She’s aces back-to-back, hot as blazes, or boring as sin...

...And all in between, the traditional, the new and exciting, in other words, the one that has your heart.  Did you ever get a really good feeling that stayed?  A good feeling as in a romance, as in this one, good feeling from someone that might swoop back in forever.

The keeper, the one you cannot lose to some idiot.  She is the one that you contemplate a life together, and this brings you happiness.  Maybe she needed a lover, and fell for a fighter.  She married in haste, and has repented at leisure.

Could very well be that she is popular, but not stuck up.  Or you’ve found a woman with a heart of gold.  Maybe I am lucky, or somehow I’ve earned my reward, because this feeling I get lives on, and she is just down the road.  9/11/22.


Ya know, I’ve been thinking, and me and high school perfection chick may not be as good of a match as I originally thought.  In high school, Ms. Class Prez organized the town-wide friend-a-thon for the disabled, and made We Are Family, from Sister Sledge, the school song.  Every morning it was played during homeroom.

I organized the sophomore class bus trip to see Pink Floyd, The Animals Tour.  I worked to make Brain Damage the school song, because my crowd was hell-bent, oh-so-deeply into doing stuff they shouldn’t.  High schoolers today, where do you smoke weed during school?  I thought so.  Alcoholics Unanimous should have had a chapter in my alma mater.

Anyhow, Ms. Class Prez is probably holding an Emmy party tonight, because she’s always doing cute, sociable stuff.  I have never had an Oscar party, but I bet she even has SAG-AFTRA, Screen Actors Guild parties, any reason to be social with people she knows, or hardly knows.  She was always just a very sweet girl, into holding friend-a-thons.  She always looked out for other’s well being.

Honestly though, about the senior song being We Are Family: In part, this was because our grade had gotten rather divisive, with all the drug usage — most students used.  According to the University of Michigan’s Monitoring the Future study, one measuring drug abuse among seniors, the class year with the most drug-addled seniors was my own.

There’s a good reason for that.  We were the post-hippie, pre-yuppie, generation.  There wasn’t much with which to be hopeful or optimistic.  I knew two guys from school who got loaded, then racked up, totaled their cars, but survived.  Fast Times at Ridgemont High was a light-hearted romp, wasn’t it.

Our class had issues?  Well, yeah, what of it?  So be it, or so be it then, of that age, of that time.  9/12/22...


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Are you lonely tonight?  To have and to hold you, geez...

Hey, heart meltah!  Hey, nice Jewish girl (my Dad married one)!  I may, or may not, be worthy, but I am in love!  These l’affaires de coeur (matters of the heart), like water, seek their own natural level.

I do have my hopes, because after all, I found her twenty-year reunion leaflet in my desk, and put it in her mailbox as memento from her not-so-secret admirer (she chaired the reunion committee, of course).  This was twenty-three years after the fact.

Don’t the really hot ones get intimidating?  That is, until you know more about them, and then you’re like: She set herself up for a Lyin’ Eyes, loveless marriage with some soulless, rich guy.  He fell briefly for her looks.  They had a kid, or kids.  Now, they can hardly stand each other.  My Miss Cutie may have been suckered down that path.  9/03/22.


Of late, we have the usual jockeying for position.  I intimate that Heather Graham is warm to my Instagram form, that she wants Other action (is there a woman today who doesn’t want in with the Blog King?)

To wit, Council Prez, Class Cutie, and Winner, offers: “Geez, what happened to that sweet guy I knew of since I was eight?!  I had even met your folks at a fundraiser!  Are you getting a bit jaded, Mr. Letter, not to mention completely delusional?  Come home where you belong.”  8/20/22...

Then, SJP ups the ante: None other than Sarah Jessica Parker wrote that she “looked forward to my [Instagram] posts.”  At this point, most local chicks would bail, they cannot compete with Sex in the City for my attention.

Yet, I am not so sure that Class Prez got that memo, and may still have abiding interest.  It’s a bidding war for a blogger, folks!  Stand back!  Cat fight for a blogger!  Fur will fly!


Here’s a little, romantic poem I wrote that was published under my nom de plume, Wills Pierre:

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deal heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess’d,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

I wrote it for that charmer from way back, Miss I’m All That.  And well, indeed, she is all that, and then some.  I may lack “that man’s scope,” but kings do not have what I do, her show of kindness; and who knows, maybe one day, her love as well.

[This is The Bard’s, William Shakespierre’s Sonnet XXIX (29th).  I cannot tell a lie, like George Washington fessing up to chopping down a cherry tree (geez, of all things valued, for firewood?)  Gwynnie’s husband is reason to believe that I do have a future as a writer, Shakespierre is ample proof that I don’t.]  9/1/22.


Eh, why not?  Here goes.  My postal cupid put a bar mitzvah invite from senior class, El Presidente in my mailbox during her rounds.  It was from my infatuation, not addressed to me, but from Lil’ Missus Cute, with a return address, one without her married name, but her maiden name.  Admittedly, I had never been close with her, but she was always on my radar (and hopefully, she had a place in her heart for me).

Prospects do thin as one ages, so I put together a sweet (okay, very sweet) note, which I even asked someone to edit.  I did some sneaky detective work, and she was recently still married, yet this invitation was evidence that she wasn’t anymore.  She may have been on the rebound.

So sad to say, but I never got a reply of any kind.  However, I would drive by her house, and have snippets of conversation, brief messages intimated.  My heart was broken in two, and still is, but somehow I maintain a belief that she may really have feelings for me, and ones since I was just a boy.

I really get the sense that she’s on my side.  Maybe this is all wishful thinking, or maybe it is the start of something big, time-tested, honoring the newer and the long past.  8/09/22.


A little advice I have for seekers of romance: Sincerely complimenting, and appreciating, someone familiar is very rarely met with rejection.  (I took Dale Carnegie’s course, How to Win Friends and Influence People.  They get partial credit for that one.)  People love to be flattered.  They want to know they do something well; even so much as wisely buying something with taste, utility, and/or a measure of frugality.  Showing respect pays dividends.  Ashley Judd wants to keep me around, because I’m so sweet on her.  8/09/22.


I drive by her house, so situated that I do so, on average, twice daily.  I put in my bid: “I am a good guy; and I just got a nice inheritance.”

To wit, as a typical woman, she had this to say: “Whoa doggie!  Wait one second.  Roll that back to ