Saturday, August 14, 2010

The Waiting game

I’ve been doing the long distance thing.
For the last two months, we’ve been trying to keep it together over the phone and through letters in the mail.
I know I’m old fashioned. And no, I don’t think chivalry is dead. Shit, it’s pretty much my whole game plan.
But with one month left on the wait, she told me she wants a break.
People tell me she’s found another and I should do the same.
She says she needs some breathing room. She also told me that I shouldn’t make it a big deal about when she gets back and that I shouldn’t have any expectations of us.
Okay, Phil Jackson.
Ever since, the phone calls have been few and far between. She no longer calls me “baby,” but “Rhys”. She no longer talks to me as her lover but a friend. No more text messages good night. No more “I miss you’s”. No more “I wish you were here’s.” Nada.
When she told me: “I need a break.” I didn’t know she really meant: “Let’s break up.”
Infatuation will make you blind..
In the meantime, I’ve been able to meet a few girls.
Some are gorgeous, others outgoing. Some don’t have enough to say. Others just won’t shut up. Either way, these other girls don’t capture my attention the way she does.
None can make me smile the way she does. None give me that warm tingly feeling inside. Yeah, I said it: THAT WARM TINGLY FEELING INSIDE.
Maybe these other girls aren’t captivating me because my heart is thousands of miles away. Maybe these girls are interested in me because they know that.
Most people say I’m too young to get involved and that this is the time of my life to just have fun.
I’m an aspiring journalist headed wherever wherever might take me.
She’s an aspiring photographer/ environmentalist / dreamer with beautiful brown hair, light brown eyes and a smile that’d light up a room.
And I’m convinced that something as special as this will be hard –if not impossible- to replace.
I can’t count on finding someone like this “just around the corner.” I’d like to think of her as the girl around the corner, through the bend, across the river, down the valley and atop the mountain.
Yeah, her affection hasn’t come easy. But when it does, I’m reminded that it’s worth the work.
Sometimes she tells me I'm too much. But if she keeps letting me do it, I must be doing something right. Right? Anyways, I'd rather try my best than look back and say I didn't try hard enough.
And I now know what attracts me to her isn’t just who she is. It’s the person she brings out in me.
The guy who writes her letters just because.
The guy who plucks his four-string ukulele and sings her to sleep.
The guy who, even while she’s away, continues to strum his ukulele as if she never left his side.
Hopefully when she returns, she’ll want to be there to listen.
In the meantime, I’ll sing to myself.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Sombreros..Don't leave Mexico without 'em



A timeline of me and my brother's 15-hour Mexican adventure

10:12 p.m. Arrive in Santa Monica.

10:13 Headed toward the border.

12:15 Just crossed the border. Doing the patriotic thing by drinking Sam Adam’s – summer ale.

1247 a.m. Our first $20 goes toward paying the police off for peeing in public. Wish I could just pay the police off in America. Welcome to Mexico.

2:00 a.m. Arrive at some club in Rosarito. Guy tells us 12 bucks gets us drinks all night. Not really..

3:20 a.m. Arrive in Encinitas. Headed south til the sunrise.

4:01 a.m. Headed inland into Chihuahua county. Wrong move. Chihuahua county is No Man's Land, where many have been killed because of drug violence lately. Headed back toward the coast.

5:15 a.m. We’re trying to find a place to rest our heads. Resorted to knocking on some old lady’s door to see if we can park our car and sleep in her oceanfront driveway. $5 ocean views.

7:15 Rise and shine!

7:45 Surfing the pier in Encinitas. Sick lefts.. Me and my bro are the only ones without wetsuits. All the locals are laughing at us freeze our ass off. The taste of cheap tequila still sits in my mouth.

12:06 p.m. To go cups for my margarita. Only in Mexico..

1:00 p.m. Back in Encinitas for surf session #2. Troy can barely stand up on his board.

