go out in polite society like this."
"There's a place up the road with outdoor tables - you're fine."
Trust me, I've got a lot of funk in my wetsuit. I'm not fine. "Sure." I said.
After we loaded the boats onto our respective vehicles I stripped down to my briefs and hosed myself off on the dock and changed into some spare clothes I had in the truck. I think it helped. And paddle-girl laughed at me while I took a very cold hose shower.
We drove up to the coffee shop and ordered some lattes and muffins and sat outside. It was pretty cold - so we had the outdoor seating to ourselves.
"You look more relaxed than usual. Did you make up with 'big-boobs'?"
"Nope. I haven't heard from Heidi since before I went to on my trip."
"Got a replacement for her?"
Umm, why do you ask? I'm starting to wonder if paddle-girl has designs on me. "Nope, my therapist says I shouldn't be sleeping around."
"You're in therapy?" she seemed slightly alarmed.
"Uh, no, bad joke. I kinda had a bad break-up, and Heidi was the 'rebound-girl' I'm ashamed to say."
"Why are you ashamed to say that? I would think that someone with big boobs would make a good rebound girl."
I laughed. I'm hoping she was joking. "I think I hurt her - and I don't feel good about that. Heidi was really fun, but I couldn't give her what she needed."
"Wow, a guy with a concience." She took a long sip of coffee - she seemed to need to think about this. "Hey, are you going to the 'left-over' potluck on friday?"
"Yeah."
"Can you give me a ride? I'm having this guy do the brakes on my car over the weekend."
"Sure, I can drive you."
"Great, it's a date, then."
Every single one. It hurts to type. It has been 3 weeks since I was out paddling. It's amazing how much strength and stamina you can lose when you stop exercising. Even for just a couple of weeks.
I've been sleeping in gloriously late in the mornings. Typical wakeup time last week was about 10 a.m. Getting into the office at around 11 - like most of the other engineers. It is so nice. But since I'm sleeping better than I have in ages, there's no time to paddle. And no anger driving the paddling.
But Sunday, I had agreed with paddle-girl to go on our morning paddle, which is at 5:30 a.m. in Santa Cruz. She calls it "dawn patrol". At that hour the sky is just starting to let through some daylight. We're usually on the water by 6. We can see where we are going, but just barely. We do wear strobes on our pfds so the occasional early morning fisherman can see us (and I can see her when she gets too far ahead of me).
Paddle-girl says she took it easy on me - but I was completely dead by the time we were done with a 90 minute work out. I needed her help to pull my 58 pound boat out of the water.
After I slightly recovered she suggested going for coffee.
Gasping for breath I waved at my clothes "I don't think I can go out in polite society like this."
"There's a place up the road with outdoor tables - you're fine."
Trust me, I've got a lot of funk in my wetsuit. I'm not fine. "Sure." I said.
After we loaded the boats onto our respective vehicles I stripped down to my briefs and hosed myself off on the dock and changed into some spare clothes I had in the truck. I think it helped. And paddle-girl laughed at me while I took a very cold hose shower.
We drove up to the coffee shop and ordered some lattes and muffins and sat outside. It was pretty cold - so we had the outdoor seating to ourselves.
"You look more relaxed than usual. Did you make up with 'big-boobs'?"
"Nope. I haven't heard from Heidi since before I went to on my trip."
"Got a replacement for her?"
Umm, why do you ask? I'm starting to wonder if paddle-girl has designs on me. "Nope, my therapist says I shouldn't be sleeping around."
"You're in therapy?" she seemed slightly alarmed.
"Uh, no, bad joke. I kinda had a bad break-up, and Heidi was the 'rebound-girl' I'm ashamed to say."
"Why are you ashamed to say that? I would think that someone with big boobs would make a good rebound girl."
I laughed. I'm hoping she was joking. "I think I hurt her - and I don't feel good about that. Heidi was really fun, but I couldn't give her what she needed."
"Wow, a guy with a concience." She took a long sip of coffee - she seemed to need to think about this. "Hey, are you going to the 'left-over' potluck on friday?"
"Yeah."
"Can you give me a ride? I'm having this guy do the brakes on my car over the weekend."
"Sure, I can drive you."
"Great, it's a date, then."
Wednesday, November 18
Paddle Club
Today Maurizio and I went to the paddle club meeting. The club meets in the banquet room of a local restaurant – and bar. There seems to be a social half hour before things get started where everyone gets a beer or two and some food from the bar and settles in. Maurizio and I took a table near the rear, and we were joined by paddle girl. She was wearing retro-hightop basketball shoes, faded jeans and a green hoodie. I realized I had never seen her without a dry suit or paddle wear on. She actually has curves.
