"....In Which Lennon Watches the End of The World In Good Company..."

So, December 21st was the big day when the world ends according to the Mayans and the gullible morons who believed them. For me, it was Friday. It was also Date Night.

I'd already made plans for a date, so if the world ended, I was going to spend it in the company of a beautiful transplant from Atlanta. We met a few months back on my commute to work. She admired my shirt and I admired her gorgeous locs. We talked for a while about psychology and our mutual love for writing, exchanged numbers and kept in touch. Our first date, we had a few drinks at my usual place, went for a walk through the park and talked for hours about everything and nothing all at once. While she's sort of radical in her own way, she's also very old fashioned. Her mother back home kept calling throughout the night and when I told her it was okay to answer it, she picked up and told Mom "I'm actually on a date with a nice gentlemen." This is something I'm not used to hearing women saying about any man....certainly not me (not in a while anyway).

When the chance arose to see her again, I was happy to take it. After all, the world was about to...**stifled laughter**...end. I might not get another chance. As it turned out, she lives three streets down from my house so I walked over and came to her door. Most of my dates usually prefer to meet me wherever we're going, so I'll confess a small thrill at doing things old school. The plan was to take the train downtown and happened across a homestyle-like diner. Once it stirred some memories of her hometown, she insisted we go in for a bite to eat. It wasn't exactly on the itinerary, but I'd never been inside myself, so I figured it wouldn't hurt. We laughed and joked, comparing and contrasting the writer communities in Atlanta and Houston. She told me about how the fallout of a bad breakup had brought her to my fair city. I found myself able to relate better than she knew. Heartbreak and pain can push you in the strangest of directions while you're waiting for the dust to settle until you look up and remember that the dust settling is life taking place.

After lunch, we headed to the movie theater, showing her the beautiful (in my opinion) parts of downtown. The movie theater had a full bar, so we did more laughing before going to see the latest James Bond movie, Skyfall, without confessing to one another until later that we'd both seen it already and just wanted to see it again. Then, there was the kiss....passionate...intense...slightly alcohol inspired. I'm not sure who initiated it, but I know who did absolutely nothing to stop it: both of us. She manuvered her body ever so slightly as if she wanted my hands to travel and explore. I resisted the urge, not so caught in the feeling that I would risk biting off more than I could chew in a public place and yet.....

It was the sort of kiss where you wouldn't even notice if the whole world fell apart in that moment. When I came to my senses, I noticed an older couple trying not to pay attention to us, but the wife seemed oddly compelled to glance over for split seconds at a time as if we were more interesting than the movie. Perhaps, she'd seen it already and didn't want to tell her man. Afterwards, we walked a few blocks from the theater where I showed her the way City Hall lights up after dark. We kissed deeply again despite passers-by. The bus ride home was teeming with smiling, joking and cuddling. We could hear her roommate's unruly guests from across the street as I walked her to her door. Although, I could tell she didn't the night to be over, she didn't stop smiling.

Me: I could come in for a few minutes if you like.

Her: I would like...but you shouldn't. We...

Me: I understand.

Her: I liked this.

Me: I'll tell you....it was nice to spend the end of the world with you.

Her: ......

Me: What?

Her: Do you practice these things you say?

Me: No.

Her: I have no defense for that.

Me: Then, I'll leave while I'm on a roll.

Her: Good night. **kiss**

I have to say.....I understand that I can be a slightly complicated man when it comes to sex and dating, but every so often, it's nice to have a night outside of the worry of trying to end a date with a bang (pun totally intended). If the comet or Cthulu or whatever had come that night, I'm not sure I would have minded.

The ABC's of Lennon...P is for Prince

So, I went out with my friend's roommate a while ago. We went out for drinks, shared a few laughs, went out for a walk in the park and then....sex. I'd planned for us to go to a little dive for a Prince listening party, but sex happened. On the first date. Accidental, without warning, flexible, insatiable, dirty, as-if-I-didn't-have-to-work-in-the-morning sex. Seeing as we had the second worthwhile date conversation I've had in almost four months, I got in touch with her to lobby for a second date. The following is a piece of that conversation.....

Me: So, I'm thinking we can go on the date I had planned in the first place.

Her: The one we went on was fun.

Me: I'll give you that.

Her: So, where were we supposed to go?

Me: A nice little out of the way place. Great for drinks and music. The night we were supposed to go, there was a Prince listening party for the latest album.

Her: He still makes music? Like really? Lol!

Me: ......

Her: What?

Me: Easy, now. Not his Royal Badness.

Her: Why not? He made music when my mom was in college. Let that simmer.

