Oh, I'm happy

Coach just posted preliminary lineups for San Diego. I'm stroking the B 8+. Sweet. He's got a note that my seat is contestable, but I know I'm faster than the guys I'm up against, and I'm only going to get faster this season. I'd actually love the seat race, to see how I make a difference on the water. I know I move boats.

In other news, my performance this morning put me at 8th fastest on the squad, 5th fastest with the weight adjustment (a few guys who out pulled me also outweigh me by a wide margin). Age adjustment kicks my ass, but dropping my average split just 1 second puts me at 8th place there, too. So I'm feeling good about it. Good to be in the top 8.

Dropping the hammer

This morning I did my first 2000m on the erg since almost a year ago. My goal was to crack 6:48 (1:42/ 500m), which was the time I put in at last year's peninsula indoor regatta (a poorly paced, hang on for dear life, wow, I'm not ready for this performance). I had plenty of evidence that 1:42 was a sustainable pace. I just wanted to get one good piece in so I could use it to judge what I was really capable of.

I went 6:45.9. So 1:41.5/500m. It was very comfortable (insofar as 2K is ever comfortable) and I could have hit the sprint sooner. Last 500m instead of last 300m. I went 1:41.3, 1:42.0, 1:42.3, 1:40.4.

I'm feeling a lot stronger than I have for a long while. Part of this is probably because I am, in fact, stronger. I'm weighing 180 these days, which for me usually requires lifting and eating. I've never really been above 180 for long without really hitting the weights and the dinner table. I've not done very much with weights at all, and I'm still as lean as ever, so I must have picked up a few extra pounds of muscle. Score.

The indoor regatta is in two weeks. I'd like to crack 6:40. It's possible.

All in all, I'm feeling good about where I'm at in my rowing life. After the erg work we watched some video from Saturday's row. There was a lot of footage of me. I'm still a little tighter in the shoulders than I should be, and I was dumping my finish a bit, but all in all I looked really good. I was getting a lot of length forward (collapsing slightly) and getting my catch in very well before driving. Lineups for San Diego will be out soon. There's a very fast "B" age boat being assembled. I may be in there, though I may also be in the "open" lineup, which means I'll be racing Cal, Washington, etc. Our goal there wouldn't be to win, but to make the final and then make some college kids feel bad that some old guys beat them. Wherever I end up, I'm happy.

By the way

The kid downstairs? Throwing a bedtime tantrum. Excellent. Super. Not at all making me want to dust his toys with arsenic. Not at all.

How corporate thinking can help hippies

I'm no fan of our current president. I've voted against his dumb ass every chance I've had. And I'd love to see someone else in charge. The best I can hope for, I guess, is that 2008 brings someone who sees that unilateralist foreign policy will eventually bite us in the ass.

And I have a lot of respect and admiration for people who are so passionate about these things they devote time and energy to making the world change for the better. I'm all for that.

But the SF resistance movement is misguided at best and delusional at worst.

I was in the Haight Sunday morning seeking breakfast. A rapidly rusting blue conversion van from the 80's was crawling up the street blasting out some hippie's rant against the Bush regime over a PA system. The PA transformed the torrent of thoroughly unprepared remarks into a stream of loudspeakerspeak which was as intelligible as that which we encounter in the drive-thru window. Would you like impeachment with that?

Later there were some green haired, pierced and dread-locked folk distributing "Bush step down" fliers exhorting folks to turn out for some rally in SF tomorrow night during the state of the Union Address. The announced 6 PM activity invites attendees to "drown out Bush's lies" in real time during the address. So much for the left's open minded consideration of the other side's point of view.

Some advice for the hippies:

1. Try working within the system. We’ve got an election this year, yes? Try working in districts where there’s a chance to replace an incumbent with a more progressive alternative. This might even mean (Horror!) trying to make sure a moderate republican wins a primary instead of a bible thumping reactionary. While that may be a setback for the Green party and pro-legalization forces everywhere, it’ll make it harder for the far right to get its way. Baby steps, kids.
   
2. Try changing the minds of the indifferent. I have no facts to back this up, but my bet is that the Haight neighborhood didn’t vote for W. Just a hunch. If your goal is to get a big turnout for your rally, by all means, mobilize the faithful fringe. But if your goal is to assemble a group of protesters with whom the mainstream swing voter will identify and sympathize, you need to get outside your neighborhood. When Bill & Doris Mainstream America see the dreadlocked San Francisco hippies ranting deliriously about Bush on the 6 O’clock news, they’ll give it no more heed than they do when they see hooded KKK types all upset about evolution being taught in schools.
   
3. Be careful what you wish for. Bush step down? Are you nuts? You want Uncle Dick running the show? Think it through kids.

Hippies, I know you're upset, but unless you don't really want change, and merely seek some satisfaction that you agitated on TV, your actions should be guided by some kind of rational political strategy and not just your desire to vent. Who is the target customer? What is the message that will resonate with that person?

Sweetie

Maybe it's my Midwestern linguistic heritage. Maybe I'm a sexist bastard. But I use little terms of endearment with women of whom I'm fond. Words like "sweetie", "honey", "sweetheart", "hun" and "babe".

Now I know that some men in the past have used these terms in ways that weren't too endearing. They use them in sentences like "Fetch me a coffee, would ya, hun?", in which case "hun" means "woman, who should do menial brainless tasks for me because you are a woman and I am a man".

But I use them in sentences like "You got it, babe" or "Whatever you want, sweetie" or "Aw, honey, I'm so sorry to hear that". In all cases, the term means "woman for whom I care with fiercely protective lion love".

And this was the problem of the weekend. I spent a lot of time with M. Seems she's willing to just go with the feelings and see what happens between us. I had been counseled by a friend to expect this, since according to her, all women think they're the one who will win out. I need to inform them all, I suppose, that they make the flawed assumption that the natural end state is for there to be just one winner.

Among our many conversations, M informed me that she has a pet peeve. She hates to be called sweetie, honey, baby, and any derivation thereof. Part of her hatred is that these words aren't just used for her, but for others, and she thinks sometimes they are used to be sure not to say the wrong name at the wrong time.

Right. Point taken. Don't call her sweetie because she thinks it's a sign I'm a player.

So I spent a lot of time trying not to say those things.

Problem: It's just deep in how I talk.

Bigger problem: I tend to use those words most during tender moments when I seek to re-assure someone that I care for them.

