This was going to be the best party ever! Everyone was saying it. She was so excited she could hardly stand it; this was her first party since her birthday so everything was different, "I'm 16 now, I can do what I want!" " I can stay out all night if I want to!" She was telling herself as she applied glitter to her lips. She loved glitter, her bed was covered in it and ever since she discovered all the different colors and the lip gloss with the sparkles and the eye shadow with the twinkling, she almost never went anywhere without some on somewhere. She glanced at the clock.......7:15...still so early, she had plenty of time, Courtney wouldn't be here for a bit yet so she could just do her thing. The music was loud and normally her mom would have yelled up by now but she knew how important this night was to her. She glanced in the mirror at her breast, she was so relieved that some fullness started to be seen on the edges of her pink sweater with the flowers stitched into it, she had been so worried, most of her friends were huge already and she tried to make lite of it; like she didn't care; she would try not to look all the time, but she was so jealous of how much better all her friends looked in clothes. It was so obvious how all the guys would flock to girls with big boobs, that's all they cared about it seemed. It practically happened overnight for her friends, especially Courtney, she had huge breast already and guys just buzzed around her like fireflies. Her mom told her not to worry, that a nice chest ran in her family, she would say with a little mischievous smile on her face, the way her mom said it made her want to puke, who says "nice chest" anyway?!

Before long Courtney showed up and they started jabbering like crazy, just talking on-top of each other, no words really even heard, just the joy of excitement and anticipation and friendship. They adjusted each other's makeup, fawned over each-others clothing and went downstairs in a disjointed rush. Her mom was waiting in the kitchen with a huge smile, obviously remembering what they were going through, what that felt like. Dad of course in his chair in the living room. The jabbering continued with her mom briefly jumping right in and keeping perfect time with them, then they said their goodbyes, kissed dad who made some half hearted warnings about-being late-boys something, but she could barely focus on anything and before she knew it they were in Courtney's car with the windows down, the spring air was warm and felt so good and fresh; the stereo blaring her favorite songs and they screaming the words at the top of their lungs.

When they arrived at the party there was already a million people, and it took them what seemed like hours to make their way through to the house, having to say hi and hug and chat every step it seemed. She was surprised to discover that she knew practically everyone there and they all seemed so happy to see them. A lot of people said happy birthday to her, cause her birthday was on Thursday and she hadn't seen them for whatever reason. Finally, after what seemed like forever, they made it into the house and if she thought it was crowded outside, it was nothing compared to inside. It was nuts! She had only been to a couple real parties in her life and they had mainly consisted of maybe 12 people sitting around drinking, smoking weed and listening to music; maybe some beer pong, this was a full out ‘rager’, like you see in the movies. She could feel her face was just in a perma grin, and that made her smile even more, this was soo cool. Courtney started just pushing people aside as they made their way through the house, she was on a mission to find drinks for them. Eventually, they found the keg, and what looked like a banquet table with a bunch of big handled plastic bottles on it with stacks of blue and red plastic cups. Courtney immediately started mixing a bunch of stuff together, shoved the first one into my hand, then finished hers and led them back through the house. She took a sip of her drink, and other than the fact that it was room temperature it wasn't too bad; really strong though, she wasn't used to drinking and she could feel her stomach just twist after the first sip and her face blush. From there, they made their way around the house, stopping and chatting with friends all along the way; the music was loud so you had to be really close to someone, then just yell. She was just thinking about what a great time she was having when she saw Him. It was Jack. He was making his way to the keg with a friend and they were talking wildly and loudly to each other. Her heart started beating like crazy and she started to feel warm. Courtney was immediately beside her telling her to go talk to him. She couldn't! She blurted out; feeling very shy and vulnerable in that moment. ‘Common!’ Courtney yelped, and grabbed her by the hand and started leading her towards Jack, towards HIM! She was struck with such an overwhelming panic that she quickly ripped her hand away; Courtney turned with a confused look on her face and thinking quickly, just told her I would, but I had to find a bathroom first, ‘Just wait here, ok?’ ‘Do you want me to go with you?’ ‘No, it's ok, I'll be right back, wait here’, ‘ok, hurry up before he disappears.’ This last part made her anxious, she really wanted to talk to him but just in that moment she wasn't ready. It was too quick, she wanted to settle into the party a little first. The drink started to warm her up and she felt she would be ready soon. I'll just go take a few deep breaths, relax and I'll be fine. She turned and started through the kitchen and into the back room where Courtney told her the bathroom was. This room had much less people, just a few couples speaking quietly on the two small couches and thankfully, no line to the bathroom. She imagined in a house like this there must be a lot of bathrooms.

