Late last night, after initially coding a new home page for my free website using a table, I trekked over to a certain bar known for its action in the back room. It was happening, quite a crowd; more than a few hot young guys taking turns sprawling out on the pool table, like whore d'oevres. Someone offered to give me a BJ. And soon I, too, was surrounded.

But... nothing happened. I didn't get beyond semi, and I didn't feel the spark of excitement. After awhile, I apologized to the guy's scalp, said "nothing personal" to the audience, zipped up and left. I drove home in the muggy heat, windows down and sunroof back, trying to put my head together.

I don't really want a boyfriend -- I want to get out of my current situation, and to do that will require focus: Paying off bills, fixing up the duplex, and then looking for something else somewhere else. I'm not "available" because I want to be free to change jobs or change locations, to make decisions without consequences impacting someone else.

I don't know if I really want sex, either. I can't say I'm under-sexed -- ho ho, not at all these past few years! After a certain point it's not worth it. After a certain point it's meaningless. And that certain point is becoming less and less these past few months. "Everything in moderation." Moving back to Dayton will be a cold time, but there's always options: Roadtrips to Cincy, Columbus, Indianapolis and even Chicago...

I don't know if I'm even open to new friends, now, either. In Cincy, I have C and D, and I couldn't ask for better friends. I have the work crew, with some pretty cool folks. The cynical part of me says: You can never have enough friends. But, blogginks, let me tell you that my experiences with the local yokels have been ... well, I'm out of step. Drugs, Alcohol, and in the case of Dayton, a high amount of misery per capita. As miserable as I probably come off myself in these pages (one purpose of this BLOG after all), I want to preserve hope and optimism with myself as much as I can as I gear up for the next chapter, whatever that might bring or be.

Anticipating how colds things will be if I move back to Dayton, I have some hobbies lined up: This blog for starters has been a lot of fun, and I recently filled out for another one on BLOGGER -- my thought will be that I would begin separating blogs by topic. Teaching myself scriptwriting and html coding are others. With the duplex, there's plenty of projects to bring it up to fabulous. Today, even, I was thinking that if the condition of the floors were such that I couldn't refinish them -- there are signs of old termite damage -- I would paint them a glossy black enamel. With a wine-colored living room wall color and my artwork, it will look freakin awesome.

I spoke to my favorite ex boyfriend in Colorado last night: DJ. He's had an off-again on-again romance this past year, the first boyfriend since we broke up gosh over three years ago. His boyfriend, who I met, is cute, but tells a few tall tales. Like, he's being investigated by the IRS, and it's costing $13,000 a month in legal fees. He's a lawyer AND a doctor AND an ex-model and he's going back for his PhD in Business, all of this and only 26. Oh, did I also mention he's an accomplished sculptor and artist and writer? Well well. Because I want to keep DJ's friendship, I've tried not to give too much of an opinion. I have said, "If he makes you happy and yet you don't believe some of this, does it matter?" Like, the stories are more exaggeration, and if no one gets hurt... But DJ persists in asking questions and they have stormy fights, usually with his friend saying something like: "I can't believe you're questioning me on the day I found out my father had a heart-attack!" or his mother has breast cancer or his brother got into a car accident. Last night, they exchanged mutual "Fuck You's!" and broke up again.

So, I'm gearing up for another two years without even a date. I don't think I'd be able to, even if I wanted to.

Writing this while taking a break from packing; also, after coming back from viewing "Dirty Pretty Things" with D at Newport-on-the-Levy.

On a completely unrelated note, as D and I walked through The Levy on the way to buy tickets, ahead of us, turned to us with a hopeful face, was the circuitparty friend to the guy I dated last fall. I think he was waiting for a date (and he has a boyfriend of seven years. whatever.), and I think he might have thought it was us, not having met in person before. I didn't react and D didn't see him, so we walked by. He was walking away, when with tickets bought, we were on our way to see the movie a few minutes later -- his date a no show.