The meeting started with the recognition of several club members who had set club records or won competitions in the last month. This was followed by an update of their fundraising activities. Most of the members are 20 to 25, and in college. The club raises money to help send unemployed students to competitions that are out of state. Then they went into the upcoming paddling schedule - practices, pool time (to work on Eskimo rolls), outings and races. The coach got up and made a motivational speech, then it was mixer time.
Maurizio made the most of it. He was all over the 20-something hardbodies. He was flitting from group to group – mingling and getting phone numbers. There were about 60 people, but only 5 women. He was in his element. It is always amazing to watch him work a room. I’m in awe.
I went up to the bar to get a refill. A few of the guys followed me.
“So you’re the guy who’s been practicing with paddle-girl?”
“Uh, yeah, we’ve been pulling dawn patrol down in Santa Cruz.”
“Yeah, well.” He puffed his chest out a bit. “You know, paddle-girl has been through some rough times recently. And she doesn’t need any problems.”
“Yeah, she mentioned something about boyfriend stuff.”
The guys nodded. “Are you involved with someone, wife, girlfriend?”
Well, no – but you’re not really my type – I wanted to quip. Decided it was a bad idea. “I’m between attachments at the moment. But, don’t worry, I’m not going after her.” I chuckled, “she told me she was 17.” They laughed. “No worries.”
“We’d really hate for something bad to happen to her.” They never said it, but their meaning was clear, hurt paddle-girl – in any way - and we will break your ass.
Paddle girl has about 50 big brothers looking out for her. Good for her.
I went back to the table and sat down. One of the women came over to my table and sat down. “You’re new.” She observed. “I’m Debbie.”
“Hi, I’m Rich.”
She was friendly and chatty and seemed to like me. We talked for a while and I was beginning to think that maybe she was interested in me. And then she asked “that guy you came with…” Oh, I get it. She’s talking with me to get to Maurizio. Dammit.
I thought about stringing her on – sometimes it produces humorous results, but though better of it. “He’s a really nice guy, but I don’t think you’re his type.”
“Oh. What’s his type?” She said with interest.
“You see that guy in the leather jacket at the bar?” I nodded over at the guy Maurizio was chatting up. “he’s more his type.”
“But he’s a guy…” Her eyes grew wide “Oh. I didn’t know you two were…” She put a hand over her mouth – as if a tragedy occurred. “What a waste…” She looked back at him.
“No…” I was going to protest, but, oh, never mind, no point in denying at this point. Let her think what she wants to think. I sighed and nodded. “Girls often have that reaction to him.”
“Damn, the great looking ones are always gay. Are you two together?”
“No. We’re just friends. I’m…” again I was going to correct her impression of me, but she interrupted. Doesn’t matter – I’m not here to date.
“You know, I know this guy… you might really like him.”
Why do folks think this way about gays? I wanted to respond, I know this hetero guy, you two would really hit it off. You’d like each others plumbing. Why is it that people think that gays only need to find another gay to find a match? At this point I was a bit annoyed at her – so I said “I just got out of a bad relationship and… I’m kinda taking a break between guys. You know.”
“Me too. Guys can be so difficult.” Like if I were gay, I wouldn’t be a guy somehow.
“Oh I know. How come they just don’t ‘get it’?”
It was interesting. Debbie really became a different person, she let her guard down – and I suspect became herself. She wasn’t worried about me hitting on her, or about what kind of an impression she might make on me. She was a lot more relaxed and seemed to have more fun. No wonder girls really like gay guys. Maybe I’ll pull this ruse again someday. Anyway we talked until most folks had left.
Maurizio and I carpooled – he drove, so when he was ready to leave he came by and chatted with Debbie and then we headed out.
“Wow, I love this sport. I got 4 phone numbers!” Maurizio bragged once we were in his car.
“What sport is that, exactly?” I asked.
“Did you see Brad, the one in the leather jacket? He is HOT. God, I'd love to paddle to a deserted island with him.”
“I hate you.” I said. He knows that this is my jealousy of his ability to pick up 4 phone numbers in one evening.
“How about that Debbie? She’s cute.”
“Naw, she thinks I’m gay.”
“Huh?”
I explained our conversation. Maurizio though it was hilarious.