When she entered the bathroom she noticed how nice and new and modern it looked. Not at all like the dreary, drab, tiny, dark bathroom at her house. Everything was shiny and new, and the air was fresh and smelled like freshly cut flowers. Wow, this is nice! she thought. She looked in the mirror to check on all her bits of glamour, the lip gloss with flecks of luminous pink, the shooting star she had placed just so on her cheek in radiant reds and golds and silvers; the light blue eyeshadow with the flickering sapphire, everything still perfect, she was so happy, and she was just positive that Jack was looking at her and wanted to talk to her. How many times had they made eye contact? 3-4? At least. She would figure out a way to talk to him when she went back out, she was sure she could convince Courtney to make something up; she was good at that stuff. She didn't  give a shit about anything! OK, she was in there for a bit now, time to get moving before someone came, she was about to make her way to the door when she glanced at the toilet and noticed that it was covered with pee. Oh gross! Guys are such pigs, who would leave it like that. She looked away and started again for the door when she heard the knock. Bam! Bam! Bam! A heavy, drunken hand pounded on the door. Oh shit! Their going to think she made the mess! Fuck! She had to clean the toilet or she would be humiliated. She looked around for something to wipe it with, there was nothing; under the sink?

Nothing. She would have to use toilet paper. Gross. She grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and started to gingerly wipe the toilet seat, the piss soaking through almost immediately; her thumb accidentally falling directly into the mess. She could feel herself almost puke.

Omg, she was taking too long now, how long ago was the first knock, 5 minutes? 10?15?! They were going to think she was taking a shit, oh my god, what was she going to do now?! The knock came again more insistent and her heart jumped into her throat, then a voice,"Hellooo?" "Somebody dead in there"?! Oh No! no no no no! It was Jack, oh god! Why me! Why! She grabbed more toilet paper and started to try and wipe the edges of the mess again, the urine was soaking through the paper instantly and getting on her, she started to gag as the moistness ran down her fingers and onto her hand, she whipped the wad into the garbage and ran to the sink to wash the urine off her hand, the knocking came again and she jumped, she had to do something, say something.

She had to get out of this bathroom, how? She looked around furtively, not knowing what she was looking for, what could help her now. She thought if she saw a gun she might use it on herself in that moment. She glanced at the window which was cracked open, the lace curtains billowing slighting from the warm spring breeze. She couldn't explain why, but she started to move then, slowly towards the window, still not knowing what she would do and balancing one hand on the wide shelf on the other side, stretched over the tub to look down and see how far the ground was.  They were on the first floor so she saw the flowers and bushes almost immediately. The large sill was wide enough to sit on and was covered with various oils and soaps and salts.

Without thought, like a zombie, she mechanically stepped into the classic high claw-foot tub, her face blank as she started to roughly push all the beauty products out of her way. In a dreamlike trance now, the banging on the door, frantic, but just a murmur in her mind, she began to crawl on the shelf towards the window, she had a vague memory of glass breaking but didn't stop or look, all she could think was escape. When she got to the window, she knelt and with both hands tried to pull it up, used to the old windows at her house, half of which she couldn't budge, she gave it everything she had and it exploded straight up into the jam with a loud bang. It had risen so effortlessly she lost her balanced and tumbled backwards into the tub, her legs sticking straight up, still on the shelf, her head turned awkwardly on the side of the tub, she immediately started to struggle up, this is ridiculous, she thought and almost smiled. What am I doing?! Quickly she scrambled up, forgetting the throbbing in her head from banging it on the tub and not caring about anything but getting the fuck out of there; she slid on her belly along the shelf and tumbled headfirst out the window, her hair and dress getting caught in the bush as she landed on the moist ground and flowers in a heavy tangled thump. Ugh, everything hurt now, dirt covered her everywhere and she was soaked from the plants being watered today; going back in the party was not an option. She tried to push herself up and the pain in her hand made her stop and she found that some glass from a perfume bottle was embedded there. Sitting in the slop, still under the bushes, she examined her hand and removed the narrow, pink, glass sliver, Happy Birthday! she thought ruefully.

She crawled out of the bushes and flower beds then, crushing the pretty pinks and yellows and not caring. When she stood up, she was afraid to look down at herself and her outfit, the dirt ground in no doubt, ruined. She wanted to sit and just cry but she had to get out of there before someone saw. She staggered out of the bushes and started towards the street careful not to be seen, as she slipped into the shadows of  the trees, she could hear people in the bathroom and as she looked back she saw the heads that were peering out of the very same window she had slithered out of moments earlier.

