Men

September 2010

There are so many good men in the world. I know everyone keeps saying there just aren't, but on the contrary, I am blessed with many good men in my little life. Men who send postcards with pictures of us stuck to them, men who give me hot chocolate making appliances and boxes of powder, men who suggest new albums, men who stop their cars as I walk by--sweating from a late night run--wanting me to know they say "hello," men who do improv, men who try, men who invite me over for tea, men who ask for copies of my work, men who did high school policy debate, men who are shy and lovingly silent.

I met a man last week who was a fast friend. We bonded in a matter of ten minutes about Japanese culture, professional improv, the city, the suburbs, script-writing. It was wild. But, you know, how do you say in a loud bar, "No. I know where you think this is going, and I know I have no ring, but this isn't it for you" besides, of course, denying his drink offer.

I want to keep these men. All of these men. I love these men for being good despite the rumors. And, I do want to keep meeting more--more Japan/performing/funny enthusiasts. I wonder if they are notes from God reminding me that if something happens and Kay is no more, there's always more. Or, if the men will increase a millionfold--the most difficult test of loyalty.

Today I can think of nothing else besides the kind of man who spent the day judging a speech tournament with me, who is impressed with all the right things, who loves baseball and soup, who held my hand in a haunted forest, who drove with conviction and sunglasses, who is just feet away as I type. Unaware.

We were just kids when I first kissed you in the attic of my parent's house, and I wish we were there now.