“What about paddle-girl? She seemed nice.”
“Some of the guys told me ‘hands-off’.”
“Well, that’s not very friendly – how come?”
“She’s coming off a bad relationship. They don’t want to see her get hurt again. Anyway she’s inappropriately young for me.”
“How old is she?”
“24.”
“Brad’s 23 – and I think I’m older than you. She sounds perfect to me. We could double.”
I laughed at him.
“You need to show me how to paddle. I guess I need to buy a boat. How does all that work?”
“You’re going to need a lot of stamina to keep up with Brad… “
“Yeah.” Maurizio replied. He was nodding and had a big smile on his face.
Perv.
Paddle girl and I will be doing the dawn patrol on Sunday. I missed it this week, due to disabling jet lag. And the club is having a “left over” pot luck on Friday on the beach – Maurizio insists on going. There’s no paddling and there will be drinking. Perfect for him.
The meeting started with the recognition of several club members who had set club records or won competitions in the last month. This was followed by an update of their fundraising activities. Most of the members are 20 to 25, and in college. The club raises money to help send unemployed students to competitions that are out of state. Then they went into the upcoming paddling schedule - practices, pool time (to work on Eskimo rolls), outings and races. The coach got up and made a motivational speech, then it was mixer time.
Maurizio made the most of it. He was all over the 20-something hardbodies. He was flitting from group to group – mingling and getting phone numbers. There were about 60 people, but only 5 women. He was in his element. It is always amazing to watch him work a room. I’m in awe.
I went up to the bar to get a refill. A few of the guys followed me.
“So you’re the guy who’s been practicing with paddle-girl?”
“Uh, yeah, we’ve been pulling dawn patrol down in Santa Cruz.”
“Yeah, well.” He puffed his chest out a bit. “You know, paddle-girl has been through some rough times recently. And she doesn’t need any problems.”
“Yeah, she mentioned something about boyfriend stuff.”
The guys nodded. “Are you involved with someone, wife, girlfriend?”
Well, no – but you’re not really my type – I wanted to quip. Decided it was a bad idea. “I’m between attachments at the moment. But, don’t worry, I’m not going after her.” I chuckled, “she told me she was 17.” They laughed. “No worries.”
“We’d really hate for something bad to happen to her.” They never said it, but their meaning was clear, hurt paddle-girl – in any way - and we will break your ass.
Paddle girl has about 50 big brothers looking out for her. Good for her.
I went back to the table and sat down. One of the women came over to my table and sat down. “You’re new.” She observed. “I’m Debbie.”
“Hi, I’m Rich.”
She was friendly and chatty and seemed to like me. We talked for a while and I was beginning to think that maybe she was interested in me. And then she asked “that guy you came with…” Oh, I get it. She’s talking with me to get to Maurizio. Dammit.
I thought about stringing her on – sometimes it produces humorous results, but though better of it. “He’s a really nice guy, but I don’t think you’re his type.”
“Oh. What’s his type?” She said with interest.
“You see that guy in the leather jacket at the bar?” I nodded over at the guy Maurizio was chatting up. “he’s more his type.”
“But he’s a guy…” Her eyes grew wide “Oh. I didn’t know you two were…” She put a hand over her mouth – as if a tragedy occurred. “What a waste…” She looked back at him.
“No…” I was going to protest, but, oh, never mind, no point in denying at this point. Let her think what she wants to think. I sighed and nodded. “Girls often have that reaction to him.”
“Damn, the great looking ones are always gay. Are you two together?”
“No. We’re just friends. I’m…” again I was going to correct her impression of me, but she interrupted. Doesn’t matter – I’m not here to date.
“You know, I know this guy… you might really like him.”
Why do folks think this way about gays? I wanted to respond, I know this hetero guy, you two would really hit it off. You’d like each others plumbing. Why is it that people think that gays only need to find another gay to find a match? At this point I was a bit annoyed at her – so I said “I just got out of a bad relationship and… I’m kinda taking a break between guys. You know.”
“Me too. Guys can be so difficult.” Like if I were gay, I wouldn’t be a guy somehow.
“Oh I know. How come they just don’t ‘get it’?”
It was interesting. Debbie really became a different person, she let her guard down – and I suspect became herself. She wasn’t worried about me hitting on her, or about what kind of an impression she might make on me. She was a lot more relaxed and seemed to have more fun. No wonder girls really like gay guys. Maybe I’ll pull this ruse again someday. Anyway we talked until most folks had left.
