Open up your eyes

--Note: I didn't complete this blog post but decided to publish it anyway. I was planning to talk about the fact that this little scenario I described sounds great, but really it didn't end as well as I would have liked. The open up your eyes reference was to myself and perhaps maybe how I need to open up my own damn eyes about the actions I take in the search for love and feeling.

From Sunday May 10:

"Open up your eyes
Just open up your eyes
And give me love over this"

I decided today was a Coldplay sort of day. It started off rainy this morning and has turned into a lazy overcast Sunday. I just finished baking a cake and am waiting for a friend to stop by. Thankfully she's bringing the confectioners sugar which I will need for the frosting. That was the only thing I didn't have. The cake layers are cooling and I have to admit they look great. Hopefully they'll taste as good as they look. Earlier my neighbor came by and I made her breakfast.

I did not intend to pick up the British military guy at the pub. I didn't intend to even go to the pub but I was drawn there yesterday afternoon for some reason. I have been feeling restless lately, mostly due to not knowing what the hell I'm doing with my life (does anyone?). After I dropped my bicycle off for it's tune-up and tire swap, I decided to stop off to this British pub I like that's in the same strip mall. A scotch sounded heavenly so I dropped in for what I intended to be only one scotch and beer. I paid for the drinks rather than keep the tab open because I didn't want to get carried away. But well, I had good intentions but it just didn't work out that way. I decided to work on the blog post (refer to post made on 5/9 via cell phone/email) and have another round. I bummed a cigarette from the bartender and when I returned there was a couple sitting right next to my stool. I moved down one because I didn't want them to smell the smoke and eventually we struck up a conversation. Really great people, had a wonderful talk, told them about my upcoming triathlon (great way to train...drinking...ugh) and it was pleasant. I realized I had been lonely and so I really appreciated the discussion. Eventually they left to grab dinner at the Mexican restaurant next door. During the time we'd been talking, a rather non-descript guy in a military green jumpsuit, the kind with his name and rank had entered the bar. I was so caught up in my chat that I hadn't noticed. Now I noticed. He was sitting a seat away from me at the bar and I couldn't help but see the little British flag embroidered on the jumpsuit. I can't remember what I said to get the ball rolling but something was said. He was drinking beer, lots of it, and was quiet. Intense. Kinda haunted. But the accent was charming. I was intrigued. He was a bit hard to hear as he mumbled a little. We didn't talk much about his work but more about how he came to be here in the US, how much longer he had to serve, the fact that he worked a lot. He talked a lot actually and didn't ask me much about myself which might have been a sign but well, I'm a sucker for a British accent.

The evening continued. I bought him a beer, he bought me a beer, we smoked his cigarettes, and finally he said he needed a cab. I'd been nursing my drink by then. I said that I could give him a ride home if he wanted, that I was sober enough. After some thought, he finally agreed. So, after he grabbed something out of his car, I drove us to his place. During the drive, he apologized for his place saying it was messy. It was anything but that. Sure there were some dishes in the sink and maybe some papers around, but for the most part everything was in order, nicely decorated, and smelled of lavendar and vanilla, a scent I'm familiar with as I also have it in my home. The apartment was nice, very new, modern, oatmeal carpet, two bathrooms with huge tubs, nice kitchen, big balcony, nice master suite. Very nice. He offered me a beer and we listened to music for a while, chatting along the way, smoking some more. Nothing really happened for a while other than that so I was pretty sure it would be platonic, that maybe he wouldn't be one of those dudes who just wanted to sleep with me. It happened innocently enough. I was on the sofa waiting for him to come back in from smoking because by then it was 1AM and I was tired and not wanting to brave the cold for cigarettes which I'm not even supposed to be smoking in the first place. I moved my feet from the sofa so he could sit down and he just grabbed my feet and put them on his lap. He rested his arm against my legs and it felt nice. He suggested I stay the night, that he'd sleep on the sofa or that he'd be happy to call me a cab. It was at that point that I knew I'd sleep with him. I said that if he didn't have a problem with it, I'd share his bed with him.


We moved to the bedroom and still hadn't really touched each other, hadn't kissed. I took off my jeans and climbed into bed while he was in the bathroom. He finally removed the uniform. I'd suggested he change clothes and get comfy when we first got there but all he did was put on his slippers. Now, I watched him remove the uniform and noticed he took off everything. Everything. I don't know if he knew I was watching him. I almost felt as if I were spying on him.

He climbed into bed and turned to face me. I closed my eyes and in a few minutes he was caressing my hair and my arms and I knew he was making his move. I opened my eyes and looked into his and we kissed. It was nice. I'll leave the rest up to your imagination.