Dear Diary


Visited my GP yesterday for the three-monthly check-up.

126/75.  Woot!  The doctor sez he can’t figure out what it is, but I must be doing something right.

Grazing on dried fruits and nuts, portion control, low fat and carbohydrate intake, and moderate exercise.  Now that the weather has warmed the latter is not so onerous.  I was even climbing in and out of the creek the other day without pain or discomfort.   Still getting plenty of sleep, though it is interrupted by a couple or more bladder breaks each night.   I do like a bedtime chai latte.  The loo breaks are almost welcome though, because my sleep is plagued by dreams that tend more to be nightmarish than pleasant.  It feels good to get up and walk away from them.

I still feel the depression lurking,  a vicious black dog ready to leap and worry me by the throat whenever suddenly empowered by some old song,  or a long forgotten recently resurrected photograph.  So I guess it is not yet time to stop taking the pills that keep him chained.  I  shared this opinion with the doc and he concurred.

I have been writing regularly. I now have several unfinished pieces saved on the hard drive, but nothing for the blog.  I am beginning to wonder if I really have it in me.

Change the subject.  News:

Not long ago, the first time in over three years, I kissed a woman.

Well… she kissed me.  I was at a party/barbecue and, as it happened, I was the only sober person present, sipping on lemon, lime and bitters while everyone else got merrier and merrier.   I don’t drink much anyway, but certainly not when I have to drive.   She plainly took a fancy to me. She demanded I dance with her, and as we danced said she thought I was “cute”.  Flattering, though not an adjective I would apply to myself.  I told her I thought she was very attractive.  Which I did, and she was.  She was very attractive indeed.  I felt stirrings I have not experienced for a very long time.  I managed to dance without being too clumsy.

Then she rather surprisingly kissed me.  It took me aback.  The kiss was sensual and pleasant, and of course I found it erotic.  She kissed me again, then looked at me expectantly.  I knew what she was waiting for.  This was the moment to suggest we split this scene and head back to my place.  But she was well and truly inebriated, and I was not.  A gentleman does not take advantage of a lady in such circumstances.  She might not find me quite so cute when she wakes up with a hangover to find me snoring beside her.  I could imagine her thinking “What the hell have I done?”  Besides, I was not sure how I would handle the morning-after scene myself.  We had after all just met and I barely remembered her first name.  So despite her continued advances I gently and politely extricated myself and fled.  I am no teenager, but I was just as confused as ever I was so long ago.  All I knew was that this could go either very well indeed, or very very wrong.  In the end I decided that with the black dog barely under control, this was not the time to start a relationship or even to have a fling.   In the cold light of dawn I knew I had made the right call.  I can’t say I am pleased about it.


About Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
This entry was posted in Autobiography, dancing, Depression, fires and disasters, Health and wellness, Life, don't talk to me about life!, Lifestyle, News and politics, Non-Events, opinion, Philosophy, Political Correctness, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to TMI2

  1. dayvebutler says:

    Baby steps mate. At least the opportunity was there, take heart from that.


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