Maurizio and I carpooled – he drove, so when he was ready to leave he came by and chatted with Debbie and then we headed out.
“Wow, I love this sport. I got 4 phone numbers!” Maurizio bragged once we were in his car.
“What sport is that, exactly?” I asked.
“Did you see Brad, the one in the leather jacket? He is HOT. God, I'd love to paddle to a deserted island with him.”
“I hate you.” I said. He knows that this is my jealousy of his ability to pick up 4 phone numbers in one evening.
“How about that Debbie? She’s cute.”
“Naw, she thinks I’m gay.”
“Huh?”
I explained our conversation. Maurizio though it was hilarious.
“What about paddle-girl? She seemed nice.”
“Some of the guys told me ‘hands-off’.”
“Well, that’s not very friendly – how come?”
“She’s coming off a bad relationship. They don’t want to see her get hurt again. Anyway she’s inappropriately young for me.”
“How old is she?”
“24.”
“Brad’s 23 – and I think I’m older than you. She sounds perfect to me. We could double.”
I laughed at him.
“You need to show me how to paddle. I guess I need to buy a boat. How does all that work?”
“You’re going to need a lot of stamina to keep up with Brad… “
“Yeah.” Maurizio replied. He was nodding and had a big smile on his face.
Perv.
Paddle girl and I will be doing the dawn patrol on Sunday. I missed it this week, due to disabling jet lag. And the club is having a “left over” pot luck on Friday on the beach – Maurizio insists on going. There’s no paddling and there will be drinking. Perfect for him.
Sunday, November 1
The Hunger
It was 1 a.m.
I was tossing and turning in bed (alone) unable to sleep. After having lost Heidi I wasn't sure what to expect. Yeah - I'm getting pretty good at being dumped.
There was an emptiness in the pit of my stomach. A yearning I hadn't felt in what seems like years.
I was hungry. Not just able to eat. Not just a biological reaction to low blood sugar. It was a sensuous desire for food. I hadn't felt this since the ugliness.
I wandered over the the refrigerator. There was some left over grilled NY steak. I had some good crusty italian bread. Steak sandwich it is.
One thing that a good sandwich needs is a good mayonaise. I cracked an egg and whipped up the yolk up with canola oil and fresh lemon juice. I put in some fresh grated horseradish and capers. Yes, I really made a horseradish caper mayo from scratch for a midnight snack. I'm that much of a foodie.
Then I heated up my cast iron skillet and toasted two slices of bread, after brushing them with olive oil. Then I sliced the steak as thin as I could. I bunched it up - almost into a burger like form - and gave it a good sear on the outside. There was still lots of juicy medium rare steak in the middle. During the searing process I melted some sharp white vermont cheddar on it.
I topped the meat with some baby arugula, a few slices of tomato, a small splash of balsamic vinegar (from these guys - really good) and some very thinly sliced red onion.
I opened a bottle of Bordeaux and started into my snack. Damn that's good. I haven't enjoyed food this much in such a long time.
_______________________________________
I did drag my sleepy butt out of bed at stupid-o-clock in the morning to go paddling with paddle girl. I missed her party on Friday night, but we still had our standing 5:30 a.m. paddle in Santa Cruz on Sunday morning. I really feel better about this now that I know that she is over 18.
I arrived at the dock and, as usual, there she was stretching.
"Hey"
"Ready for some pain?"
"Yeah - I could use a good workout."
"How's big boobs?"
"Uh, her name's Heidi."
"OK, how's Heidi?"
"She dumped me."
"Man, I'm sorry to hear that. That sucks. What happened?"
"It's complicated." I busied myself with getting the boat set up. "So, why'd you lie?" The irony of that question was not lost on me.
"Huh?"
"Why'd you lie?"
"About what?"
"Being 17."
"Oh. Uh, that. Busted, huh?"
"It doesn't really matter, but I'm just curious. I mean you don't even look 17. I don't care how old you are. So why?"
"I've been paddling since I was 12. Competing since 14. This is a very male dominated sport - lots of testosterone. Paddlers are always hitting on me. Older guys - well the creepy ones - tend to leave me alone if I tell 'em I'm 17. Learned it when I was young - it worked so I kept on doing it. You're right, I'm probably getting too old for that trick."
Uh, yeah, that means I look like one of the creepy ones. "You could try just saying 'not interested'"
"Guys can be really persistent."
I laughed, "This is true."
"How'd you figure it out?" She asked.