So we have a scenario in which, at the moment she least wants to hear it, I'm most likely to say it. What's worse is, at the moment I'm reaching out, I'm likely to get negative reinforcement.

At first it was a joke. But then I got pretty frustrated, getting a slap on the wrist when I was showing some care.

Saying good bye this afternoon, I let another "sweetie" slip. And in a moment of frustration, I said without thinking "Ya know, I know you don't like it, but I think you're just going to have to learn to deal with it, because that's the way I talk".

Her response? A big smile. Seems I got points for standing up to her and telling her to like it or leave it.

I think, in some ways, this is a good thing. Good for me for not contorting myself to make someone else happy. Bad for me for having spent 36 hours trying.

Danger, Will Robinson!

Ah, great.

Just got e-mail from K saying that she has heard about the black and white party through her own sources, and may be there tonight. And depending on how my chat with M goes, she may be there tonight.

This is like a bad sit-com plot, and I really don't want to be in it.

I wrote K back telling her that I'd be happy to run into her, that I'm likely going to be with my school friends, and informed her there was a chance that another "friend" of mine would be there. Not that I'm going with anyone per se, but I'd rather just put the truth out there.

I just want to avoid drama and be free to be me.

And honestly, I'm a little nervous about having my school friends world collide with the other parts of my life. K and I met in some unconventional circumstances. And to be honest, I fear what my classmates will think. I can hear one of the guys in particular, who only dates skinny blonde chicks with big boobs. He'd never see why I like a curvy, 6' tall brunette who's 7 years my senior. But I like her. She just gets me, and I don't have to explain anything to her. And she's really centered and has her shit together. She's Dali Lama meets bohemian party girl. And that's hot. So I suppose my classmates can fuck themselves. If they don't get why I like her, then they don't get me.

My Friday

I'm going to this party:

Host: Birthday Girl Productions
Location: 12 Galaxies 2565 Mission Street @ 22nd, San Francisco, CA
When: Friday, January 27, 9:00pm

It's party time people! Fix yourselves up – fabulous or funky – in all the black and white you can find, and make your way into the Mission for a night of decadence and debauchery! Festive fur, boys in black eyeliner, and any other of your favorite monochromatic delights await. The lovely ladies of Fandango have put together a DJ line-up to die for, including the mind blowing Mysterious D from Bootie! The range of these dames amazes us all, so expect the best from fabulous to filthy. I can't wait!

*Plus* We'll start the party at 9pm with free Sofia bubbly!! Outrageous toasting is, obviously, encouraged.

Doors will be open to the public for 5$. I'll have a small guest list, so those of you who respond quickly and decisively will get in on me.

Feel free to forward this to as many delightful souls as you can think of! I can't wait to celebrate with you all!

So the question is: What to wear? Current plan is to go with the black pants (black pants like I'd wear to work) black shoes (not a tough call) and some kind of dress shirt (I believe "woven" is the fashion industry term. I have three options: All black, all white, or one that's white, fitted, with black pinstripes... the lead candidate). The critical question: I have a black, ribbed tank T (wife beater) that fits me very well. It has the outline of a little red cross on it like this:

When I first saw the shirt, I said it would make me look hot, gay or evil, possibly all three. Many of the party goers wil be the burning man crowd. Many will be the black eyeliner crowd. There may come a time when dancing in my sexy man gear may be fine and fun. But I don't want to look like a cheese ball. Fashion counsel form the blogosphere?

In other news, I'll be seeing M Friday night after work to talk. My only plan is to be honest and kind.

Trail, Yosemite

Trail

From my Yosemite trip last Sunday

The sound of inevitability, Mr. Andersen

I suppose it was inevitable. It doesn't make me feel any better about it, but it had to happen.

How many cliches apply?

You can’t have your cake and eat it too
If you want to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs
Honesty is the best policy
Nothing ventured, nothing gained

Whatever. I still feel bad.

At this point, I want to be open to dating a lot of people. Partially because I think it's a good idea for me to get a feel for what's out there. But also because I know I'll freak out if I find myself with a "serious" relationship. I have a pattern of throwing all my eggs in the first available basket, and this is bad. This doesn't mean I'm closed to deep intimacy. Having finally figured out what that is, I value it and seek it out. I suppose the critical gap between my current perspective and that of the mainstream dating public is that feeling very close to one person doesn't preclude me from feeling very close to other people. If we're open to the idea of having enough love for our many children, our many siblings, our many friends, why can't we have enough for our many lovers?

Yes, jealousy is the killer here. The short retort to my question is "because you're not having sex with your children, siblings and friends". Fair enough. But it seems the only real psychological hurdle.

And let's face it: If we, as a species, were designed to really mate for life with one mate, don't you think we'd have some kind of powerful imprinting instinct that made us literally only have eyes for our mate? But we don't. We still notice attractive members of the opposite sex (or same, depending on your wiring, I guess), no matter our state of relationship bliss. And if you don't believe me, I have two, two-word answers:

1. beer commercials
2. Brad Pitt.

I'm very emotionally open right now. I'm not closed off from developing strong feelings, deep attachments, or profound intimacy. And this is where I'm getting into trouble. Women feel this, like it, get attached (all fine) and then want me to themselves (which scares the crap out of me).

Despite my female friends' exhortations that modern women can handle non-marriage trajectory relationships, the data in my life seems to indicate they can't deal with non-exclusivity well. It comes up as an issue. Only one person has been genuinely fine with it. Others have accepted reluctantly, instituting a "don't ask, don't tell" policy. Others have decided that we're better off as friends.

I'm blue today because, after last weekend, it became clear to me that I needed to be clear with M, friend and roommate of L, that I wasn't ready to make anything I was involved with exclusive. She had said she "didn't like to share". And I won't bend, distort or hide the truth to make things work for me. We needed to have that talk. So last night, I told her where I was at. And she knows, from past experience, that she can't deal. So we're going to do the only fair thing: both deprive ourselves of the other.

It's a shame. On Saturday I got together with her fully intending to tell her I didn't want to risk screwing up my relationship with her roommate and friend. But I came to realize that M and I do have a lot in common, and I do like her, and the risk to the relationship with L is minimal. So I chose to pursue it. Maybe I should have laid it all out at that point in time? Not only had the "let’s not put L in the middle of this" talk but also the "and I'm just finishing this divorce and I haven't dated much and I'm just trying to sense what's out there and if I felt I was jumping into something serious right away I'd freak out, so I'm just keeping my relationships open" talk. But we didn't. We did have a lovely weekend, though.

