Entry 20 (Conversion of a believer)

I have never been prejudice when it comes to love or matters of the heart. The one common trait that the women I've approached was that they were women. For me it was never about bedding them, it was about exploring possibilities, engaing in the pursuit, and venturing into the newness. Although the reasons mentionned before were always at the core, there was always a hint of being a lover of life, and student of growth that ha importance in the relationships made.
I often think that it is precisely this thinking that has gotten me into trouble... actually it has been the cause of many a broken heart.... (actually hearts can't break, the most that happens is they tear, then eventually are mended.)

Today, I have a vivid memory of one experience in particular while vacationning one july. I had just arrived Hotel Le Crystal for an extended stay in Montreal to do some writing and simply enjoy some time away from the familliar faces. Immediatelty, as I often do, I dropped off my lugage and walked around the city to find a quite cafe which to make my unofficial writing quaters for my duration of my stay. I remember finding a place by Place Victor Hugo, sitting to a tea and noticing a young lady crossing the street. Now usually the sight of a young lady isn't enough to interrupt my writing, but something about this one made me watch her as she carefreely crossed the street and went into the corner deli. My first instinct was to look at my watch and register the time and make a mental note(this is a practice I to this day maintain, as to have an idea of what time the initial contact was made). I continued my writing and as she walked out the store, made another mental note as to which direction she went.

The following day, I looked up from my tea and noticed the young lady again repeating the exact steps she took the day before. I looked at my watch and concluded that this was part of her routine. I decided at that moment, I would also become part of that routine.

Day 3
As she approached the local store, and I made it a point to also enter the store. "Good day, it truely is a beautiful day". She smiled and agreed. "I have a issue weighting heavy on my soul and need someone to talk to, would you mind keeping me company for a few minutes over a cup of tea?" she hesitated initially but then agreed telling me she had 30 minutes (in my head, I told myself that was 25 more than I would need). We crossed the street and being the gentleman that I am, I pulled her chair out for her and waitied for her to sit before I myself sat down across from her. Now, this sight must have been a a little odd with the natives - a well dressed chap and a nun having tea.

I proceeded to ask her a series of questions.
- Isn't religion that thing that makes you believe? that thing that makes you feel alive? that thing that makes you a better person?
She agreed
- Isn't religion the thing you live, the thing that directs, and gives direction?
She agreed.
Can't a man be a woman's religion?
She smiled "be very careful"


Day 4
This time simply took my hat off as she spotted me from across the straight on her walk. After her purchase, she came to where I was sitting and said hello.
"can I have a few more minutes of your time today?"
She consented and sat.
This time, I asked her why she decided to become a nun.
"What were your intentions in speaking to me sir?" she asked.
"To be honest with you, there was simply something about you that compelled

(Entry 21) The weight of religion.

I remember walking behind her. No intentions (why does that seem like a the beginning of many of my stories?). I had not even seen her face, it was her walk, her selection in clothing that made my heart race and made me wonder. I had 2 heavy bags in my hands, yet they did not slow me - my stride was a fluid as a seasoned marathon runner. Just as I closed the distance between us, she turned and walked into a store... I decided to not follow, to just keep moving forward. After walking a few blocks, I decided to catch the bus - a rush of blood to the brain , and wondering "would could have happened" has a way of fatiguing even the most experienced of adventurers. I waited a few minutes all while wondering what the young lady looked like. Maybe it was fate that had not seen it fit for me to even see her face - I accepted this.

The bus arrived,

I entered without looking at the faces.

I sat,

My heart raced.

I felt as If I had been hit in the chest with a ton of bricks.

She was sitting on the bus, and we were positioned almost as to force us to look at each other.

The young lady had on a veil, and only her eyes showed. Never had the truth "the eyes are the window to the soul' rang truer. We made eye contact, and I was flooded with conflicting thoughts. I was for the first time looking into a woman's eyes and felt feverish. I was drawn yet, couldn't move forward. She was Muslim - How could I approach her? what could I say? I was at a lost, but couldn't stop looking and feeling that I was finally found. She looked as well, at first I thought it was because I made her feel uneasy, but I soon realized that it was more than that. She looked, and I saw a mirror image.... the same confusion, same thoughts. We just looked at each other, neither of us doing more than breaking a little smile. The bus ride itself was a walk in heaven through endless fields of fire. I dared not move closer to her as I may have done to someone else, I was frozen by her eyes and my pride. I could only hope that she would get off before me and then maybe I would follow and speak to her once off the bus.

