Doughnuts & Ghosts

Where do I find myself on a perfectly gorgeous late spring evening in Seattle? An intense hour of yoga followed by camping out at a beautiful, park side cafe a few blocks from my Capitol Hill bachelor pad with a hearty thirst for some comforting chamomile tea and the written word.

Not sure whether it's the cloudy weather, but I've been struggling with self motivation professionally as well as creatively in recent days. Though lately I've been leaning more toward having some gusto for the creative, so at least something gives.

Today is the first Friday in June, which also marks National Doughnut Day. Really. According to sources I found online, this day honors the women who served doughnuts to soldiers on the front lines of World War I. Apparently the very name for this beloved American edible was derived from the men of the armed services as these fried morsels were often cooked up in their helmets. The American troops of that era were referred to as "doughboys." Clearly the name stuck as well as this sweet treat. Though where does the "nut" in doughnut come from? Perhaps back in the day they thought it was nuts to be frying up dough in the trenches under the shower of enemy shells and small arms fire.

My dearest Snow and I observed this day by meeting up in the mid afternoon at Top Pot Doughnuts on Fifth Avenue in Belltown to enjoy a hot beverage, one of their artfully tasty, doughy treats and friendly conversation. Though admittedly I don't believe either of us were fully aware of the real significance this alleged holiday marks when we cemented our plans to meet. Oh well.

I told Snow of my recent dating woes, specifically about the wookie, who I really liked. However, over the past week or so he has taken a turn toward inexplicable insecurity. I'm not quite sure where this started coming from. Snow believes he really likes me and is just afraid of getting hurt, so he's acting out of fear. Hmmm, that sounds all too familiar. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's exactly what drove him, my catalyst for leaving my seven year relationship, to employ the "push me pull you" bit, which eventually disintegrated one of the greatest loves I've ever known in my life. I'm certainly not venturing down that road again.

Last night, aboard friends' boat, the Red Herring, on Seattle's Lake Union, my dear friend Bay Bay informed me he had had a run in with him last Saturday night. Bay Bay and his partner were just exiting one of Capitol Hill's few remaining gay watering holes when they ran into him out on the sidewalk. He approached them both in a very excited manner, exclaiming their names and giving them both big hugs, as though they were dear old friends who had at long last been reunited. He says to Bay Bay, "I sense that you're holding back." To which Bay Bay replied, "You're very intuitive." I'm also told he looked like a big, drunken mess.

Just the weekend before, another one of my friends ran into him, out at the bars (perhaps the bars have become more than just a mere pass time for him). At first I was told my name didn't come up in conversation, and then later that he had referred to me by my full first name, something he once did to express endearment.

Both Snow and Bay Bay believe he's communicating with me through my friends, and this feels safe for him. All I know, as Snow also observed, he seems to keep popping up, especially as of late. Perhaps it's coincidence. Seattle is still a pretty small town. Maybe, just maybe, we'll come full circle someday soon.

I'm still in the same place I was the last couple times I wrote about this topic, wanting only to make peace with him and that which suddenly tore our love apart, which was seemingly too short lived. Despite knowing I deserve so much more from a lover than what he became incapable of, traces of him still linger on my mind and in my heart.

Snow opined that he's afraid to face me because I am the one person who knows and can see all his weaknesses. She asked me what I would do if by chance he were to actually come around and want to make a genuine go of it. I hate to admit it, but this is a question I asked myself as recently as this morning. Would I be willing to take another chance? Would I be willing to take the ultimate risk for what may or may not be? I'm not sure. What I do know is when things unraveled with him, part of me died inside. It took me months and months to rebound from that. Nearly a year and a half later, I'm still not the same person with respect to how I live and love. Though that might have changed regardless. Who's to say. Doh! I must be nuts for even having these notions. Or perhaps better yet I may just be human.

With every passing day I fall deeper into myself, hopefully getting that much closer to being more like the person I always knew myself to be. I wear these romantic wounds and their subsequent scars like a badge of honor. Just like fashion, love is for the brave. Love is truly the only thing in life worth fighting for. What else would humankind have to live for? What else is there beyond our hearts' greatest desires?!

Snow also reminded me of another love of romance past, my ex of seven years. Snow's hubby ran into him several weeks (if not months) ago while out on patrol. My ex readily confessed that he missed the way things used to be; missed our home, our dearly departed dog and me ... I miss him and much of our old lives too, but he left me long before I physically left him. Apparently my friend Scotty also ran into him just this past Sunday. The first thing he told Scotty was about the fact we broke up as though it had just happened yesterday and not nearly two years ago.

Sometimes I too long for the good ol' days, when life was more comforting, more predictable. Then again, it's the journey and surprises one finds along one's path that maintains a youthful spirit and a profound appreciation for life's many gifts as well as one's achievements.

After I left the busy cafe, I took an evening stroll down Broadway. It was a mostly clear night with a sliver of moon similing at me from high above. The air smelled fresh and clean after a day of showers intermittently rolled over the city. I noticed a certain calmness to Seattle tonight, which kept me at ease as well as feeling a strong sense of home.

Now that I am back home and in for the evening, I'm going to crawl into my nicely made bed with freshly washed linens. Then I'm going to pull the covers up over me, shut my eyes and allow myself to dream of all the wonderful things to come ...

Good night.