3:15 p.m. Bumping Gregory isaacs in the middle of the desert. Classic…

12:29 p.m. Ensenada tequila bar. Spilt salsa all over my shorts. Not surprised.

3:37 p.m. Headed back over the border. Sombreros back on.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Happy Mother's Day! By the way, who's my father?

People tell me I'm still stuck in the 90's.
Call me old fashioned, but I'd probably be carrying around a clunky CD player if I wasn't given an iPod; probably still be carrying around a pager if they still made 'em. If someone else didn't open me up a Facebook page, social networking would be done - in person - on Friday and Saturday night.
I knew I had it right the first time.
I recently found out (via Facebook) my mom has a few hollow bones in her closet.
Apparently, mama was a promiscuous one.
At first, I thought the occasional random lady wanted to be my FB friend.
Apparently not.
Along with her friend request was a message saying that she grew up with my mom and that her brother thinks he's my father. No big deal. (Gulp).
Ahhh life and all of its surprises..
So me and mommy had a wittle talk that went a wittle something like this:

Me: So, mom.... Some lady told me that her brother thinks he's my father.
Mom: (Pause) Gosh...He's not your father.
Me: So there was another guy you were seeing while you were with my father?!?
Mom: Well...Yeah, but he's not your father.
Me: How do you know?
Mom: We took a blood test.
Me: (Jaws dropped) Gah.

I can see it now. Jan. 7, 1988. 5:48 p.m. Wailuku Memorial Hospital. Little bastard baby Rhys is born. Mother in tears of joy. Father in disbelief - footlong cell phone in hand - searching for his lawyer's digits.
Me and my father were never really close. As a child he'd visit me but once a year. And that one day, my birthday, is the day the doubt began.
I don't blame him either.
Saw a picture of my "so-called" father in his hay-day.
Turns out this guy's got my coffee-colored skin. My $1,000,000 smile. Bold eyebrows. Wavy hair.
Damn, this guy is a stud!
This guy looks more like my father than my father looks like me! Or I look like my father?
Either way, I'm pretty sure this guy IS my father!
Oh God... this means that I don't belong to the family I thought I was a part of. This means that I wasn't conceived in a green plantation house just steps away from the beach.
But ah, what can I do about it? I came out fine. Well, at least I think so. So my love for you will remain the same.
Oh mama... the one person I've spent my entire life with yet know nothing about. I love you. Thank you for sticking by my side - even when my father didn't. Whoever that is.
Oh Technology... how I wish you would mind your own business. Some things are better left unsaid.
Facebook: Just another way to spread the drama.
I miss the 90s.

Happy Mother's Day.

P.S. I haven't told my "real" father about the Facebook encounter. He may truly disown me if reminded. Figure somewhat of a father is better than none.

Gone searching for his side of the story...

Sunday, March 28, 2010

10 things that piss me off

Most would say I'm a pretty laid back guy. My attitude: mellow. My simple loves: Sunsets, bbq's and brunettes. You know, nothing out of the ordinary.

But there's a dark side to every one, and nothing brings that out more than these 10 things:

1. Too many pretzels in the Chex Mix! Same applies to peanuts in the trail mix.

2. Baby sitting a friend's drunk friend! That isn't my responsibility! Next time it happens I'm leaving 'em on the curb - with their wallet! I charge by the minute!

3. When motorcyclists rev their engine! You guys think the grueling pop of your engine sounds cool? Do everybody a favor and kill yo' self!

4. Not enough ice in my ice water! I like my drinks ice-cold damnit!

5. Roommates who put their initials on their groceries! You callin' me a crook?

6. When I get woken up from a good dream! Fellas, you know what I mean. There's only one kind of good dream!

7. The teachers pet! You sit right in front of the damn teacher. Your hand's the first one up when they ask a question. At least let me answer the easy ones! You'll always find a hater in me.