"Google - I googled your paddling club to see about the party, saw your records. You paddled at the world championships 2 years ago?"
"Yeah, that was awesome." She regaled me with stories of her competitions - pretty cool. Turns out she just missed making the olympic team in 2008. But the U.S. does not field a very competitive paddling team. The Germans really dominate the sport. The Americans rarely make it to finals.
We paddled for 6 miles and I got a really good workout.
As we were packing up to leave, she asked "Next week?"
"Yeah." And then I remembered. "No, I can't - I'm in Tokyo next weekend." She seemed surprised that I might have a job that would take me to Tokyo. (surprised, mind you - not impressed) "Maybe the weekend after. I'll call you."
Thursday, October 29
Liar, Liar, Yada, Yada
Paddle Girl is a big fat liar!
She invited me to a beach party on Friday night with her paddle club. It sounded interesting, so I decided to google the group and learn a bit about them. They have a website. Looks like a pretty cool club. It’s for really anyone that wants to get out and paddle in the SF bay area, but there is an emphasis on competition. The head of the club is the rowing coach at a local college. I think I’ll join. I could use some coaching and I definitely could use some more paddle buddies. Occasional competition would be good, too. They have folks all over the bay area, so I should be able to get out in a group more often than I do now. I really should not paddle solo as much as I do. Looking at pictures of their past events, most of the membership is guys – but that’s fine, I’m not using it as a dating club.
Anyway for the members that are competitive, there is a database of their results in officially sanctioned events. So I took a look at paddle girl. She’s been in a lot of races with the college team over the past 3 years. Which I found a bit unusual for a 17 year old. One link I looked at has results posted on the USA Canoe and Kayak website. This is the organization that fields US competitors in international competitions – and the Olympics. Thing is they list the ages of the competitors with all the results.
Paddle girl is 24.
I thought she looked older than 17.
A bit more googling and I found that she is an undergrad at the local college, and she is on their paddling team – she is seriously competitive and has raced in an international competition (women’s flatwater K-1 1K sprint, K-1 10K, and a K-4 500). Now I don’t feel so bad that she can out paddle me.
I also feel like less of a perv.
She invited me to a beach party on Friday night with her paddle club. It sounded interesting, so I decided to google the group and learn a bit about them. They have a website. Looks like a pretty cool club. It’s for really anyone that wants to get out and paddle in the SF bay area, but there is an emphasis on competition. The head of the club is the rowing coach at a local college. I think I’ll join. I could use some coaching and I definitely could use some more paddle buddies. Occasional competition would be good, too. They have folks all over the bay area, so I should be able to get out in a group more often than I do now. I really should not paddle solo as much as I do. Looking at pictures of their past events, most of the membership is guys – but that’s fine, I’m not using it as a dating club.
Anyway for the members that are competitive, there is a database of their results in officially sanctioned events. So I took a look at paddle girl. She’s been in a lot of races with the college team over the past 3 years. Which I found a bit unusual for a 17 year old. One link I looked at has results posted on the USA Canoe and Kayak website. This is the organization that fields US competitors in international competitions – and the Olympics. Thing is they list the ages of the competitors with all the results.
Paddle girl is 24.
I thought she looked older than 17.
A bit more googling and I found that she is an undergrad at the local college, and she is on their paddling team – she is seriously competitive and has raced in an international competition (women’s flatwater K-1 1K sprint, K-1 10K, and a K-4 500). Now I don’t feel so bad that she can out paddle me.
I also feel like less of a perv.
Insecurity and Drunkeness
Hello loyal readers - yes both of you. Sorry I've not posted for a while. Life has been hectic. Let me catch you up on the high points.
Next week: Japan and China. Yes, Kristen wrangled me a trip to the far east for a promotional marketing tour for our latest release. Pete's headed for Europe, the CEO to NY, Kristen's taking Silicon Valley and Boston. We are going to spread the word about all the great things we've been doing at work. I leave on Monday for Japan. Two days in Tokyo, one in Osaka. Then on to Shang Hai and some other places I can't pronounce. Should be fun.
On Saturday night Heidi and I dined at MacArthur Park in Palo Alto, a venerable steakhouse. Not my favorite place, but Heidi likes it. Despite a fall chill in the air we took the new ride and left the top down. Valets were suitably impressed and left it right by the door, to create an ambiance of elegance - well that's what Heidi said.