My stop came... I sighed. I made those conscious movements that let her know I was going to get off even before the bus actually came to a stop. She looked without taking her eyes off me. The bags I was holding had somehow without physically getting bigger, weighed more now than when I left the store. Maybe my heart had found a way into the bag and tried it's best to keep me from moving... maybe I need her hands to protect my heart. I moved slowly to the front of the bus directly in front of her - she looked one last time and said - Peace.

I responded as I exited the bus smiling.... howeverI knew I would not find Peace.

(Entry 20) Not falling in love - Loving Fall...Winter, Spring, and Summer.

I have acted as 'wing man' / co-pilot on numerous occasions and understand that it's simply one of many unspoken rules of friendship.


I pride myself on being able to assess situations, and generally am able to strike up, maintain,and prolong conversations, so when I was asked to accompany a male friend who was meeting 2 female friends I didn't hesitate in the least.

It was one of those rainy fall evenings where instead of the rain drops refreshing, they seemed intent on weighing you down, and washing away all excitement from you. Possibly it was my refusal as co-pilot to let the vessel return to it's base with it's mission incomplete, maybe it was the melancholy mood induced by the rain, either way, I decided that this evening would be one that would not be easily forgotten.


Now understand, I don't play court jester, or try to deceive, I simply make it a point to be attentive, and am usually able the cater to the hunger one longs for. That evening, I acted as if only she existed ...but then again, only she existed. While I had no intentions on pursuing any thing with her after that evening, I catered to her without catering to any silly whims. That night we danced, talked, indulged in an occasional flow of liqueur, and peppered the night with a moderate amount of innocent smiles thus simmering the dish called possibilities. As the night started to come to a close, she expressed that she was feeling a little under the weather, and that the rain certainly didn't help. I asked her if we could exchange numbers, and I'd be sure to check up on her in the next few days. Numbers were exchanged and the night eventually came to an end as I walked her and the other 2 to a waiting taxi.

By now the rain was coming down with no end in sight, yet I felt as agile as Fred Astaire dancing between rain drops. It wasn't love, it was about enjoying the moment, and savoring it. The raindrops no longer felt heavy, instead they were the sweet tears of joy of the Gods as they whispered "finally a mortal who appreciates the beauty of life" - I was not in love, I was alive.
The next morning I called the young lady to simply check on her with no hidden intentions. She answered the phone and immediately I knew she was sick. Without hesitation I asked for her address, and told her I was on my way as I knew she hadn't eaten. Within an hour and a half I was warming up some soup, and pouring her a glass of orange juice... my job here was complete.

Some time after, I asked her what it was that caused a random encounter lead to more. After a brief pause she looked at me and told me that although the night was fun, it was the morning that revealed who I was. `

To those who follow the site...

For those of you who follow this blog, I certainly didn't mean to stay away from it this long. The last post was actually incomplete (as soon have commented), it was one that I started working on, and was sure it would be finished by the date I had preset it to be posted.... I forgot about it, but it didn't forget to go up. I'll leave it up as it's indicative of relationship, love, life.... sometimes things happen and don't simultaneously, sometimes it's what we want, but not how we want it... sometimes we're just stories waiting to be edited, and completed.

I have never fooled myself into believing that I was the most attractive, the most intelligent, the most calculating, and / or the wisest, but to find the most in any one of those 4 catagories, you'd have to find 4 different men. Now, if you're looking for one man who emcompassed all the above, my experiences have certainly qualified me as a front runner for the position.