And maybe this is the whole issue, and maybe I just don't want to confront it: I can have these "open" relationships with people, as long as there's no sex involved. But once sex enters the picture, people are going to want things to be exclusive. And while there are prudent CDC reasons for this, I think there are emotional reasons for it too.

My attitude towards sex right now is a bit, perhaps, contradictory, but I don't see it that way. I don't think of it as meaningless. I do think of it as a way of profoundly connecting with and knowing another person. And I feel I can connect with more than one person that way. Maybe I'm abnormal. Maybe I'm kidding myself. But having learned how amazing sex can be when it's an expression of emotions, and being able to have feelings of tenderness, connectedness and desire for more than one person at a time, this doesn't seem inconsistent.

I felt the same kind of "break-up loss" when I heard M's response last night as I did when my marriage broke up. Not as abject, but I'm blue. I guess I thought she'd say "This is ok for now, but I reserve the right to ask for all of you down the road".

I didn't really think it through. Maybe that's a good thing. I'm being emotionally honest with the world, and seeing what happens. Sometimes, I guess I'm going to have sad days. But I'll take it. I feel real.

Are you for real?

Tidying up some match.com correspondence from over the weekend, I noticed an attractive redhead had looked at my profile. I clicked on her to check her out, and she seemed completely datable.

Until I saw part of her profile.

Politics: Ultra-Conservative

I e-mailed her just to see if this was the slip of the mouse I think it must have been. She can't be for real. It's a shame, really.

1) we'd not get along
2) I'd not get any

Not that the latter is a primary consideration, but there aren't a lot of guys out there really excited about dating an "ultra-conservative" woman. Wild sex means leaving the lights on. The Hester Prynne get up doesn't pass for lingerie, ya know?

Part of my daily life

morning sky, ferry 2

Carrying the camera is paying off. View while boarding the ferry. This is the stretch of water we row in most days.

So tired

I promise an update tomorrow.

Tonight I'm going to bed early.

Path to the Dark Side

Is paved with shrieking 14 month olds. Yes, I go on about this. But I just realized today that part of my anger and tension is the result of being wrenched from deep slumber at random intervals throughout the night, only to lie in bed frustrated, tired and angry. Interjecting bouts of fury aimed at a toddler into my most peaceful moments is bound to bump me off the more enlightened path.

This morning there was a bout around 4:45 am. So I left for the boat house rather steamed. An hour in the single on a perfect morning only got me back to a "not going to kill something this minute" level of serenity.

Current mood: Malevolent
Light saber color: Hot pink

Kick in the pants

It's all good. My closest colleague here at work, and the closest I've come to making a work friend in a long time, is likely going to leave the company. He asked me to serve as a reference for him for a job, and I did.

I really like working with him. It'll suck not to have him around, which gives me all the more reason to want to move on, myself. And that's fine.

Though my thought for now is I should finish out the divorce stuff first, then switch jobs.

I spoke with the mediation office today. Turns out they only handle divisions of goods, not support (which is the issue of contention). That's another office, which I shall contact. I think I've earned my right to have one piece of major life change at a time.

This is too funny

PG-13 cartoon. Something Positive. Some of my readers (especially those with colds) will know why I dig this series.

Saving puppies with data

A friend works at the Oakland Animal Shelter and just sent me a data base of all their charges since 1997. Being a government office, it used to be in some old DOS-based system. Someone finally got it into a flat Excel file, and I'd offered to help with the analysis.

It looks usable. It has more than 40,000 records, and it's reasonably clean. We'll be doing things like looking at which factors lead to a high likelihood of adoption, or other outcomes. It's possible that there are some things the data will suggest that will make the lives of the critters that much better. Maybe some critter that might have gotten put down will get that extra week of being on the market, since the data shows it's got high odds of going home with someone.

With my laptop, I shall save fuzzy kitties.

Healthy night

The 14 month old downstairs from me is shrieking his head off as I write. Charming.

I just finished Monkeyluv, book sent to me by my mom for Christmas. It's a behavioral biological look at humans. So I'm sure there's some deep wiring that makes me really want to make that child stop shrieking at all costs. Of course, I regularly consider stuffing the brat in a trash can as an option. Which doesn't strike me as particularly adaptive. Of course, it's not mine, and I don't have any genetic interest in his continued existence.

I went to the boat house tonight after work to do my 20 min erg test. I averaged 1:47.4/500m, and it wasn't that hard. That's the best time I've put up in many years. So nice to be done with business school so I can focus on more important matters. Like training. My record while out here is a 1:46.7/ 500m average. I think I can take that out by the end of February. This also implies I could take a shot at my record for the 10k, which is a pace of around 1:50.4/500m. I hope to break 1:40.0/500m for the 2k at the Peninsula Indoor regatta, which my coach is making us do. I hate 2k on the erg. Hate it. It's sheer pain. Basically, imagine sprinting for a mile and a half. Seriously. That's what we do.

Oh, good, the brat is shrieking again.

I like kids, really. Snuggly babies. My favorite little L. I like puppies, too. Shrieking tantrums, however, aren't that endearing. I'm sure I can discreetly offer his mom a book with a solution for shrieking kids. Preferably one written during the middle ages. Too much black bile in the boy, I say.

In other news, M, from last weekend called me while I was on the ferry. I was a bit surprised. Didn't recognize the number. It was awkward, because I'm there on a boat full of strangers...

(OMFG I'm gonna kill that kid...)

as I was saying, boat full of strangers, and I really hadn't given much thought to the situation. So I was grossly unprepared. (Yes, I know I should just "go with it", and not think too much, but it's gonna take time before I leave my cogitation security blanket behind, ok?) A little chit chat, she closed by indicating interest in getting together this weekend.

I thought about it on my way home. I would very much like to have a chat with her. I just want to be clear about where I'm at right now. I'm dating a lot of folks, and that's what I want to do. It doesn't mean I don't have feelings for people or develop intimate relationships emotionally or other wise. It does mean that I'm not exclusive. I also want to be clear with her that my friendship with her roommate is more precious to me than any potential romance right now. Being with my classmates is a source of fun and comfort for me, and I won't let anything make me uncomfortable when I'm with them. Classmate time is safe space time.

Now, that said, maybe I should have thought about this before Saturday. Yeah, maybe. I don't think it wholly precludes anything, but it sure sets some terms for continuation.

