Broken heart. It's time to start writing again.

This is a dream.
It's after 2am and I've woken up with nothing but these thoughts and pressing urge to put it to paper.

All I want is someone to sing this song with.

In spite of ourselves
We'll end up a'sittin' on a rainbow
Against all odds
Honey, we're the big door prize
We're gonna spite our noses
Right offa our faces
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.

I can't believe I've left this behind for 3 years. Almost to the week. I think writing is what's missing. My creative outlet. My source of comfort and conversation with the universe and a couple others that choose to tune in.

I'm surprised this has happened. I don't know if I've ever been smitten like this or heartbroken quite so quickly. And it's all about timing.

Camping in Maupin over Labor Day weekend. I was invited by a friend who I've known for over 4 years but I came to realize this weekend that I still don't even know him at all. It was a group trip where I ended up being the only girl with 4 guys, all old friends from the Navy.
I was the odd woman out... but it was easily one of the best weekends I've had, in a long time.

This person... we can call him Tony. We used to play softball together, and had been camping before, same area, Summer four years ago. He had already well-developed a reputation of being a slut, passing along among women, being unreliable, etc. And I realize now that certain people who talked to me made sure that I knew this about him. After the season and this epic rafting trip, we all had a great couple months developing a group rapport... there was a house of roommates and the three of us that got mixed into the fold. I loved having people to hang out with like this, play silly drinking games, wander around town, celebrate birthdays. Unfortunately, Tony's girlfriend was young, more insecure than she seemed initially (she was beautiful and witty and fun,  I actually had a mild girl crush on her...) But she began to perceive me as a threat to her guy (at this time any attractive woman could have been considered a real threat, he had a wandering eye) but I wonder if he'd have actually cheated on her...?
I realize I was actually super attracted to this Tony person, but I had also helped instigate a spin-the-bottle game that was the beginning of him dating this girl in the group. This girl was my friend and I was on her team,  I told her as much and I meant it. I would have never participated in something to betray her.  Tony and I did have our spin-the-bottle kiss one night after others had gone to bed... which was sly but still due from the day it was earned a couple weeks prior. It was chemical when we started kissing, he pulled my hips toward him and I knew I had to leave immediately lest I participate in something I would greatly regret. I think he would have slept with me that night. And he shouldn't have wanted to. That made it bearable to shake it off, because I never wanted to date a man that would cheat on me.
I biked home that night, 7 miles, at close to 3 in the morning.
That should have been a clue that there was something there, but it's hard to trust your body when your brain is in conflict.

And so it sat for years. And then there was Manny. Who I loved with all my heart. And still love today, in spite of myself. (And probably always will.) And since he left almost a year and a half ago, I have had this patchwork game of dating and hoping, feeling despondent and taking a break, saying fuck it and trying again, getting onto Match.com for a month, trying MeetUps, saying fuck it and taking a break, getting back on Tinder... you get the picture. I had a guy enamor himself of me one night in Nashville and follow me home. Literally home. Across the country. The problem was he turned out to really just be a puppy, and I already have a dog. A really super awesome one:

Benny, Maupin up some sun spots.

And the strange part is I really have no desire to have any sort of relationship with him anymore, really actually do not want to hear from him at all. I feel like he misrepresented who he was and someone being a liar is not at all a fit for me. I value honesty, open communication and personal clarity to the highest. Know Thyself. Mother trucker.

I realize at the same time that I don't really know this "Tony" as well as I could, and whatever I'm holding in my mind at the moment is a big projection of my thoughts and feelings. But I loved these guys on this trip. I loved all of them in different ways. I loved Kevin's eccentricities, and we had a great conversation on the drive to the site. I loved his whole-hearted laugh and clear vibrant zest for life. He told me things about him trying to make his last five-year relationship work that deserve huge admiration. Any guy willing to go to couple's counseling for over a year, that is a devoted man. That is someone you want fighting for you. I loved Mike's quiet, sweet nature. I loved that he knew how to play Gin Rummy, and had brought cards. He had every candy I needed, Reese's s'mores, voilá, Reese's appeared. Red Vines came in handy as a tool the next day. He was a great listener. Shawn too. So quiet I kept trying to draw info out of him, requesting to know more of his life. I saw him in the hammock when we got back from rafting and immediately jumped in on top of him and joined the cocoon. He taught me how to throw a football and I realized I was actually pretty good. We all threw knives and hatchets at trees to try and make them stick. These guys made me feel accepted and honored and trusted. I had kaleidoscope eyes for the first time. I saw "Tony" in his element, I saw who he was beyond a story of a player, or someone who I didn't really trust from the get-go.