8. Video gamers... You and your "gaming parties." You call that a party? With your 10 big screens, 555 Domino specials and Matrix-esque amount of wires running throughout the dungeon you call your "crib"... You guys are more depressing than anything...Which pisses me off!

9. Leaving my facebook account open to status hackers! What's on my mind? Apparently I need a circumcision.

10. My uncanny ability to always find a way to wreck a good thing. Sometimes I do it and I don't even know it! Sometimes I do it without even trying!

What pisses you off?

Saturday, March 20, 2010

The Rebound Theory

I fall in love too easy.
That's what my brother tells me.
Not like L-O-V-E, but more like deep affection.
After exiting a long-term relationship last September, my brother's never been happier.
"You're free at last," he said.
Only three months after breaking up, however, I met this girl. (Gulp)
She gave me a ride home one day. Then she was my New Year's kiss. Then my birthday gift. Then my Valentine. When we're together we talk, we laugh, we get lost, we watch the Denver Nuggets win, we sip wine and we dance 'til no one else is on the floor.
Most would say I've entered a rebound relationship.
According to wikianswers.com, a rebound relationship is "one in which a person becomes overly quick to commit to a new partner after having experienced an upsetting breakup or divorce. People who have breakups and then immediatley involved themselves with someone else seem to feel the need to prove to themselves they are worthy of love and affection. They may miss the comfort and affection of a regular relationship."
One problem: The description fits me a little too well.
I'm the sentimental type who thinks she's more than just a rebound. She's the spontaneous type that's here one day and gone the next.
Yet I've continued to chase. Always wanting what I can't have...
Now we've agreed to be "once in a while." We're both young and she's confused with what she wants. And I understand. But the more I see this girl, the more I like her.
So seeing each other "once in a while," is just setting me up for failure.
My last relationship was a disaster - and the contamination was on my behalf. It lasted four years but should have ended after two.
I was a cheater. I lived a double life. On one end, I was the caring boyfriend who would do anything for this girl. On the other, I was the smooth-operating player who would wreck things so that I could want her back again. Call it my Achilles heel: Always finding a way to wreck a good thing.
No doubt she was a great girl. We just finally mustered up the courage to tell each other that the relationship was broken into too many pieces to put back together.
Now that I'm single, my brother tells me I should enjoy that freedom.
But since I've met this brown-eyed brunette, my interest in other women has faded. In Santa Barbara, that shouldn't be possible. There's no such thing as a recession on pretty gals in this town. Yet her rich character sets her apart.
So I've found myself trying to be the person I wasn't in my last relationship.
While I've waited for the moments I'd see her again, I've turned a cheek on many-a-drunken kiss and let go when other women attempt to hold my hand.
What's wrong with me!? Why can't I just be cool with "once in a while"? This should be the ideal situation, right? 'The Book' says I shouldn't have to feel guilty hitting on other women.
Maybe I'm just an amateur to the single life. Maybe I'm playing a fool. Maybe I'm fascinated by this girl because it's been so long since I've been single. Or maybe I'm not numb like many of my seasoned college-aged peers who have no problem moving onto the next one. Maybe...
Amongst the confusion, what I do know is this:
I'm not taking it further with other women because I'd rather just be me with this girl, even if she may be a rebound. The me with nothing to hide. The me without the taste of guilt sitting at the tip of my tongue. The me that kisses her - and means it. The me I'd like to be. And that's who I've been.
So I'm gonna do what makes me happy, and ride this one 'til the wheels fall off. Even if I may be at failure's front door.
Damn, I'm a sucker for love.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

What women might want to hear

A list of do's and don'ts for the single fella

It's been a while since I've been single.
Mechanics need work. My moves, eh, a bit rusty. And the pick up lines I'm so accustomed to just aren't picking up anymore.
After recently exiting a four-year relationship, who can blame me?
So fellas, I - by means of trial and a whole lot of error - have created for you -with the help of women who know what they want - a short guide to help you get your mack on. Well, hopefully...