In other news, I'm feeling really good about my priorities in life. E-mailing my coach my erg score, writing my mom a note, and blogging were more important than responding to the messages in my in box from Match.com chicks. There was a time when I'd have been all about that. I think I have good balance now.

But now, I'll go write those Match.com chicks back. :)

Car saga

Yesterday morning I dropped my car off at the dealer to have them fix the leak in the roof. They shuttled me to the ferry terminal, and I just made the 8:20 boat. Since they closed at 6, I planned to get the 4:55 boat home, earlier than anything I ever take. I left work at 4:40 and jogged most of the way to the terminal. I just made the boat.

I called the dealership about 5 minutes before I docked. 5:20.

We landed, and it was raining. I didn't have my umbrella. I was wearing just my fleece vest, which is fine for my daily life in which I'm never outdoors for more than 15 minutes.

At 5:40 I called again. I was assured a van was on the way.

5:50 comes and goes. Shuttles from other dealerships are arriving to pick up customers on the boat that arrives at 6. The boat I didn't take, so that I could be here before the dealership closed.

6:00. The next ferry arrives. At this point, I, outdoors boy, have become cold and damp, standing in the bits of mist blowing around under the ferry terminal's roof. I have also become angry.

6:10. The shuttle finally arrives. I direct the driver on the fastest route to the dealership.

They wanted to keep my car overnight, given the work that needs to be done. Service manager told me part of the motive was "with the rain coming" it wouldn't be a good idea to have the car out in the rain for any more leaking.

I needed to get my workout gear out of the car. Which was parked in their lot for repairs. Outside.

So at least today they'll be able to see what I mean by the leak.

I have a loaner till Thursday.

Amen

Holy shit. This spoke to me (warning, has an NC-17 Anime style cartoon onthe page which you can scroll past). Especially this part:

It needs to be said that depriving spouses of sex—or subjecting them to absolutely joyless sex in the hope that they'll stop asking for any at all—is an act of emotional violence. And this brand of emotional violence not only creates frustration, anger, and desperation, it inevitably leads to infidelity, which all too often leads to divorce, broken homes, and traumatized children.

And who gets the blame?

The spouse who cheated, of course! Didja hear? WILLIE—a man with a wife and a child at home!—ran off with another woman! Oh, and FS—a woman with a husband and kids!—was sleeping with another man!

To all those folks out there who aren't interested in sex: Getting married—or civilly united, or shacking up, or whatever—is like buying a cow. You know going in that you're going to have to milk the thing. But unlike an unmilked cow, a spouse—male or female—won't just stand there in a field and suffer. A spouse is a cow with a credit card, a job, and a car. If you don't milk the cow you married, your cow has the means to go out and find someone who will. If you're fine with that, for God's sake, tell your cow. If you lose interest in sex but want to stay married for the kids, friendship, or financial security, apologize to your cow and tell 'em you'll do them the courtesy of turning a blind eye if they'll do you the courtesy of being milked discreetly elsewhere.

Regularly getting the Heisman from your spouse will destroy your soul.

And all of this is why pre-marital sex is good for marriages, families, and society. It helps assure long term compatibility.

Heismanized?

I don't know how ubiquitous the term is, and I know those with less American cultural roots often don't get what I mean when I say "She gave me the Heisman". Which sounds like, but is radically different from "she gave me the hymen".

That was terrible, I know. But I had to go there.

To wit, the Heisman:

So we all know what this means, then, yes?

I think Girl 1 is giving me the Heisman. Not that I tried anything. But I sure didn't get any signals to go for it, either. My read is that she's got a lot of lines in the water. She certainly had opportunity. Odd thing is, I'm not sure I'd have felt it was right. But it was clear she didn't want to linger at the end of our date. Message received.

I admit I was a little down about it on my way home from our date, and felt the impulse to bury my feelings in less than good for me behavior. But I've reached a point where I can see how the impulse gets tied to the feeling, and I had the drive home to think about how best to handle it. I made good choices and was just fine that night.

At the end of the day, I'm not that upset. Rejection is rejection, and it sucks, but, as a friend pointed out, we don't find fault with the puzzle pieces when they don't fit together.

Weekend Update

Friday night out to dinner with friends in SF. Walking back to the car, pass a homeless guy with a sign:

Please give to the united Negro Pizza fund

Saturday night I went to dinner with classmates & classmates' roommate, M, whom I'd met on a few occasions. (I'm going to run out of M's and K's. When I use an initial, does that give away the plot?) They asked for a restaurant close to the dance club they wanted to go to. I proposed the tapas-style brew pub that I favor, and when I arrived, all three of the ladies had already arrived and ordered... wine & sangria. I abused them heartily for the gross faux pas. This is a brew pub. You drink the beer. I ordered the winter Boch and gave a prompt lesson on why all black beer isn't bitter.

I had never been to a proper dance club in SF. There were women with various wardrobe-based advertising strategies. Some were down right hoochie. Some had moved too far down the spectrum from "wow" to "Tammy Fae Baker". But many were downright hot.

I knew dancing was the order of the evening, so I got another drink in me. It was ideal circumstances for me: Packed floor. I'm a lot less self conscious, and I just like being crammed in with joyful people.

Danced a lot with my friends, but found that M and I ended up on the floor together without the others, which was fine. My classmate MB, who scares me, wanted to move on: She was on the prowl, but, preferring the gray-haired types, wanted a more target-rich environment. At the coat check, I looked at my watch. It was midnight. I should bail. M decided to relieve me of my watch, and encouraged me to just have fun tonight.

And that's what I did. I chose to be in the moment, and not to over think things too much.

We walked through the sketchy 6th & Mission region, past some clubs, and eventually ended up here. The average age in this club was about 13 years older than the prior club, at around 38. It was an older, and more conspicuously desperate club. I noticed several men, who I knew were just trying to find someone to meet. Scanning, scanning. To shy/ awkward/ etc to know how to approach someone. The women were older, too, and also had that "I really need to meet someone" feel. That was a little sad, to me.

Live band that transitioned to DJ. In the picture you can see the dance floor, and that it is surrounded by windows overlooking the city. Great view. M & I got drinks and hit the dance floor. I was thirsty and drank my beer fast. We danced. It was fun. It was packed. Dancing got rather sensual. I had a moment of "Do I really want to be doing this with her?" followed by a moment of "Fuck it, let go, just be, have fun". So I closed my eyes, and let the world melt away.