She staggered the 5 blocks home then, staying out of the streetlights, careful not to be noticed, moving deeper into the shadows whenever a car passed, a wet, shaggy mess. Fumbling in her small purse she found her phone and felt a moment of panic as she saw the 15 messages from Courtney, she couldn't bear to look at any of them. It was still too soon to try and formulate the excuses she would need to explain her disappearance, so she just quickly sent a text saying she felt sick and had decided to go home, and that she was sorry she didn't say bye; which of course invited a flood of other messages, which of course, she would ignore for the night; anxious to get home and hopefully die in her sleep.

When she arrived at her house the lights were all still on, her parents were no doubt going about their usual evening in the living room in front of the TV, mom reading and glancing up to stay informed as to the drama unfolding before her as dad drifted in and out of slumber. The last thing she wanted to do right now is explain anything. So, as stealthy as a ninja, she went around towards the back of the house, and in a practice performed many times before, silently slid open the screen and then the glass door and slipped inside. Walking through the screened in porch then another door to test her skill, then into the kitchen and up the back stairs to sanctuary.  Not bothering to stop in her room, she went right to the bathroom and again, without a sound, closed the door behind her and turned on the light. What she saw then she will never forget. Her hair was a tangled, sodden mess, she wouldn't be surprised if a bird flew out at this point, honestly. Her glittering makeup, so perfect before and that she had been so proud of, was smudged and smeared and missing in places and it was then that she could see that she must have been crying the whole way home as the only clean spots on her face ones marked by tears. God, what a night. She began the process of undressing when she heard the knock on the door "Colbie?" "Is that you?"  Ugh, mom, how did she find her so fast, how did she know?! moms..... "Yes mom", she heard herself say, but knew more would be required "everything's ok" "just felt a little sick so I came home, I'm going to just take a shower now ango to bed ok? Can we just talk tomorrow? I'm really tired" she repeated that last part hoping it would satisfy her, but also knowing better. "What happened?" "You've only been gone a couple hours, did something happen?" "Do you want me to make you some tea?" mom pressed. "No mom, I'm good, just tired, it was fun but I just felt queasy so I came home, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow" and as she was saying this turned the shower on to hopefully squelch any further inquisition". She held her breath then, not knowing if she had done enough. "OK, let me know if you need anything" her mom said and then nothing. Oh, thank god. She felt bad, she normally would have told her mom everything, she wanted to, but now right now, the humiliation was still too fresh.

She stayed in the shower a long time, the hot water felt so good as she washed all the grime and chill out of her body and hair, scrubbing her legs with a coral sponge and gel. She sat for a while on the floor of the tub, rubbing the sore spot on her head as she replayed the crazy night she had, the second tub she had squatted in tonight she thought and laughed a little, her whole body it seemed covered in scratches and bruises from the falls and bushes she crawled through, stinging in the hot water; she didn't mind it.  After a long time she got out, applied her favorite scented cream over her whole body trying to smooth her wounded legs, that were sure to look worse in the days to come; and putting on her soft fluffy pink robe moved towards the bathroom door. When she reached the door she stopped and listened, trying to hear if anyone was around, if anyone was close. She delicately opened it a crack and peered out, the hallway was dark and the house was quiet; all she could see was the faint light from her bedroom far down the end of the hall. When she felt confident that she was alone, she moved just outside the door.

Once out of the bathroom she stopped again, listening to any sounds of life, she could hear the faint snoring of her father from her parentsbedroom at the other end of the hall to the right of the bathroom; confident no one would ambush her she moved swiftly to her room, the warm light and flower smells enveloping her as she quickly dropped her robe and clambered onto her bed, twisting the light off and scrambling under her feathery comforter. Her familiar fuzzy companions soothing as she covered her head with the fluffy blanket; The bed warming instantly and she exhaled and sunk deeper into it.

16 sucks.

the bathroom; coming of age; young adult, 12-17 3014 words, Brett Curley, its fun; young angst; young teenager, first real party, floods the bathroom, her crush is right outside, young adult, currently no platform, formally medium and wordpress, BA in eastern european history and creative writing, writing style-Brett Curley.

the weight of the dark night settled on him

he grew to love the dark

feeling safe and obscure

the blackness felt like a warm cocoon

tingling on his skin

The quiet settled on him with calm insistence

not unpleasant, familiar to his soul

the day swayed elusively around his hands

just out of reach

thoughts flittered beyond his grasp.