Maybe it was the crisp Spring air that made me think of she, maybe it was simply because I saw her crooked smile smile when I looked at a few faces on my daily commute. She was one of those women who enjoyed the spotlight (eventhough she wasn't breed for it, and didn't belong because of her lack of finesse) so, in an attempt to bask in the glow of the spotlights, she was in constant pursuit of that guy that would give her access to that world. From the moment I met her, I knew she had no real talent that would propel her to fame (unless determination, cunningness, and pursuit of the right victim was a talent), but something about her still attracted me to her. Maybe it was the moment she made it a point to tell me that I wasn't her type (at times like these, I made it a point not to show emotion, my facial expression remains the same, although a devilish grin envellops my heart). Her words do 2 things.
1. Kill all possibilities, for I tell myself if I am not your type, chances are you're not aiming very high. Ultimately you become prey and not a worthy companion.

2. It tells me that our time is short.

Now, I'm not a man who looks to waste his time, but in all honesty, even the busiest of men has time for occasional diversions. I looked at her telling her that I understood, and that although I wasn't her typ e, our moments werre golden and that I fully enjoyed them. I saw that this was going to be very tactical. I asked what it was that she wanted in a man (not because I had any itentions on trying to do those things) but simply to let her speak. I have long realized that allowing a person to tell you what they think you can't provide gives them a sense of power, but without realizing it, this actually empowers the listener. I knew it was the right moment

(Entry 19) Good Me, Evil Me

Is it better to have loved and lost or never have loved?

As she answered it was better to have loved and lost, I smiled a melancholic smile because at that moment I knew her better than she knew herself. I instantly knew she had been the victim of sweet lies,I understood that she was a blank canvas still waiting to be painted, an idea eager to be bought to life.

To love and lose is to love with reckless abandon, to love with no hints of selfishness; for one can't lose what one never had to give. I am not smarter than most, I'm just less ignorant than many - mans predatory nature adds sugar to his words and camouflages his blade.

I looked at her and as if my mind was the stage for a Shakespearean melodrama, the good and evil me played antagonist and protagonist.

Evil Me - Woman, I will make you love me
Good Me - Woman, I will make you love me and teach you a new love.
Evil Me - Countless others have tried to capture your heart with sweet lies, so you will surely open your arms to me.
Good Me - I will try to win your heart, but you have to be willing to open your heart to the possibilities of me.
Evil me - We can love with no regard to the other, I know that you will be hurt when it's all said and done but I don't mind.
Good Me - We can take this chance to explore love. knowing that a good tomorrow can only be built on a good today.
Evil Me - I will be every thing you want.
Good Me - I will try to be every thing you need and I hope to be all the things you want.

Evil Me exists the stage.


I smiled and ask her if she understood what it means to chose loving and losing over never loving. She replied timidly yes. I press on. to be open to loving and losing over never loving means that if a potential prospect comes into your life, you would consider or at least be open to the possibilities. This means you are open to putting down your walls of resistance even if it were for us to enjoy each others company even if it were for one day. you would be willing to share everything with me with no regrets. tell me some of your most intimate secrets, your dreams, and your desires. It means you would allow your heart to race faster without trying to coral or restrict it. She looked at me not knowing what to say.... I smiled and moved closer to her, I leaned in and kissed her check... then told her softly that she wasn't ready to love.

Good Me exist the room.

Entry 18 (I can read her like a book)

I can read her like a book - She stays busy, constantly engages in creative activities, and travels all in the name of peace of mind. To approach her is difficult because she positions herself in ways that allows for quick and safe retreat. She is the most exotic creature which you feel you must approach with caution out of fear of watching this endangered species disappear forever. She reads like the most beautiful novel, her smile are the pages, her soul the chapters, her piercing eyes are the ink that keep me wanting more... So I continue to read.

She is part of the world yet apart from the world. She lives within her head, while still living around the core of her heart, and simultaneously leading my soul in dance.

She is braille, while I am able to touch her, I am still trying to learn her. She is Latin, the base of here and now, yet a distant language. She reads like a book that has yet to be completed, I am turning every page while anticipating the next. For the first time I don't want to know the end of the story... all that matters is the current chapter... all that matters is that I am part of her story. So, I sit back and continue to read her ... because she is the most beautiful story ever written.

Like with any great novel, no word is wasteful, no action insignificant, every line has a purpose, every page brings clearer meaning to the complete story. I don't want to let this read to be like any of the past, I can see that there is something biblical about this one, something connected to the heavens, to the soul, to my spirit.

I can read her like a book - only if she allows me to be the reader.