The club communicated it was time to go by bringing the lights up pretty fast around 2, and playing the Hallelujah chorus from Handel's Messiah. Yeah. Odd, but effective.

I wanted a donut. Instead we hit a diner, where I got some french toast. Sitting in the booth across from us was Brian Posehn.




He was on "just shoot me" and does stand up. Dude is seriously tall.

After eating, we walked across town to my car, and I drove M home, while my other classmate with his car drove my classmate L (M's roommate and good friend on whom I have a massive crush). M offered me my watch back during the ride. I told her I had hoped she'd have used the leverage to greater advantage. She chose to hang on to it.

By now it was pushing 3, and I came in with M, sat around with folks, and accepted the previous offer in the evening to just spend the night.

I seek to be discreet in blogging these matters, but I also want to articulate certain things. I give myself big points for deciding to clear up some ambiguity and talk with M about what was going on. I made it clear that I wasn't expecting anything more than cuddling and unconsciousness. I asked her if she was going to be ok with me not sleeping in my jeans. It all went well. Just nice to know I can call a time out and initiate some communication.

It's odd though, because I don't know what, if anything, I should do now. She's cool, I like her, but I'm not sure whether I seek to date her, for many reasons. L is in a relationship I don't think is gonna work. I think L and I could work very well. But if I've "messed around" with her roommate and good friend? I don't think they're all as casual about these things as they say they are. So I may have just flushed all my chances with L. Not that they may have been great. But maybe this will be a consequence of saying "ah, fuck it" and just going with what feels ok in that moment. That said, if some kissing and some cuddling counts as belonging to M, this seems pretty junior high. Is M gonna expect me to call? What if I don't? What if I do? Ah, fuck it. If those magic words can get me into a situation, they can get me out.

Got up a 7 am, drove home, loaded the car and drove to Squaw valley to ski on the new snow. It was a long day. Spent many hours in the car for not quite as much skiing as I'd hoped, but I had fun, and got my ski legs back. By the end, I felt like I was moving well again.

My classmate S (of the Labor day cabin trip) was there, so we hung out, and she rode with me to Sacramento going home, where she picked up her car. She then really helped me stay awake the rest of the way home. I was really fighting sleepiness hard.

Arrived home after midnight, slept till 9:30.

I'm off to row and have date 2 with girl 1.

Pieces of sky

Pieces of sky

I wanted you all to see this.

My dream woman

Just contacted me on Match. This is what she wrote:

"Hello my long-awaited friend!!!my name is Marianna. I the romantic The woman, which searches for the serious attitudes with the good man. I very much liked your structure.Write to me on mine e-mail [deleted for blogging]@yahoo.com I shall tell to you more concerning me. "

Did you hear that? She liked my structure. Not many women take the time to really scrutinize my molecules, but she did. And I've been told many times that I have a serious attitude problem. I'm glad she sees that as a plus.

Judges & Cases

On my drive in this morning, I heard some of the testimony in the Senate about the supreme court justice nomination. The NARAL lady was talking. And we all know what she said.

I was intrigued that she referred to a time before Roe in which, along with the permission of doctors, one had to get permission of the baby's father.

We were all supposed to be outraged, of course, that the law ever worked this way. But I thought that it was at least consistent, at the time with other laws. I can't say I think reproductive law is consistent now.

Now I'm no lawyer, but as I understand it, as a man, you have no say over whether any pregnancy you create comes to term or not. Women get to choose whether a baby is born or not. But as I understand "paternity suit", women can hold men financially liable for children they sire, whether or not the men wanted a child. In the past, men were accountable, and had influence. Now, men have no influence, but are still accountable. This seems unfair.

If the reasoning is, "Hey, if you don't want kids, don't take the risk of screwing," the same line could be used to argue that abortion should be illegal and that both men and women should accept the risk of unwanted pregancy. If women expect financial equality and have absolute legal control over reproduction, then it seems fair that they should bear absolute legal and financial responsibility for reproduction as well. If you control an outcome, you are responsible for the outcome. Seems fair to me.

Not very PC of me to think or write it, I know. But I've not had much to say in political or social commentary for a while.

West Coast Zen Parable

Oak Tree: I kick ass.

Tall grass: Yeah, dude?

Oak Tree: Yeah. The wind comes, and I can just take it. I'm vegan, and do a lot of pilates and yoga. And I have options. Plus, my phone is cool.

Tall grass: Dude, that's great.

Oak Tree: Yeah. You should try yoga and pilates, too. Even the tiniest breeze and you just ripple and wave. Crunches, and more soy protein, and you can be hard and hot like me.

Tall grass: So noted.

{Violent windstorm. Totally crazy global warming-related shit. All Bush's fault. And Cheney's.}

Oak Tree: Dude, what happened?

Tall grass: You wiped out, dude.

Oak Tree: Woah. That windstorm kicked my ass. My trunk broke. I don't think acupuncture can fix that.

Tall grass: Yeah, dude. You're pretty messed up.

Oak Tree: So how come you're ok?

Tall grass: When the wind blows, you have to just go with it, man.

Felix Felicis

Harry Potter fans will get it without clicking.

This morning, while carrying the 8 to the dock, my coach came up next to me and put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a little squeeze which said "I'm sorry I put you in this lineup of not- so-great rowers, and I know you're probably in for a very frustrating row, but I appreciate that you do these things without complaint because you believe that the team comes first". This is why men don't call their friends to talk: We don't need words to convey a sentiment. Talking scares the antelope, and you ladies only mated with those of us who could bring home the bacon. So now testosterone makes us horny and silent.

Despite the warning, the row actually turned out awesome. We had a good cox, with whom, as stroke, I love to work. He trusts my requests, and tunes up the boat accordingly. My crew eventually and miraculously learned to just chill the fuck out on the recovery. The boat won't wobble if none of us freaks out. And once the guys discovered this, they managed to feel the boat, and listen to what it was telling them. We were doing low rates at high pressure-- my favorite -- and there were many times when the only sound between strokes was the trickle of water under the boat. On rate and rhythm shifts, it was as if I was rowing alone: Everyone made the change exactly with me. It was perfect.

My presentation to the client today went off quite well. Everyone on the project is happy. Even the bosses seem to think I may not suck, after all.