Dinner was good, accompanied by a great bottle of wine. After dinner we took a stroll through downtown Palo Alto and then went back to her place. We sat outside of her cottage by the pool and had some more wine. If she was not going to have me over for the night I would sleep in my car around the corner. I had had too much to be driving.
"Why are you with me?" she asked, after a lull in the conversation - I knew I needed to keep things moving, oh well.
"I've grown rather fond of you. Haven't you noticed."
She scoffed mildly. "Yeah, the secretaries at work are jealous. You kind overdid it with the flowers."
"The two dozen roses were a mistake - I only ordered one."
"Rich, but why me?"
"Why not you? You have an amazing accent that makes me want to just eat you up. You're beautiful and witty and ..."
"So why do I feel so insecure?" she interrupted.
Oh, crap. How do I answer this one? Because you know I'm in love with Lynn. "Because you're silly." Let's hope some wine and that answer do the job.
"Seriously. You have it all. The job, the car, international travel..." I told her about the trip. She sighed. "You're gorgeous and you're hung like a north wood's bear." OK, that cognacs gone to her head. I'm not even sure if bears have big penises - was that an insult or a compliment? "You know that Greg - he respects you. I can tell." Greg is a guy I've known for a while - before he got famous - but if you read Forbes or Wired you've head of him. He is an internet gazzillionare. Heidi and I had dinner with him a few weeks back. "My dad respects you. He has 4000 people working for him. And he respects only about 10 of them. They all make over a million a year." I thought about asking if he had any openings... "My dad has never respected any of my boyfriends." Ah. Now I get it.
I looked her in the eyes. "I am not going to leave you for Lynn. I promise. Guys do a lot of stupid things for girls. But I'm not going to do that. I've been very honest and open with you. I've never given you a reason not to trust me. Please trust me."
She kissed me. Yes, she was drunk, more that I was. She took me into her cottage and then into her bed. "Come here you big bear" she said as she pulled me into her bedroom.
At 3 in the morning, I remembered. I had made arrangements with paddle girl to go paddling on Sunday morning at 5:30. I wanted to text her - "Got lucky Saturday night, go without me - hung over." I never got her number. I could just stand her up. It's not like it's a serious commitment or anything - this is just paddling. But I wanted to go.
I dragged my butt out of bed a bit before 4 (to Heidi's sleepy protests, "Aren't you going to make me breakfast" she whined, "You're going paddling? You're crazy") headed home, took a shower, loaded up the truck with all my paddling gear and headed down to Santa Cruz.
I got there just at about 5:30. Paddle girl was doing her stretching exercises on the dock. I dragged my boat down. "Morning."
She looked up at me. "You look tired."
"I was out late last night."
"Yeah?" She was expecting details. It was hard not to think of her as one of the guys - and this as a locker room.
"I got lucky."
"I thought you were getting over your runaway bride? Now you're sleeping around?"
I was about to say it's complicated. "I'm kinda hung over, too."
"We'll take it easy." She told me. Of course, her taking it easy isn't that easy. "Was she cute?" She was prying for details, like one of the guys.
"Big boobs." The conversation struck me as absurd.
We paddled about 5 miles in an hour and 10, by my watch. When we got back to the harbor, I hurled up my breakfast and coffee - well never mind the details. I did manage to get everything in the water - so there was nothing to clean up.
"Sorry" paddle girl said. "I didn't mean to make you do that."
"Don't worry" I said and rinsed my mouth. "Hell of a night."
We cleaned up the boats and loaded them on the cars. As she was getting into her car she called me over. "Hey - my paddling team - we're having a party on Friday at ---- beach. Bon fire, barbecue, beer. Wanna come?"
"You can't have beer."
"No not me, you know, parents, coaches, old folks from the paddle club. You'll fit right in."
Uh, thanks, yeah, me and the old folks can compare walkers and depends. "I'm not sure. Can I call you?" She gave me her number. "I wanted to call you this morning - and cancel."
"So you could stay in bed with big boobs?"
"Yes, actually."
"The workout was good for you. Sweat out the hangover, that's what I do. See ya." She drove off. 17 years old and she has hangovers??
Next week: Japan and China. Yes, Kristen wrangled me a trip to the far east for a promotional marketing tour for our latest release. Pete's headed for Europe, the CEO to NY, Kristen's taking Silicon Valley and Boston. We are going to spread the word about all the great things we've been doing at work. I leave on Monday for Japan. Two days in Tokyo, one in Osaka. Then on to Shang Hai and some other places I can't pronounce. Should be fun.
