All the clues I haven’t got (Now with less editing!)

Summer of 1989 I went down to L.A. for a week, came back and moved my shit out of the marital home. I got a fairly cheap and seedy but quiet apartment way down Powell towards Gresham. That probably doesn’t make a lot of sense if you’re not familiar with Portland. There was a horse riding pasture on the way. I started dating for the first time since I was a teenager.

The tail end of free love and shit still resonated in the seventies, so I didn’t really date as a teenager so much as expressed an interest and if it were reciprocated we’d have sex. It went something like “Hey, ya wanna?” “Sure.”

I was dating the woman who gave me that song up above. She gave me the whole album. She had some sweet verbose story behind why she gave it to me. I don’t remember, it involved being in a listening room for an afternoon. It might have been my birthday, 1990, maybe 91 possibly 92. It was kind of prophetic.

We spent most of our time together having sex. I needed that, I hadn’t really considered why she did. She was recently separated from her husband and it wasn’t until we were halfway through what time we had when she said she had never had an orgasm. She’d wake me up at least three times a night. She thought I was going to be the guy. I wasn’t, I’m not. I didn’t mind trying to be until I did, mind that is. I figured — no. Whatever followed ‘I figured’ was going to be a lie. It starts with a lie after all.

There are a lot of ways to be romantically in love with someone. One of them is an intoxicating sexual chemistry. I had that, but not with her. I’m a serial monogamist and I had a chance to be with the first woman I dated after I separated from the seahag. All the ‘I figured’s’ in the world are hindsight excuses. One weekend of intoxicating chemistry was worth blowing off hours of sex a day. Besides, she really needed to be back with her husband. Even in hindsight the weekend was worth it.

Want to know why me and intoxicating weren’t together? Me too. It’s not like we shared opinions or backgrounds or, I don’t know, a love of the arts. It’s more like I’d smell the pillow she had laid her head on and get hard. Not from sweet memories or any romantic illusions or anything like that; her scent was — intoxicating. We didn’t finish each others sentences or anything and the sex wasn’t tantric or aerobatic or extra kinky. She didn’t turn heads when she walked by, but Christ, I don’t know why, not from her shape but her scent.

I had more in common with the woman who gave me the song, and she might have turned heads, and if I said “the wind sure do blow …” she’d have my cock in her mouth. With Miss Intoxicating (aw, shit, Mrs. Intoxicating, she had just separated when we first met too, in fact her future ex busted my side view mirrors on like our third date, peeking in through the window) shit lost my train of thought in the parenthesis. Oh. Yeah. With Mrs. Intoxicating we broke up after each evening together. She had this theory we were transition for one another and it was a one night stand. I didn’t know how or even if I wanted to disagree. That went on for months and then she moved and I hadn’t heard from her until she said she had the weekend free.

The chemistry wasn’t one sided. It’s not that she was fickle or stubborn. She really had just wanted a one night stand, but, shit, intoxicating. For a guy who had been married his entire adult life … wait, that’s a shitty way to start that sentence. I dated a lot in a few short years, met a woman who I invited to live with me and the kids, were planning on getting married and then we didn’t. Spent another few years casually dating, met the second wife and we got married within a few weeks. Heh, I didn’t invite her to come live with me for a few months after getting married.

Current GF has some sense of timing. She blew my whole train of thought. Um, I mean I just got off phone with her. There was a reason, besides paw rehab, for writing this entry. All I can remember now is thinking of the song. Current GF is a good mixture of chemistry and other things. She has electric paws, our scent together is intoxicating, but it’s touch that’s chemical. That and I’ve had a crush on her since puberty.

I know my intent here was not to titillate or reminisce, but, shit. I should start this things with a thesis statement or an outline or something. I babble and then am easily distracted.

Somehow it was going to tie into movie kissing and fighting, you know, like top lip over top lip, or the backhand roundhouse or swords. I don’t know why there is so much sword fighting on TV, but, when one guy has two and the other guy has one at some point the guy with one takes a chopping blow from high up and the guy with two crosses his swords (or hers) to block. The fuck. Parry with one and gut him with the other. Oh, yeah, and they spin around too, in the real world the motherfucker what spins gets his or her back sliced open. They also seem to fuck with underwear and bras on in the movies a lot. Or at least underwear on cable. Maybe I missed the whole dry hump revolution.

Ok. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with tv fighting n fucking. But seriously, it’s like it’s all choreographed by someone who has only read about fucking n fighting. A back handed roundhouse. Hmmm, maybe written by a tennis pro. A prancing tennis pro. In underwear. Anyhow, chemistry, it’s good, but, apparently not good enough to be a reason. Oh, yeah, that could have been the train of thought; I don’t have a clue. That’d sure explain why I can’t remember being clueless and all.