And when it was time to pack up camp and we scatted into three cars, I asked him if I could ride with him. He quickly agreed. I don't know if that pissed off his roommate that I had ridden up with, but I HAD to have a conversation with him that wasn't in front of his friends. In the car we weren't even fully out of the campsite before I looked over and told him I really wished he didn't have a girlfriend. He said, "I know." I told him I had been thinking about him all night and couldn't even fall asleep until after 3am. I wanted to crawl into his tent but knew that would be a bad idea.

We had subtly flirted but no more than could probably even be recognized by his three closest friends... I felt the chemical attraction to him again, only this time, it was as if a veil had been lifted off my eyes and I saw who he really was. Part of what kept me thrashing around in my tent for hours was the weed... my active swirling thoughts that wouldn't shut off, and the thought and realization that I was actually in love with this person. How had I never realized this before?

Back to the car-- I turned to Tony and told him that I liked him. A lot. I liked everything about him- his music, his style, his sense of humor, who he WAS. I asked all kinds of questions. Why had we never dated? Why was the timing off always, what the fuck!?
He chuckled a lot because I was so blunt I think I made him uncomfortable.
I told him I wanted to touch him so badly. I told him that he made my stomach hurt, in a good way. I asked him to hold my hand (friends can hold hands, right?) He was surprised at my request and got weird about it so I kind of pushed his half-ass offered hand back at him.

At some point his hand found its way to me again, and I brushed up against his arm. I would touch him in any platonic way I could, starving for his touch. His hand sat on my thigh and he squeezed it repetitiously, I grasped his wrist both preventing him from moving his hand anywhere neither of us could be able to resist this feeling anymore, and so I could hold onto him. I was literally drooling. I had to take deep breaths to keep my head from spinning.
I wondered aloud how compatible we were, and I said we'd either get along great, or fight. But if we fought, then we'd just fuck after, and it'd be amazing. I actually said that out loud. I don't know what mind I was in.
He did admit a few things, but I realize now that sometimes it's just a strong desire for sex and women can easily thread emotion into that.  I asked him if he liked me too, and he said he did. He said he also wanted to come to my tent but wasn't sure which tent was mine, and then the whole girlfriend thing. He said he wanted to grab my butt all weekend. I said he should have. But then I said it was good that he didn't. Our conversation went on like this. Teasing and imagining how great it would be if we could just cave in to this long awaited desire.

I haven't felt this way about anyone in a long time. I just don't even find most guys that attractive in the first place, and if there's chemical chemistry, it's on. Or at least it should be. And of course, just like 4 years ago, he's not unattached. Which is sort of a pattern with this guy. I don't think he stays single for very long. He's Tom Selleck in Magnum PI. He's soft spoken and doesn't need to be the center of attention, but can easily do something ridiculous like throw on a full body Sasquatch costume and come out in the dark to try and scare everyone after day drinking and eating drugs. He finds the coolest pieces of clothing at Goodwill. He knows how to have fun. He is the fun.

And tonight he told me simply, "I like the girl that I'm dating and it's just not good timing." She lives in LA. I don't think they've been dating for longer than a month. It's super disappointing. I felt a tiny pin-prick of my heart, and the subsequent deflation.
From what he said, it's hard not to hear she's better than me or prettier or more interesting...
but really it's just, I'm already invested in something. I want to see where it goes.
And I realize it's ethical of him to tell me this now, so that I don't hold onto hope that he changes his mind and realizes what's being presented right in front of him, already in Oregon, already in love with him... me.

Timing is fucking everything. And this is "what is true."

No half-steppin

Ok, start reading this post by opening this song for some “entry theme music.” I tried to find a link to this other Ugandan song that I cannot get out of my head. Ever. But it's not on the Internetz.  However, this one is another moderately addictive goodie to really put you in the Ugandan moment.

Now… onto dating. Uganda-style. Or something like it. 

My first date happened like this.

I met this guy at DePosh, which is a place that is about as classy as it’s name. Envision first a huge tree in the front entry, in the middle of a tiled open area with plastic chairs and metal tables. On this tree are hanging strobe light things that would hypnotize into stupidity anyone on mushrooms. You pass below the crazy tree light spectacle and enter a world of “twisting” bodies, a fair amount of body odor, and “local girls,” which is a nicer way to refer to prostitutes.  DePosh is in Kabalagala, a neighborhood of Kampala where the first Ugandan pub opened many years ago, and the whole nightlife scene originated thereafter. Kabalagala is fairly run-down, which gives it personality, and it's now more like the red-light district of Uganda. You should also be fairly sure that you will be pick-pocketed if you’re a muzungu, or carrying your money anywhere other than shoved into your underwear (even then, I’m not sure it’s safe—I’ve heard stories of girls whose bras were stolen from under their shirts without their knowledge. Personally I think it’s an urban-underwear-myth.)  Anyway, DePosh gets crazy-crowded, and you will probably be groped at some point, by either and both sexes, and people start tripping all over themselves anytime around 3am and if you stay ‘til 6, things really get interesting, or sad, depending on the night.