Drifting through the darkening halls,

from room to room,

shadows spread like ink gliding across the walls,

the silence loud and crackling,

he wonders on his life,

loves,

dust dancing through beams,

we know nothing of time,

we know nothing of death,

we are here until we are not,

alone,

ageless in those moments,

timeless,

he remembers the boy,

see’s through his eyes,

a familiar melancholy washes over him,

warm,

soft,

insistent,

he wonders if loss is all there is,

as it turns out…

In a vacuum its easy to say that one would never act vengefully and seek retribution, but in the moment, when the protagonist is a real life flesh and blood human, the equation changes, dramatically. At times, we all live in the world of ‘I would never’ as in ‘I would never act that way’ ‘Live that way’ ‘Treat someone like that’; ‘I would never be a hypocrite’ or ‘cruel’ or ‘petty’. The problem with all that is…..we are all those things, ‘like that’ sometimes. It has taken me a long time to learn, (an incredibly long time to learn, but whose counting) but the cliché about everything being an opportunity is absolutely right. The problem is, it is not always the opportunity that you are looking for or are prepared for, but it is often the opportunity that you need. For when you see problems as an obstacle and Not an opportunity you are the victim in the story. By seeing obstacles as an opportunity to be better, react better, change your mind, to see it differently, you are choosing to be in control, you are choosing to be in control of the situation, of your own life, of your ‘self’. The other cliché is ‘you can’t control anything but you can control how you react (feel) to/about it’, this is also true, but I want to take it a step further and suggest that you can more then just see it as an obstacle, a negative thing to get over or to make you better, you can also welcome it as a gift. Yup, a gift! But first you have to change your perspective about it, to view it the way you might view taking piano lessons for example; (not a great example but bear with me) when you start to learn the piano everything about it is a challenge, but you take lessons because you want to get better at it, you want to learn about it, there is a reason for subjecting yourself to the pain, a goal, a finish line; when you put this level of abstract reflection at yourself maybe with a little tweaking you can begin to see everything as an opportunity for growth, no matter how bleak.

The point is, it’s not supposed to be easy, all the ‘clichés’ are correct (or some of them anyway), if its easy you don’t learn, you only learn through pain to varying degrees. Some people are better at knowing what's good for them then others, its just a gift, unfortunately, one that the gods didn’t fain to imbue me with. Largely….we all went to school and learned a bunch of facts and how to do some math and about some history, but its all so vague and arbitrary without experience. Just a bunch or symbols and points. But the real education occurred when the girl you were in love with went for the hockey star or the rocker and not you; or the bullies crammed you into the locker or dumped your head in the toilet. That’s where your true self was molded. You became a reflection of what you didn’t like; largely the product of learning how to be the kind of person that avoids what you hate, the kind of person that doesn’t get royal flushed. That’s why bullies often were bullied and abusers were abused. People become the byproduct of their experience when they are unwilling or unable to do the work, the work of self reflection, the questioning of why we do the things we do; often its easier to just suppress and deny. If we just blame our abusers then we can be comfortable avoiding responsibility for our own actions. ‘It’s not my fault, don’t you know what happened to me!’. ‘The devil made me do it’.

Remember, you are not ‘obligated’ to think any particular way about anything. You don’t have to get upset, or annoyed or angry or frustrated, or seek revenge, these are choices, yup choices. You don’t have to let those that abused you win, they took what they took from you, and as long as you keep hurting yourself as a result, their still winning, still controlling you. Changing your thinking IS your life’s work and I know it’s hard in the moment but if you reflect on your thinking in stressful moments you will notice the little voice in your head asking you how you would like to handle any given situation, and often, we rely on what we have learned or observed from others or how we reacted in the past. It can be a kind of lazy thinking.

Of course, these things are never so simple, or easy in the moment, sometimes we are rejecting something so fundamental to our being, such as retaliating for a slight or insisting on being heard or understood, that to change our general reaction to these events is wrenching. But I am here to tell you that its worth it. I can’t tell you how many relationships I have ruined by reacting passionately, or aggressively or vengefully and honesty the old excuse that ‘it felt good at the time’ is actually wrong, I hate myself while I’m acting those ways and I hate myself after I act those ways. There is a certain release that I feel when I give into those passions but that is honestly weakness, losing the grip on the mane, similar to addiction to a drug. Think of it as taking control of your own mind.

Most of us think we control our minds, that we decide everything, but if we look closely at our actions, we may see that a lot of the time we are behaving reflexively or emotionally, without making the conscious decision to act, in any of the ways we act, at all.

…so she stepped outside, the garden spread out before her in a blast of colors, the scents of which slowly engulfed her as the lazy warm breeze brushed against her tanned face, her long brown hair dancing delicately. The sun shone brightly and her slim figure cast a long shadow behind her as she moved out onto the grass. She moved down the old driftwood steps, they so worn in places you stepped on only rounded, jutting wood and sand at times. Steps, lost in thought as she made her way onto the path that led through the garden and to the small creek just beyond.