After the presentation, my chief partner in crime at work, J, and I stopped at his favorite Mediterranean restaurant in Sunnyvale. As we left the car, I noticed the letter I had to mail. I asked him if he thought I'd find a mailbox. He said 50-50. I brought the letter. We walked around the corner and into an actual mailman. To whom I handed the letter. Which he accepted. Mission accomplished.

My date from Tuesday has accepted the notion of getting together again on Monday. Sunday looks to be a perfect day for skiing. Saturday I row, and Friday morning I have breakfast with classmates, dinner with another classmate, and likely an evening with K.

Life is good.

Adaptive traits in chickens

Tonight I roasted a chicken. They were on sale, easy to do. And I needed to do it soon, lest it turn on me.

It setting aside the giblets, I discovered that my chicken had not one, but four hearts.

I found this odd. I guess a fist full of innards is thrust into each carcass after processing and before being packaged. Which conjures images of the giblet bin in the chicken plant. And the guy who hoses it down. But explains the unnatural allotment of parts I had the fortune of sauteing in butter and eating.

I suppose I'm ready for Fear Factor.

up Date

Not at all what I expected. And this is kind of cool.

I proposed meeting for a drink, found out she preferred wine, proposed a wine bar in her neighborhood in SF.

Work finished early, so I was able to get there plenty early with no worries of being late and meandered through the streets to find a parking spot.

I got a table near the door, and waited.

I was a little nervous, but nothing overwhelming. It was less angst over making things go well and more angst over not making things go poorly. I just wanted to get through a date without doing anything clearly wrong or stupid.

7:30 hit and she arrived. Really easy to spot. Yeah, very pretty girl. Not in a manufactured, contrived way. Naturally pretty. Looks like a tall, fit, lighter-haired Natalie Portman. Heart shaped face, high cheek bones, light brown eyes.

I got greeted with a hug. Yay. Solved one of the giant questions: How to greet? I had a plan, but was pleased she sent a signal.

She had kickboxing that night, then went home to get ready for the date and came straight to meet me, so she declared herself in that post- exercise starvation mode. I understood.

We solved that problem as best we could, and chatted for a long while. Enjoyed a few dishes and shared a flight of reds that was quite good. Once our time there had come to a close, I asked her if she wanted to see about finding her some more calories elsewhere. I knew that what we had consumed wasn't going to solve her problem.

Conversation never stalled, I never had to fall back on any of my prepared "in case of conversation lull, ask her about this" questions.

I like her. She's inquisitive and sweet and down to earth. And smart and a little dorky on the inside, which is endearing. And she's tall and slender and leggy and athletic, so… yeah. I would like a second date.

I had a hard time finding my car. Eventually found it, I offered her a ride to her door, she accepted, we pulled in her driveway and proceeded to…. Talk. For another 2-3 hours. At one point she opened my glove box, found my stash of, among other things, White Zombie, Metallica and Black Sabbath. To convince her I wasn't in a Satanic cult I gave her an impromptu tour of "what’s in the CD player". On my mix CDs, (much of it happy 80’s stuff) I ended up challenging her to "name that tune". We have a lot of intersection in musical tastes. I have no opinion on the extent to which that portends compatibility.

We talked about more profound things. Had a semi-ambiguous discussion about things moving too fast. I genuinely feel no urgency to have anything happen fast. That said, I'm definitely attracted to her. I didn't talk about my marital situation. My profile is clear: Currently separated. She didn't ask directly, and I didn’t tell. I fear that she may not have picked up on that, since some of our conversation bordered around those topics, but never went into them. I fear that "currently separated" is a red flag for some folks. I hope I didn't get a free pass on an oversight on her part.

We parted with a hug, a long, lingering kind. And it felt like there was a connection there. She hugs for real. At one point, I had to ask whether I was missing a signal. It was 1:15 and we were still in my car chatting. So I put it out there that we're both grown ups, and that I wasn't sure. She confessed that she wanted to kiss me, but didn't want to, too. That was all I needed to know. I thanked her for being gutsy and honest and clear. Hugs are just fine.

I got home and in bed at… 2 am. Yeah. Crazy. But I committed to driving a teammate to practice, and got up at 5 and did the whole rowing thing. In the rain, none the less. Had I not rowed, I'd have felt my dating life was compromising my rowing life and felt that I couldn't have good boundaries and all that. But I don't feel that way. I feel like I made a lot of conscious choices.

I hope not to hit the wall today. I hope I can bust out of work early and get home early and sleep early and get through without incident. If it gets bad, I may resort to caffeine.

My only complaint is that she can kind of talk a lot. A little like this. But not that bad. And better to have a chatty date than a quiet one. Yikes. No meek wallflowers for me, thanks.

There were plenty of points when I was thinking the evening would end and I'd have a manageable night. I tried on a few occasions. But it just kept going on. And I thought, "Fuck it, life is short".

Match.com earned its keep last night.

First ever

Match.com date tonight. I'm pretty mellow about it. We'll see how it goes.

Burned

This morning's workout: 3 x (1000m, 4' rest). I did the first in 3:20.9 (1:40.4/ 500m), second in 3:21.8 (1:40.9/ 500m), and the third in 3:25.9 (1:42.9/ 500m). The last one was rather painful. My legs are fried. But the numbers are good. I have a long way to go, but I'm faster at this point in the season than I've been in the last two years.

If I can get all those numbers sub 1:40/ 500, I'll have a good shot at cracking 6:40 for 2000m at the peninsula indoor regatta in February. I hate 2k. That'll put me on pace to break 6:30 for 2000m by April. That's my goal.

That was fast

I'm still pissed at blogger for swallowing a post on Sunday, about Saturday. I give the bullets:

• 20 classmates & significant others
• Dinner at nice place
• They drank at dinner
• I didn't drink at dinner
• Club lounge space was cool
• People drank more
• I drank very little
• Long chat with classmate's wife
• Wife told me I'm a super hottie and not to settle
• My confidence of my market power increased
• Wife tried to inroduce me to her friend
• I humored her, but really didn't care to meet anyone that night
• I chatted with said friend, then chose to decline invitation to go back to classmate & wife's place with friend for more drinking and chatting

Match.com: I have been e-mailed by a chick already, and she seems cool. The e-mail I had received was from a chick in Scotland. I felt like a tool for signing up. But I'm glad I did. I'll keep y'all posted on that front.

Work is nutty.

Pot odds?

One should be willing to pay in proportion to the odds of a favorable outcome and the value of that outcome.

Someone on match.com has e-mailed me.