What I'm about to say may come across shallow or awful or any myriad of things. Whatever. I have rules. They're my ABC's. P is for Prince. It doesn't matter how good your conversation is, how smart you are, what sexy heels you have on, how good you look naked (Oh, for the love of Zeus, that woman looks good naked)....thou shalt not blaspheme against his Royal Badness. Ever. When a Prince song comes on, you don't change it. We listen until the song's over. When Purple Rain is on, unless the Houston Texans are playing, I am watching Purple Rain....specifically the opening where he plays "Let's Go Crazy." I understand that everyone is not a Prince fan. That's totally fine. But when I am in Prince Mode....this is the thing that takes you from the Cheesecake Factory to Denny's.

I'm okay with getting crap for this one.

"...In Which Lennon Has Many Mouths to Feed..."

So, I was thinking about a talk I had with a friend recently about relationships and why I don't have a particular taste to be in one and it made me think about my platonic friends (well, most of them are platonic, anyway). They're mainly women because I don't have the stomach to hang out with large groups of men for longer than five minutes (I have my reasons, but that's another blog topic). I was at work recently and every single one of my female coworkers seems to be....in a mood. As I was recounting this to a friend, he told me that if women share a space regularly for an extended amount of time, their menstrual cycles tend to occur closer to each other. I'd heard this before, but I believed it to be an old wives tale (I get a lot of those living in the south).

It occurred to me...there are a lot of women in my life and I love them all. I'm always there when they need me and I always will be. But that's a lot. A lot of feelings, a lot of menstrual cycles, 2 a.m. phone calls, venting, a lot of man problems to listen to, boyfriends to pretend I don't approve of, tall things to grab off the high shelf, heavy things to lift, opinions on hairstyles, opinions on outfits, doors to open, chairs to pull out, purses to hold, more menstrual cycles, toilet seats to remember to leave down....and that's just the ones I don't sleep with.

And I'm supposed to want to sign up for a relationship, too? Just thinking out loud today.

"...In Which Lennon Avoids Male Sabotage..."

I've discovered further proof that men are each other's downfalls. I was thinking about the psychotic woman I wrote about in my last two posts (Follow Up: I haven't heard from her since her four attempts at contacts. I think she's got the message at this point.). On our first....and thankfully last date, we ran into a longtime friend of mine who works nearby. He literally took one look at the woman and pulls me to the side.

Him: Is that the wife?

Me: Come on, man....you know better than that.

Him: So...no?

Me: No.

Him: You need to make her one.

It's important to keep in mind that he'd yet to introduce himself let alone engage her in any form of conversation. All he needed to see was boobs and ass before immediately thinking "Wow, Lennon really needs to snap that up.

I brought me back to another instance where I was hosting a function that was inevitably crashed for reasons unknown by my walking anthrax attack of a former lover and her blissfully ignorant husband. I was going around introducing myself to people, making sure they had everything they needed and found myself talking to a lady friend who'd shown up unexpectedly. The conversation went on for a while when she nudged me and quietly asked why my former was staring a whole in the back of her head. Later that evening, after they'd both left, a couple of the guys were talking with me about the disrespect of The Tumor showing up to clearly show off the new guy.

Friend: Yeah, that was foul. I'm surprised you didn't throw her out.

Me: I would have, but I don't want slut on my hands. That shit gets into your clothes and you won't get the smell out for days.

Friend: That's funny.

Me: Who's laughing? I still have stuff that smells like patchouli and wheatgrass.

Friend: **chuckles** Yeah, you don't need to worry about her. You're better off. She's not exactly...

Me: Not exactly what?

Friend: Well...she's kinda big, you know?

Me: .....

Friend: And, I mean, she has kids. That's two strikes.

Me: Is it?

Friend: Now, you need to be concerned with that sexy thing you were talking to all night.

Me: That....is complicated.

Friend: I mean, there's clearly an attraction there.

Me: Only an attraction. She's spoken for.

Friend: You need to do something about that.

Me: I don't break up happy homes.

Friend: Funny how I didn't see him here.

Me: He's probably at home with their child, man.

Friend: Oh, she has a kid. Well, that's one strike.

Here's another instance where a guy didn't really know either party that well and preceded to judge her worthiness for a monogamous relationship by two things: looks and children. For all he knew, she could have been a known felon. She could have been crazy, jealous, intellectually inferior or any number of things that should take someone out of the running. Why do men do this to each other? My theory is that men who are already in relationships are desperate to drag other men into the same complacency they find themselves in as a twisted form of fellowship.

Another working theory of mine is that it's because men are just plain incompetent when giving advice about women.

Or it could very well just be like this in the South. I haven't quite decided.