As she made her way among the tall grass and flowers familier questions rolled around in her mind. How did she get here? How did this happen? Sometimes you live and make decisions as you go, it’s what I want now, you tell yourself and the next thing you know you’re not at all where you want to be, or where you thought you’d end up. That is the danger in letting life dictate to you rather then moving deliberately toward a goal. She smiled, her father would be proud. Maybe if she had listened, maybe if she had thought more about the things he tried to teach her rather then always that he didn’t know her at all! And he didn’t understand! Then she wouldn’t be in this situation! Haha, this mess…

But he was gone, and he wasn’t coming...

A sound from the path focused her again, her thoughts scattered as she looked up, she scanned the garden knowing already what it was, and then she saw him. She hadn’t expected him this fast. She knew he would find her but she thought she would have more time. But he was here and he was moving swiftly down the path toward her, his gaze already fixed on her and it wasn’t friendly. She had to get out of there, now. He was still a few dozen or so yards away, quickly she moved along the shore line in a crouch temporarily disappearing from view behind the tall flowers and high grass, he hesitated a bit, trying to determine which direction she had gone, this was all the time she needed, she scrambled toward the small row boat that was always available on the shore of the creek tied with a short rope to an eye bolt dug into the ground. As she had done a thousand times before, she quickly loosed the rope and slid the boat into the water as she smoothly settled in and began rowing, within seconds she was well offshore and moving rapidly away.

She watched as he burst from the garden onto the shoreline where the boat had been seconds before and moved several feet out into the water and she feared briefly that he would try to swim out to catch her. She knew the creek well and the deep stream that connected to it and she was a very fast rower but a shiver ran down her spine when she saw him consider giving chase but then he stopped and just stared at her, she wasn’t sure if it was sadness or pity he felt as he watched, motionless, quickly she rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight.

-2-

‘Lilly! Time for supper!!’ Ugh! Soo annoying! Why couldn’t she have one minute of peace! She had only been talking to Jacob for a couple of minutes and it was going so... AWESOME! She was sure he was going to ask her out, she just knew it! And now she had to go eat dried out pork chops and stare across at her stupid gross brother! She just turned 16! If she didn’t want to go to dinner she shouldn’t have too, ‘Lilly! Please come down!’ Her relentless mother yelled again, she said her goodbyes to Jacob promising to call him right after dinner. She hung up and headed downstairs.

The sun was shining through a crack in the curtains on her bedroom window right into her eyes, she tried to ignore it at first but then her brain started working and she remembered it was her birthday! She was 8 years old and she was getting a pony! She just knew it! Her feet barely touched the floor as she floated downstairs to where her mother and father waited at the breakfast table surprised to see her up so early. Her mom didn’t act like anything was different that day but daddy couldn’t hide anything from her and she could see the twinkle in his eye as he said good morning and tried not to look at her......

-3-

The rustling of the wind through the leaves woke her and as she looked up she could see in patches through the thick trees that the sun was almost all the way up and streaming through gaps in the branches. She was stiff and her clothes were soppy as she sat up in her bed of leaves and twigs. She had covered herself as best she could after she sunk the boat and swam ashore. She didn’t have time to dry off and she couldn’t risk starting a fire so she just covered herself with what was available and slept, despite how uncomfortable it was she was surprised that she slept so long. It was then that it all came back to her in a rush. The appearance of the man, the close getaway in the boat…

After she was satisfied she had gone a safe distance she decided that she should try and rest. She couldn’t risk him finding the boat and then her. Now she had to figure out what to do. She couldn’t go home. No, she could never go home again....

From there she made her way through the woods and because she still wasn’t that far from home she knew these woods well, she had been getting stoned and making out with boys around here for longer than she wanted to admit. But she still had to be careful, she was relieved obviously that she hadn’t been found, but it didn’t do much to make her feel better. She still felt very tense and found herself looking over her shoulder as she made her way to her decided destination; Knowing he was looking for her, knowing he was close.

She walked most of the morning through the woods, exhausted by this point; thirsty, hungry and tired, but resting was not an option, her pursuer wouldn’t rest, she knew, she couldn’t either, and when she came to the highway she walked just inside the treeline so as not to be seen from any cars that drove by. Morning turned to afternoon and still she walked, trudging just out of site, knowing where she should go and fearing that almost as much as her stalker.

-4-

By the time the sun began to set and the shadows of the world lengthen, she could see the lights of a diner just a little further up the road. Deciding she could afford to stop there, at least for a bit, she had to get something to eat and rest for a bit before she continued on or she would collapse; and there might even be a chance she could hitch a ride, at least part of the way, maybe then….a sound from behind her froze her. There is no way he could have found me this fast, no way! She scanned the forest all about her, holding her breath, afraid to move, it was then that she caught the glimpse of a person move swiftly through the woods and all thought of discretion was gone, she took off on a dead run. If I can reach that diner maybe I can get help. Thrashing through the brush as fast as her legs would carry, stumbling and almost falling several times as branches whipped her face and grabbed at her clothing; she ignored it all, desperate to escape. In seconds she was back on the street sprinting down the center of the highway, heedless of any danger from cars, only the man following, she headed toward the diner; if she could just make it, she reasoned, she would be safe.

