[Editor's note: I'd rather the lady not read this. As a certain showman said: "Someone took the cork out of my lunch." ]

Ah well.

Another relationship returned to friendship; this last with a lady of charm and wit, a beguiling minx who I savored time with; a woman who could keep pace with me, outflank me from time to time, and always keep me on my toes.

In short, an equal, someone to laugh and run with, not around. One I care about. And slips of my tongue; my failings; a series of poor habits, fitted to a lost soul, and it is at an end. She killed it, too worn by relationships past to deal with another damaged boy. The result? A weekend cut short, a vituperative thought toward those who wore her so…and entirely too much melodrama.

She asked if I was all right, after. Yes, and no.

Yes, I will build anew. Go forth and conquer new shores, plunder riches of kings, wooden sword in hand,  all a-grin with the sheer joy of living.

No, I will not see her like; she is a rare bird, a Phoenix, a companion like no other. I do not know her, but know that I would have liked to. I just wish I saw her in flight…and as something other than friend. Someone to lay down by, to stand with, to rely and be relied upon.  

Here, to return to a blue-cheese olive and fine Italian vermouth, a crushed bit of mint, a sigh in a glass. [It's been a while since I mulled the world in the swirl-armed galaxy of gin.]

She dances, and claims it was her issues. I…..

Bah. We are friends again, and I will content with that.

On to other things, and, perhaps, New York?