Warning: Every woman is different. Some may absorb while others may frown on the ideas expressed in this column. I will not be held responsible for drinks thrown in the face. Now to my first point.

THE COMPLIMENT

How else did you think you were gonna get in? Your dashing good looks? Your debonair smile? Please... Women love when you notice the little things. Their hair. Their outfit. Their perfume.
Chances are she spent hours getting ready. Those jeans? She probably squeezed into a dozen pairs before she found the ones that hug her hips just right. Case and point: She's dressing up so YOU notice. So let her know.
"We try really, really hard for specific things to be noticed," said a girlfriend of mine. I'll call her Lt. Ginge - your dating authority. "Men don't compliment women enough anymore."
Try throwing her a compliment specific to her natural beauty or one that's exchangeable like clothing.

Natural beauty
Tits and ass are an overly abused target. Try these other points of entry:
-Her slender back
-Feminine hands
-Tiny Waist
-Eye color
-Freckles
-Eyelashes

Exchangable
-Earrings
-Eye shadow
-Necklace
-Dress, color
-Tattoos
-Jeans

"Little things add up to become big things," said Miki Kaneko, a longtime bartender friend. "I like it when guys notice my eye shadow colors. It means they're paying attention and actually looking at my eyes. But don't be too creepy about it."
Ladies do, however, hate it when guys are vague.
Telling them that you "think they're really sexy," or they're "the most beautiful woman you've ever seen," will get you tossed out like yesterday's newspaper. Don't put 'em on a pedestal.
Be specific. Be particular. Be original. Let them know exactly why they're sexy and why they look good.

THE DIG ON DIALOGUE

After catching her attention with a compliment, now it's crunch time! With a small window of opportunity to serve her some game, make the most of it by following these tips.
Anything that has to do with school - don't mention. Nothing keeps the ice more frozen than asking a girl what she's studying.
Offer her something different. Ask her what she does, where she's from or maybe what's the occasion tonight.
And by any means, don't go digging into every detail of your life. It's exhausting. Women want a taste of what you're about, not a four-course meal.
Let her do most of the talking. You ask the questions and add to the conversation. So take interest in what she's talking about, or at least act like it. Hee Hee.
"Let her get comfortable," Lt. Ginge said. "Her getting comfortable and you getting a kiss go hand-in-hand."
Also, remember the damn girl's name! Calling a woman by the wrong name could mean GAME OVER.

FEEL HER OUT

I said out, not up. A subtle touch will help you figure out whether she's romantically inclined, or she's just another pretty face to say hi to. The first touch is like testing a jab to see what your next punch will be.
Start out with a light finger between her shoulder or a hand on the small of her back or at her hip.
"The first touch is important," Kaneko said. "If she's interested in you, she'll hang around. If not, she's gonna shake your hand and get the fuck out."
Try this move: When you want to tell her something, lower your voice, lean in (eye contact should be elsewhere) and ask the question to her neck. This move works well especially in places where it's noisy.
Touch as subtle as your breath, Ginge said, "is one of the sexiest things a guy can do."
*Tooth brushing required.

THE MATH

Fellas, meet the cocktail napkin and the barmaid's pen. Then let her know you want to see her again.
"It's sexy," Lt. Ginge said. "If she really likes you, that number is going on the bathroom window."
Be old school. Otherwise, you'll probably end up lost in the sea of contacts she calls her phone. No napkins? Well MacGyver, match books or the back of a receipt work too.
Either way, giving her your number gives her the option to choose, and doesn't make you look desperate. A Win-Win.

THOSE THAT LEAVE EMPTY HANDED

If it's not your night, it's not your night. Don't force it. Trying too hard often leads to more lameness on your behalf. Breathe.
"Half the women don't know what they want," said Brittany Wilson, a frequent at Santa Barbara's Wildcat club.
Maybe she doesn't like what you have to offer. Maybe you're just friend material. Or maybe 'she's just not that into you!'

What turns you on?