She burst through the doors of the tiny restaurant, her clothes wet and torn, her face dirty, her hair a tangled mess. She immediately stopped, just inside, the danger momentarily forgotten. She could see that there was a single customer; a man was seated at the counter eating soup. He had not bothered to turn around when she entered, even though it must have been enough of a frantic entrance to at least illicit a look. He did not however, even pause from his meal. He was the only person she saw, no employees visible to her in that moment. Standing a moment longer then she would have thought possible moments before, all of a sudden not sure what to do, then the panic and dread and fear came rushing back and she forced herself to speak, her voice sounding so thin and weak to her ears; she managed to say, barely louder than a whisper, “help me sir”.

The man turned slightly then, pausing from his meal for a moment to glance sideways at the ragged figure in the door addressing him. She saw a flash of annoyance cross his face as if to say “whatever your issue, trust me, its not worth my time” but then he turned more fully and got a direct look at the sad, helpless creature before him and the annoyance was replaced with surprise, then concern, she saw all this in an instant then everything went black…

-5-

Floating again, peaceful warm, no direction, no cares. She was in a gauzy cloud, a deep, white fog surrounded her but she could see a spot that was brighter than the rest and she headed for it. It was so hard and she felt so tired. The effort to reach it almost more the she could manage, but the closer she got the larger the spot grew. Her vision began to clear and she could feel her heavy eyelids begin to flutter. She opened them just a bit; the world was blurry at first. Too bright. She began to make out that she was in a bed covered in old worn and musty blankets. She could also feel that she was undressed. Not totally, whoever undressed her had at least, thankfully, left her underwear and tank top on. Her vision began to sharpen and as she struggled to sit up she could see she was in a small room with one window where a soft breeze lifted the light lace curtains hanging in front.

The room was very small, barely large enough for the bed and the side table, which held a lamp. The room also had an almost overwhelming smell of mothballs. She never understood the mothball thing; give her moths over that horrible smell any day.

“Hellooooooo”a voice thrashed through the door scattering her thoughts and causing her heart to race as she felt her throat tighten to the point of suffocation and she felt the panic welling in her chest and neck. She was never one to panic and she quickly got her mind under control as she sat on the corner of the bed and tried to steady her breathing. “Hell-loooo” the voice burst out again but she was ready this time and in a steady voice simply replied, “what?”. The door wasn’t locked so she was prepared that at any second the door might bust open and that would be the end, but the door remained closed. She then heard the voice again, a man’s voice, that much was obvious and this time it was much calmer and softer after her cold response. “There’s some food out here for you, you must be hungry”. “Uuuhhhh ooook” she said shakily. She heard him walk away down the hall and she relaxed just a bit. She scanned the room and spied one of her boots sticking out of the partially closed closet door. After putting her shirt and pants on, she quickly slid over to the closet and as quietly as possible pulled her boots on. It felt good to be whole.

Dressed and ready she moved toward the door and slowly turned the brass knob, as the hinges painfully creaked, causing a bit of panic once again which required another deep breath, she glanced into the empty hallway and softly stepped out of the little bedroom.

The large man turned then, the light coming from behind making his face dark, she could see the deep lines on the side of his face, where a bit of sun hit, crinkle in what she could only assume was a smile. His teeth being a shade brighter than the rest of his face, gave him a sinister look. He made no movement, not wanted to scare the delicate, frightened creature in from of him. “Who are you?” she managed to breathe out, barely perceptible to even her own ears, “I’m your father, The one you thought dead, the one you thought you’d killed; and I’m here to take you home.”

It was then that she knew she was already gone.

How are we supposed to fall in love if we never meet?

So lets talk about online dating. Off and on I’ve been doing it, and railing against it, for years now, so although it may seem like a dated (sorry) topic, I think it’s important to explore a bit how it has not only changed how people meet, but has changed our views of love, relationships and how we treat each other. Our consideration, our compassion for each other is forever changed by living in a digital world.