On Saturday night Heidi and I dined at MacArthur Park in Palo Alto, a venerable steakhouse. Not my favorite place, but Heidi likes it. Despite a fall chill in the air we took the new ride and left the top down. Valets were suitably impressed and left it right by the door, to create an ambiance of elegance - well that's what Heidi said.
Dinner was good, accompanied by a great bottle of wine. After dinner we took a stroll through downtown Palo Alto and then went back to her place. We sat outside of her cottage by the pool and had some more wine. If she was not going to have me over for the night I would sleep in my car around the corner. I had had too much to be driving.
"Why are you with me?" she asked, after a lull in the conversation - I knew I needed to keep things moving, oh well.
"I've grown rather fond of you. Haven't you noticed."
She scoffed mildly. "Yeah, the secretaries at work are jealous. You kind overdid it with the flowers."
"The two dozen roses were a mistake - I only ordered one."
"Rich, but why me?"
"Why not you? You have an amazing accent that makes me want to just eat you up. You're beautiful and witty and ..."
"So why do I feel so insecure?" she interrupted.
Oh, crap. How do I answer this one? Because you know I'm in love with Lynn. "Because you're silly." Let's hope some wine and that answer do the job.
"Seriously. You have it all. The job, the car, international travel..." I told her about the trip. She sighed. "You're gorgeous and you're hung like a north wood's bear." OK, that cognacs gone to her head. I'm not even sure if bears have big penises - was that an insult or a compliment? "You know that Greg - he respects you. I can tell." Greg is a guy I've known for a while - before he got famous - but if you read Forbes or Wired you've head of him. He is an internet gazzillionare. Heidi and I had dinner with him a few weeks back. "My dad respects you. He has 4000 people working for him. And he respects only about 10 of them. They all make over a million a year." I thought about asking if he had any openings... "My dad has never respected any of my boyfriends." Ah. Now I get it.
I looked her in the eyes. "I am not going to leave you for Lynn. I promise. Guys do a lot of stupid things for girls. But I'm not going to do that. I've been very honest and open with you. I've never given you a reason not to trust me. Please trust me."
She kissed me. Yes, she was drunk, more that I was. She took me into her cottage and then into her bed. "Come here you big bear" she said as she pulled me into her bedroom.
At 3 in the morning, I remembered. I had made arrangements with paddle girl to go paddling on Sunday morning at 5:30. I wanted to text her - "Got lucky Saturday night, go without me - hung over." I never got her number. I could just stand her up. It's not like it's a serious commitment or anything - this is just paddling. But I wanted to go.
I dragged my butt out of bed a bit before 4 (to Heidi's sleepy protests, "Aren't you going to make me breakfast" she whined, "You're going paddling? You're crazy") headed home, took a shower, loaded up the truck with all my paddling gear and headed down to Santa Cruz.
I got there just at about 5:30. Paddle girl was doing her stretching exercises on the dock. I dragged my boat down. "Morning."
She looked up at me. "You look tired."
"I was out late last night."
"Yeah?" She was expecting details. It was hard not to think of her as one of the guys - and this as a locker room.
"I got lucky."
"I thought you were getting over your runaway bride? Now you're sleeping around?"
I was about to say it's complicated. "I'm kinda hung over, too."
"We'll take it easy." She told me. Of course, her taking it easy isn't that easy. "Was she cute?" She was prying for details, like one of the guys.
"Big boobs." The conversation struck me as absurd.
We paddled about 5 miles in an hour and 10, by my watch. When we got back to the harbor, I hurled up my breakfast and coffee - well never mind the details. I did manage to get everything in the water - so there was nothing to clean up.
"Sorry" paddle girl said. "I didn't mean to make you do that."
"Don't worry" I said and rinsed my mouth. "Hell of a night."
We cleaned up the boats and loaded them on the cars. As she was getting into her car she called me over. "Hey - my paddling team - we're having a party on Friday at ---- beach. Bon fire, barbecue, beer. Wanna come?"
"You can't have beer."
"No not me, you know, parents, coaches, old folks from the paddle club. You'll fit right in."
Uh, thanks, yeah, me and the old folks can compare walkers and depends. "I'm not sure. Can I call you?" She gave me her number. "I wanted to call you this morning - and cancel."
"So you could stay in bed with big boobs?"
"Yes, actually."
"The workout was good for you. Sweat out the hangover, that's what I do. See ya." She drove off. 17 years old and she has hangovers??