Update: a picture of the crazy tree! taken super high-quality-drive-by-iPhone-out-of-car-style:

So by “met,” I mean, two guys grabbed my arms as I was leaving the DePosh bathroom a few weeks ago and encircled me—then one shooed off his two friends who had helped corral me like some filly, and we started talking. He had the unfortunate name of Shon. If you know me, you know why this is an unfortunate name for a Ugandan boy that is hitting on me to have. I thought it was slightly ironically hilarious, however, (I’m sure the 4+ beers helped.) He seemed relatively normal and attractive (again, I’m sure the 4+ beers helped,) and I gave him my number. We chatted a bit, then I returned to the group I was with.

Two days later he calls, invites me to come to Kibuli, an area of town near Kabalagala, to meet up with him

Let me also diverge for a moment and clarify that phones here are prepaid—you have to buy little codes for anywhere from 500 to 10000 UGX and punch in like 50 numbers to load credit onto your phone. The calls are ridiculously overpriced, unless it is network to network, which is difficult, since there are like 6 main networks here. So many locals have like 3 phone numbers on different Sim cards with different providers. As a result, and using my already clipped and simplified English I have adapted to using with locals, phone calls are direct, to the point, and typically under 2 minutes.

My phone call with Shon went something like this (forgive me for making him sound like an idiot):

     him: “Hey, you goin' come round to my side?”

     me: “Yeah, so I’ll head over to Kibuli. Where am I going?”

     him: “Come to Kibuli”

     me: “Yeah, ok Kibuli, but where exactly am I headed?”

     him: “Come to Kibuli.”

     me: Laughing at this point, “Kibuli, yes, but where should I meet you!?”

     him: “Kibuli”

I gave up. I told my boda guy to take me to Kibuli. Then when we got to Kibuli, and I realized I was out of airtime on my phone, and I had no idea how to find this guy… so I loaded up at a mobile point, and called him, finally agreeing on a location, the Shell station.

The fun was just starting at the gas station, because he showed up minutes later and we walked down a dirt road behind the building, into the dark (the power was out in the area during that time), and I made some sarcastic comment about him just leading me blindly into the slums in the dark.  Which I later found out offended him, as it seemed I was implying I wasn’t safe with him (which of course he would protect me from any foreseeable harm within or outside of the slums with his superior strength and sparring skills.) Turns out, he was actually just taking me to his house. Correction--his mother’s house. I  walked through the iron entry gate to be immediately met by his aunt, mother and little brother in the dark driveway, and then was left in the living room to make small talk with the ladies, while Shon wandered off doing God-knows-what. It was incredibly awkward and uncomfortable and hilarious. His mother’s English seemed a bit limited, as our conversation kind of just circled around “how are you?” and “how is work?” that sort of thing. The aunt saved the day, as she was more of a talker, and kept the banter going for the next long 16 minutes.  I complimented their house, complimented the aunt's sparkling gold bracelet, asking questions about where to buy that kind of jewelry, what type of work she did, where she stays, etc., until Shon reappeared and grabbed my hand and led me to his room. In his room a different younger brother was sitting on one of the beds, and Shon and I sat on the other, in the “romantic” candlelight (remember, no power) and we all made small talk. Actually the brother didn’t really talk, except occasionally in Luganda to Shon.  A girl showed up at one point and sat next to the brother on the other bed, and when they left I found out she was Shon’s ex-girlfriend who was now dating his brother. (Sharing is caring?)  We just sat on the bed, talking about whatever, drinking Coca-Cola’s.

His aunt came in with a water pitcher, plastic tub and towel for me to wash my hands without having to leave the room, and his mom made us each an enormous piece of fried chicken and French fries. All this fanfare was uncomfortable, but I tried to accept it somewhat graciously.  Apparently it is a pretty big deal for their son to have some random muzungu coming home for dinner (which I did unaware.) Before his aunt left later in the evening, she came back into the room and snapped her sparkly bracelet onto my wrist, despite my protesting, declaring “It’s yours.”

I really liked the bracelet, it’s way too loud and gaudy—just my style of jewelry. When recounting the story to my roommate later, she recommended actually being careful about complimenting clothing or items on a Ugandan (if just trying to be nice,) as that person may end up giving you the complimented item. Many Ugandans have very little, but in order to make a guest feel welcome, they will give you the shirt off of their back. Literally.

So, all and all, a pretty epic first date. Wandering into a new part of town by motorbike without directions, to find a guy I don’t know, strolling down dark dirt roads into dark houses to meet the fam, eat fried chicken dinner, and converse by un-optional candlelight.

Then hop a late-night motorbike road back home to my 'hood, Viet-Namuwongo.