verge (vʉrj)
the edge, brink, or margin (of something): also used figuratively the verge of the forest, on the verge of hysteria

to tend or incline (to or toward)
to be in the process of change or transition into something else; pass gradually (into) dawn verging into daylight

Saturday, November 14, 2009

My Love Life

Seems like now is just as good of a time as any to talk about my love life.  It might appear to some that I don't have one, or whatever one I have is a mystery. I can tell this by the way people address me. I got an invitation last week addressed to Alice and Guest.  Use of the word Guest implies an unknown.  It comes off as a subtle question mark. Depending on my mood, I wince or preen as I translate it:

a) Alice and (probably can't find a) Guest:  you poor, old, lonely, aging 50-ish thing
b) Alice and (skip the) Guest: hot tickets don't need any embellishment
c)Alice and (who's her lucky) Guest: picked from the throngs of admirers
d) Alice and (please bring a) Guest(so the place settings will be balanced): we're looking for balance

So at the risk of breaking all kinds of hearts, I'm going to share all about my love life right here and right now.  Uncensored and in graphic detail. Send the kids out to play.  Probably going to earn myself an R rating.

I have a sizzling love life. Well, I sort of have a love life. Ok, it's not exactly a love life. It's a life, and it has love.  But....

Here's the thing.  I got to thinking about things today because I had a date with my DBF (dog boyfriend) Tucker. We wandered down to Mayfield where we spent much of August, and we sat on our favorite bench overlooking Gibbet Hill.  We like to sit on this bench together, he and I, and we whisper things to each other.  He takes everything I say so seriously.  And he sits very close to me, as if together we make up the whole entire universe.  He's a very manly guy, but he also has this very sensitive side.  If Goldens could play the guitar, he'd be playing it and singing words that he wrote, wrote just for me. He always loves to dance as we head home. I hadn't seen him in a few days and it was like summer again as we wandered down Mayfield.  There's no expiration date here.

But as much as I love him, later that day I had a thought about our relationship.  Tucker's always going to be my DBF.  Forever and ever. But I, I am a G. Tucker's a D.  G=girl.  D=dog. Do you see where I'm going with this? It doesn't quite work out, does it?  And more to the point, while I know he loves me back, it's not as his GF (gasp).  All I'll ever be is his DWGF (dog walker girl friend).  What I'm trying to break to you is that it's never going to be any more than it already is.  I had to say it out loud to him.  He knew it too, and after silent but accepting nods, it became a poignant moment for us both.

But I have all kinds of other dawgs who put the love in my life--my student dawgs, my family dawgs, my college dawgs, my dog dawgs, and my Tuesday night dawgs.  And the love flows in all these places.  I have an abundance of love in my life and it comes gushing like a river.  Each day, I get to ride its current, and I know it. It is indeed a love life.

But I am also still a G.  And I am in need of a Guest of the a) 50-ish and single, b) independent, c) admiring, and d) balanced type (see a through d above).  Manly two-leggeds who perhaps play the guitar, love to walk and dance, listen very closely, and can speak with their eyes will be invited.


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