Tuesday, October 20
Martinis
“I can’t lose her. I just can’t.” I was sharing a martini with Kristen after work. I was referring to my relationship with Heidi, which seems to be on its last legs.
“Why not, you don’t seem like you’re that into her.”
“I’m not” I sighed, “but if I don’t have her, there’s no reason for me not to go back to Lynn. And I really don’t want to go back to Lynn. But damn it, I’m still in love with her.”
I took a long sip of my martini and signaled the barkeep for another.
“Oh, and I’ve got a new paddle buddy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. 17 year old girl from Santa Cruz.”
“Oh Rich.” Kristen gave a good belly laugh. “Keep yourself out of jail.”
“She’s my paddle buddy – not my f-buddy”
“I know, but Rich…” and she laughed and shook her head. Yeah I know, I’m a guy and she’s a 17 year old girl.
“She’s a great paddler – better than I am. You know I could paddle rings around unmitigated beast. But I can barely keep up with this girl.”
“Welcome to getting old, Rich.”
We commiserated over bad relationships for a while and finished our martinis. As we were leaving, Kristen said “So you can stay away from Lynn for Heidi – someone you’re not that into.”
“Yeah” I replied.
“You really ought to be able to stay away from Lynn for you.”
Sunday, October 18
Sunday Paddle
So today I did an early paddle in Santa Cruz
She was on the dock next to her boat doing some stretching exercises. Waiting for me? I pulled down my boat and dragged it over to the dock. “hey”
“Morning. Looks like a good day for a paddle.”
“Where you headed?”
“East, Aptos. Maybe 4 miles out.”
“Looks like a good breeze today, don’t you want a downwind return”
“Nope. I need a challenge. You coming?”
“Yeah. Can’t let you paddle alone.”
“Better stretch.”
I set up my boat and did some stretching exercises. Then we set off. The seas were getting pretty rough. She was in front of me heading out of the harbor where we go past some breakers. She got caught by a wave, and went over. “Oh, shit” I thought to myself. I pulled a few hard strokes to catch up to her so I could do a rescue, and she pops out of the water, in her boat, laughing. She executed a perfect Eskimo roll. If I went down like that I would need a rescue. Wow.
We did 8 miles in less than an hour and a half. It took everything I had to keep up with her. I am going to be a hurtin puppy for a few days.
Once we were back in the harbor she set a slow pace. We leisurely paddled back to the dock. Even with a cool down, I was still out of breath. We threw our boats up on the dock. I took off my dry top and lay down on the dock with my feet in the water. She sat down next to me. “You OK?”
“Yeah, fine, no problem” gasp, gasp.
“You’re a pretty good sport. I’m impressed you can keep up with me. I’ll go easy on you next time.”
I guess there’s going to be a next time. Looks like I have a new paddle buddy. “You know, when you spilled on the way out of the harbor I thought we were done.”
“Don’t know where that wave came from. But I got a bomb-proof roll. You think I’d go out in these conditions with out it? Can’t you roll?” Maybe she’s not as suicidal as I thought. If you have an expert Eskimo roll these conditions are not nearly as dangerous.
“In good conditions.” I replied
“Oh. I didn’t know. I’ll keep a better eye on you.”
OK, I’m humbled. This 17 year old school girl is a way better athlete than I am.
We sat there on the dock talking amiably for about 20 minutes. And then she said “He got me pregnant.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa, you are not telling me this. “I’m really sorry to hear that – but, you know, you should not be sharing this with a 30 something guy you met at a dock.”
“You seem pretty cool.”
“Yeah, I am, but this is getting into an inappropriate area.”
“So were you married?”
“No.”
“Commitment phobic?”
“I was engaged.”
“You got cold feet?”
“Nope - she did. 2 days before the wedding. She just disappeared.” I knew I shouldn’t go on, but it was so easy to talk to her. “We had the church booked, the reception paid for, flowers, non refundable plane tickets, the works, and she ran away.”
“Wow, that’s cold.”
“Yeah. I call her the runaway bride. Now I think all women are scum.”
“Hey!”
“But paddlers are cool. And you, next time, birth control. They have pills for that kind of thing.” I stood up. Damn, I’m not getting involved with a teenager. My life is f*cked up enough as it is.
“God, you sound like my mother.”
“Yeah, well your mother sounds pretty smart. And I’m your paddle buddy, not your relationship coach. You want to talk about boys pick on someone your own age. OK?”
She shook her head.
“Next Sunday?” She asked.
“I’ll be here.”
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