One of the fundamental issues I have with online dating is the idea that you should “get to know someone” online before you actually meet, this never made any sense to me and is as modern as modern gets; the absurd notion that you can tell anything about someone from reading some facts on a page or even from a few “best behavior” conversations, is amazing. I’m sure what you write on your profile is your completely honest assessment of what your mild likes and dislikes are, but that’s not reality, its not nearly who you are on a day to day basis and it TOTALLY excludes a large part of relationships… Chemistry. The, in each others presence kind, you know, how people have been communicating since they’ve been walking upright. The belief that we now know better then all the humans who have ever lived (including Shakespeare and stuff, yup) as to the best way to initiate a relationship is disconcerting to say the least to anyone born before 1980. I have discussed this with more then a few woman and was surprised to learn a lot of them actually prefer to meet this way.

I‘ve heard all the reasons and they are not all without merit.

The issue of safely may be referenced of course, or volume.

As far as safety is concerned, it is a completely reasonable trepidation, my only counter would be, is a psycho going to tell you this during your first interaction? Or through text? Or say on their profile that they are, in fact, a violent psychopath? Probably not; there’s just no way to know till you actually are in someones presence. Coffee, a walk, ice skating, whatever, these are all real life ways to get a gauge on what someone is all about.

I’m often reminded, when navigating this topic, of the great underrated (or… umm…unknown) film “Amazon Woman on the Moon” which is a bunch of vignettes tied together with the “Time to Make the Donuts” guy (trust me, its much better then that sounds). The one I am referring to is the skit with Steve Guttenberg and Rosanna Arquette where he arrives for a first date and she asks him for his drivers license which she then runs through this phone, faxy thingy and it gives her a readout of his entire sexual history. Needless to say, the date didn’t happen. I remember thinking how ridiculous that seemed when I first watched it; it’s an absurd comedy after all, but the most amazing thing is anyone who saw that now wouldn’t think it was unusual at all, check it out here. It is truly an example of art (imitating? no) becoming life. Like 1984 or something.

Now don’t get me wrong, I have used these apps on occasion, due in large part to my changing careers. No longer working late nights, followed by drinking with coworkers, lowers your odd of meeting people drastically, who would’ve guessed that!? And also, when you get older its harder to meet people, it just is; who wants to hang out at the bar till closing 2–3 times a week after 40? Not too cool. So when in Paris right? It’s what everyone is doing now so you kinda have to, don’t you? I mean what’s the practical alternative? It hasn’t been a total disaster; I have even had women I met on these apps come directly to my house with nothing more then an exchange of a few text messages, I never would have imagined that 20 years ago. Talk about a tremendous potential for danger. So, that’s not it.

I have also met some really cool woman online and had some enriching, interesting evenings, and a few, I have seen more then once; the problem I think though is the perception that there is always somebody better. It is so easy now to meet online and hangout or hook-up that the stakes have changed tremendously.

One of the problems as I see it is the disposability of it all. Judging people in this way, mainly physically, and also making an immediate harsh determination, desensitizes us to meanness. At the first sign that someone, literally, is not Prince Charming or Sleeping Beauty, then see ya, I’m sure we’ll link up tomorrow with someone much better. Why stick around for someone who isn’t ‘perfect’? The whole online culture has tremendous potential to warp human compassion and patience.

We see it already with twitter wars and the posting of vicious insults between people who have never met; they feel they can treat each other however they want, without consequence. Its largely that, the lack of consequence. It creates a cold, harsh, superficial environment and dating apps are an extension of this societal shift. It’s this lack of sensitivity, compassion and consequence which contribute to the much larger problems we are now seeing with the increase in violence.

Your odds of success increase the more people you date, Volume; its science. Date a million people and your Bound to meet Someone. Right? Right? The problem is the antiseptic, cavalier nature of the matching can desensitize us to emotional investment, which is KINDA IMPORTANT when your goal is finding love, and also, what can be an individuals idea of who they are and what is good for them can make the matches inconsistent to say the least. Who we find attractive on a screen could be totally divergent from who would find us attractive or who would actually be right for us, or we could aim too high and just be disappointed over and over. Now, I’m all for taking chances and having high self esteem and all that, but if I’m not going to be happy with anyone who doesn’t look like Natalie Portman then I think I’m probably setting myself up for failure.

Online dating and these apps would be fine if it were part of a larger environment of dating, but the fact is, this is how most men and woman ages 20 to 40 are choosing to connect these days. I have had conversations with woman who have told me they only really consider guys they meet online. Now, I know i’m old, but this cant be good….and Get off my Lawn!

When you meet someone face to face, there is just so much different energy you are receiving from them, the way they move, their scent, the little nuisances when they speak, the sound of their laugh, voice; all these things are part of attraction. Not the bullshit blurb someone writes about who they think they are and all the pictures showing “WHAT A GOOD TIME I’M ALWAYS HAVING”. This is not who a person is, it is who they want to be and who they want the world to think they are. It could contain some elements of truth but it takes people a lifetime to know themselves, how could they accurately tell YOU? This creates an Illusion of safety. The idea of control. As a result we become less adept at interacting in person.