I have no idea if it's a gold digging blonde hoping to breed or someone whom I'd actually be willing to get to know.

I must pay to find out.

a) should I sign up?

b) if so, for how long?

I think I'll give it a whirl. I just don't feel super compelled to do it right now. Which is a good thing for me. I'm curious, but I had errands to do today. And I wanted to get those photos up. I hit the ergs at the boathouse with my teammates. Hard work. Hard. Ahhhh... I am now showered and cozy and in my fleece pants and happy. And that matters more to me than who likes me.

And fans, I love you guys, but please don't go trying to find my profile. I'm sure with some time and effort, you could. I'd appreciate the privacy/ anonymity for now. Gracias.

Study Break

I took these from the hotel during finals. I would get up at 4 am to keep working, and I tried to capture what I noticed as it got light. Top is the view towards Marin, bottom is view towards SF.

Back to a balanced life

Practice this morning was great. Obscenely calm. Could have rowed to Oakland. Would have liked to have rowed to Oakland. It was a mixed boat, but I was in 4, so I had a nice ride. Folks were pretty smooth and focused. Hit the erg after practice. Will erg tomorrow with my friends and teammates who are as insane as I am. I may go early and do my 20 min test, just to get that over with before I then sit down and do 6 x (5' @ 2k pace +2, 3' off). On Tuesday we have 3 x (1000m, 4' off) That will hurt. But I look forward to it all.

I did a ton of laundry today, got my hair cut and replaced the battery in my heart rate monitor watch. It was a good day. Tonight, dinner and night club scene with classmates in SF. Yay.

I'm contemplating trying out some conventional online dating sites. I've looked through many of the ads, though, and I've really not found anyone that really makes me excited. Some are after marriage, many are after money, some want me to be a traditional man whilst they play the modern woman. Some are just not very interesting. The most disappointing is that they all seem to seek "never married" folk. Now while I'd argue that there's little difference between me and someone who's had a long term, live-in relationship end, I respect people's rights to preferences. I suppose I will come with "baggage", but who doesn't? At least I know what it is to be married. I have no wide-eyed idealistic notions of "what it'll be like".

First dates with me will be held outdoors, and will require the ability to speak during sustained aerobic activity. More try-out than date? Possibly. If they don't like it, I'm sure they can find another caring, handsome, fit, articulate, sensitive, witty, passionate, sensual man who cooks. I hear we're a dime a dozen in San Francisco. I also hear we're usually gay.

Impending infanticide

I'm going to kill the toddler downstairs.

He's going through a "phase" in which he's taken to waking up around... 10, 10:30 PM. Tonight it's 11:30... and shrieking his little fucking head off.

Since I didn't create the brat, I feel no obligation to suffer from living with the boy. Yet I suffer.

The effects of sleep deprivation on the human mind? Not pretty.

I confessed to a friend today my dark desires for revenge and peaceful slumber. I'd be an evil parent. How does anyone manage not to toss their offspring in a lake in a bag with a brick?

Love. Or whatever it is that evolution has connived to do to our brains so we actually feel fondness for our own spawn.

Right now, I just want to put the downstairs child in a trunk in a closet in a house in Des Moines. So I can sleep.

New kind of panty line

Now I'm no expert in women's fashion. And I'm a big fan of the "thong intentionally peeking out above the back of the low rise jeans" phenomenon. Yay sexy

But there's a woman in my office and I swear I could make out her underwear line through the front of her pants. Like a panty line. Only in the front. No, I don't mean camel toe: I could tell, facing her, the precise shape of her undergarment. I wasn't trying hard, and I wasn't imagining.

She's a lovely woman. Not unfashionable. I just think, um, her body may have changed a bit faster than her wardrobe? For example, I think her bra may be too small. There's "spillage" or whatever it's referred to when the tits are too abundant to be contained by the bra, and they swell up over the top, like overheated Pillsbury dough escaping from the split vacuum tube. Instead of two bumps, there are 4. Sort of.

Does she need a fashion intervention from her girlfriends, or am I just a perv? I swear, I make none of this up.

To the guy on the ferry

I know that business is business
And gadgets are great
And at times we want to unplug
And be
In our own little bubble
iPod in ears
Blackberry in hand
Eyes on e-mail
Thoughts not here
Satchel strewn on the seat between us
Securing you space
Blocking me out.

But I hope you'll tune in
And notice
The world around you
So next time you can
Pick up your bag
And offer that space
To that smoldering brunette
Who would gladly have sat
In that seat
Next to me.

Connections

Life is good.

As I got out of my car in the ferry parking lot this morning, my cell rang with a 617 area code. It was not a voice I expected: Savas, my old pair partner from Boston.

In rowing, a "pair partner" is specifically the person with whom you'd row the pair (two oarsmen, one oar each), but the term is also used to refer to your compliment in an 8+ or 4. When Savas would stroke (we had Starboard stroke boats) I was 7. When he was 2, I was bow.

I had said to a friend a few nights ago that there are people in this life with whom you feel a special connection, and that Savas is one of those guys. We just understood each other. The only other people I've ever had this "no words need be spoken" understanding with have been my brothers. Back in high school and college, my next youngest brother was sweeper, I was goalkeeper (soccer). We didn't have to talk.

Same with Savas. Same with most of those guys I was in the boat with that year, for that matter: When the 8 of us hit the water, we became of one body and mind. I could feel the thoughts of the others. With the right cox, we were our best. I linked out to an audio file of one of our races in this post. All the guys in that boat remain brothers to me.

Savas was calling to say he was in town and wanted me to meet him for dinner. I blew off a function with classmates and left work a wee early to catch up.

We talked about everything. He's just gotten married. We talked jobs, career. My degree, his degrees, my divorce. We talked old times. It's funny to have someone whose "happiest days" are the same and my happiest days. Fun to have someone whose story about almost getting arrested in Ireland is my story about almost getting arrested in Ireland. Someone who also thinks of the race as a shining moment in his life.

He's switched to triathalon and biking and invited me to do a cool 140 mi ride in Boston this summer. I'd like to.

It's great to know that there are people in this world whom I love and who love me, and who feel the same eternal connection to me as I do to them.

It was a good night.

New Year's Evolutions

I'd like to set myself some goals and guidelines for the coming year. I don't want them to be too concrete. Resolutions like "I will go to Bermuda on spring break and drink umbrella drinks" aren't open to the dynamic and unpredictable nature of life. But I need them to be specific enough that I can evaluate whether I'm meeting the goals.

Things I will do in 2006:

• Be gentle with myself. I continue to get better at giving myself a break from an insane pace of life. I want to continue to recognize what I need and to do my best to take care of those needs in constructive ways.
  
• Have social fun on weekends. Two of my four weekends per month should involve plans to do something fun with people. Biking the mountain alone doesn't count.
  
• Stay active. Nothing should come between me and burning calories.
  
• Take more pictures. I ought to photo blog once per week, at least. I got away from it towards the end of this year, and miss it. I now carry my camera in my work bag.
  
• Learn social pro-activity. I'm doing well at "saying yes" and putting myself out there. By the end of the year I'd like to see myself having learned to create social occasions.
  
• Blog truth. As I continue to navigate that odd boundary of people crossing from my real life to blog awareness and vice versa, it gets hard to always write what I think for fear of hurting someone's feelings. I'm going to hold the rule: the blog is "read at your own risk". To that end, though, I think I'm going to be a bit more quiet about the blog in the future. I've been lucky that nothing bad's happened so far.
  
• Cook adventurously. Once per month I should cook something I've never made before, preferably a recipe from Food & Wine magazine with an ingredient I've never used before. I have like 18 issues at home, and I rarely do anything but flip through new issues for 2 minutes before directly filing them on the shelf.
  
• Read. I'm rather out of touch. The reason the blog's become all about me and not about much else is because I'm rather tuned out of current events. I plan to steal my employer's copy of the WSJ to read on ferry rides home at the end of the day. It's only going to get thrown out. And books. I have lists. I'm open to suggestions. Books will be good.

Nice to have's

• Complete my first triathalon
• Ski with my brothers
• Learn how to ask for a date
• Learn how to date
• Learn how to clearly but kindly let someone know I'm "not that into them"
• Get some decent furniture
• Make good use of a national parks pass

Why I don't want to "date"

It slowly sank in over two "A-ha" moments this last weekend.

Moment 1: While ironing my shirt, I realized that, while I will meet friends to go out "for drinks" or to a "nice restaurant" or even to a movie, these aren't things I intrinsically enjoy. I see maybe 3-4 movies in the theater per year. I prefer on-premise brewed beer to wine or cocktails. Fancy restaurants make me nervous that someone will figure out I come from a family that drinks canned beer.

Moment 2: In response to the visual in my head elicited by the question "are you dating anyone?" (followed by the sensitive and classy "Is your wife dating anyone?". This is why I fear M) I realize that much of conventional dating, as I understand it, involves meeting "for drinks", dinner at "nice restaurants" and movies.

So conventional dating requires I do something I'm at best indifferent about for the sake of spending time with someone whose company I may or may not enjoy.

I need to think of what kind of "dates" I would find intrinsically rewarding. My first thoughts are of hikes and bikes and runs.

Highly amusing

Black American teaching English in Japan tells stories. Too funny.

Thank God that's over

Well I made it out of 2005. Worst and best year of my life. Divorce is still an untidy mess, but I feel like I am and continue to be more human every day, and it's nice. Accepting myself with less than choir-boy character. I don't always do my dishes. Some days, I goof off all day and do nothing. And I do a bunch of other normal, human things that actually make me even less "perfect" and more tolerable. Who wants to be with me when I'm being perfect? I'm making changes in myself that I like. I recently told a "freak adolescent masturbation accident" story on myself, which was terribly funny. Being able to that is a huge step for me. Holy fuck, I'm normal.

I spent New Year's Eve & Day with classmates and associated others up here in Napa. NYE was a bit rowdy. I cooked dinner for the 14 or so people who were up here. I spent about 30 min on the very small street where the house was located, trying to find it, since I had the address written down wrong. I deduced that I had the address wrong, since 1051 was the highest address on the street, and I had written 1090. After hopping a security gate to look in windows, I found the place. I was stressed about making dinner happen, fearing causing crowd starvation, since I was late. I knew I needed to chill out, but I couldn't. Fortunately, my friends just didn't care. Everyone was happy.

At one point, many of us were sitting around playing "asshole" with red wine. I was never a drinking games guy in college, but I figured I'd be sociable. At one point I realized I was damn drunk, and decided to switch to water, drop out of the game, and stay awake until I was closer to sober. The evening was a success in that I had fun, and had only a minimal headache the next morning. Yay. I drank no alcohol yesterday. Really don't want any today.

I realize I need to get a workout in. I'm getting a little blue and socially withdrawn. No biggie.

Among those here are my classmate's sister, K, who's lots of fun in the way theatrical girls are fun. Witty, sexy, showy. Lot's of "Look at me! I'm fun!" which is attractive. She's naughty. It's alluring. But my intuition feels the knotted up parts of her on the inside. In a cozy moment last night, K gave my head a thorough scratching, which felt lovely. Parts of me went off to plotting how to make it work out such that I'd get a cuddle buddy all night. And my sober brain brought me back to how I'd really not want to deal with the long term consequences of any short term anything with her. So I kept it under control.

K's friend K2, on the other hand, is rather interesting to me. Tall and slender and smart and funny. She seems really at peace with herself, and doesn't' seem to have the same toxicity in her soul as K. I think she's single. The odd dynamic in all of this is that I feel some kind of agenda at work. It could be my imagination, but I feel there's some kind of "Let's get A to meet B this weekend and see what happens". I feel like I'm B. I have no idea who A is. There are three single girls here. My single male classmate T is also here. I have no idea if anyone is trying to set him up. I'd hate to chat up K2 if there's something else afoot with T, so I'm just gonna keep the mating game out of it this weekend. Sometimes, the game is worth it. Sometimes, you just want clean socks.

As I write I'm left alone in the house with M, a classmate that I'm about 80% sure is interested in me, but who scares the crap out of me. Ya know Marge Simpson's sisters? She reminds me of them on the inside, a little. My compulsive side enjoys the game of "let's see if she really is interested". Wants to see if she'd follow me into the hot tub. But only to see if she would. Which is purely evil. So I'm not doing it.

Right now, I just want to go home, settle in, do a few errands, work out and have a peaceful night. I love my friends. But I'm lonely. There's a healthy, cuddly couple here, and it reminds me how much I miss that. My usual anti-dote to touch deprivation is vigorous exercise, but I lack the means to take care of that here.

It's a nice insight for me, to realize I'm not missing sex, just affection. They may be closely related, but I can feel the difference.