This technology and these options are in their cell splitting in the womb infancy, so maybe we will see some self regulating; maybe we will find a balance between on-line life and real life, I’m not saying there is no place for these conveniences, I’m just suggesting maybe we look up at what’s right in front of us a little again.

Stepping out into the extreme cold, his layers of clothing doing little to shield his body against the hungry already gnawing, frigid air, his Monster again sternly forcing his participation in an endeavor, which neither instilled appreciation in the boy from his involvement, nor actually even taught him anything due to the noteworthy ambition not being his education, betterment or wellbeing, but from a place of deep hatred and resentment, as punishment, for reasons unknown to the boy, reasons only known to the Monster. The boy had long suspected that his Monster hated him, but the boy couldn’t bring himself to think like that, although the Monster did little to try and hide it, he would ridicule, set up and abuse, emotionally and physically, relentlessly hoping to crush his spirit, gain absolute control, using the tactics of an adolescent he oppressed. His Monster lived in his world, a permanent dark figure, unwavering, immovable, usurping his home, destroying his peace; if there were a home without dread, he was a stranger to it; forever stepping meekly through life, always afraid of reprisal, punishment for imagined slights or illusionary errors, for his Monster was always watching. Claiming his blood as his own. A boy would grow in the shadow of the Monster, whose effect was as yet unknown, the boy would grow, a seemingly bright spirit. Damage unseen. Navigating the world with cheerful numbness, immune to the pain of others beneath the callousness the Monster wrought, eyes blurrily fixated forward, the cavern yawning beneath, unseen, delusion the religion of the boy now, damning as pure victim, his own brand of destruction followed the boy, no longer under the yoke of the Monster yet continued as perceived tyrant and after many recriminations and a history of tears, the hurt not just received now but caused, increasingly his.

Awakening in the morning, just another day, going about his daily business, preparing to enter the world, a hulking twisted figure in the mirror catches the corner of his eye, a chill runs down his spine not knowing the terror about to befall, memories come flooding back, ’here?! ‘now?!’ ‘how can this be?!’ looking down seeing the creatures hand was in fact his own, he slowing turns to meet this threat, facing fully the mirror a reflection now seen, confirming his darkest fears, the source of his horror now known, screaming aloud ‘the monster is me!’

We were born into a world of magic, adults lived in the bright, obvious, serious, boring world, we moved in the shadows, in a world of endless possibility, we were sure of the magic, the air crackled as we moved through it, a familiar pleasant buzz in our ears, life coursing through us, older people went about their dreary days, the buzz silent, toiling, hardly noticing the adventures taking place around them, under foot, those times long forgotten, lost now, buried, hurt, pain, heartache, just for the oldies, we make our world, every moment to come sure to be more amazing than the last, glittering, elusively passing, fading, unknowingly, anticipation our power; churning through the world possessing unadulterated joy, oh so very young, our bodies burning, we knew how special, how rare and transient, but couldn’t quite truly feel it, didn’t care to, conviction weakened with lack of context, consequence not our destroying angel yet, but passion, studying the grain of the tree with earnest intensity. Passion without the crudeness of lust, free from vulgar desire, just before first kisses and crushes, passion for life, for living, for discovering, a world still new in our hands……….

The taste of burnt on our way overdone, dried out burgers, so perfect; with the ketchup dripping down our wrists as we rushed to finish and rejoin the reverie.

The scene changing from bright yellow to dusky brown before settling on a dusky moon lit charcoal, us just silhouettes bounding.

Mosquitoes chased all the while, leaving accepted welts, ignored for now, “Lets out run them!” “Ok!” “Look!” and the cloud of bugs trails after….

We caught fireflies at the edge of the bon fire while the parents all laughed and yelled, a distant garble of noise to us, proof though, that the nite was far from over; we put them in a pickle jar and put some grass in too, in case they got hungry, we poked holes in the top so they could breathe and danced around with our lighted jars, and were sad in the morning when we saw they had died, we dug little holes and buried them just so and moved on to the next game, after oatmeal and things…

At the beach we got too much sun and peeled and ached for days, as we ran back and forth into the icy water, trying to catch the tide the exact moment it changed from high to low. Grasping as the sea escaped through our fingers….

We dug shallow holes that filled with water and made mounds of castles…

We rolled down the cliff and got covered in sand and when we tried to run down our legs sank down to the knee…..

Time to go now, a sleepy buzz behind our eyes, as we ride in the car, with all the widows rolled down and the still hot air blasts our faces, the sun recedes again as another day fades……

We sleep in our still damp swim trunks with dirty feet….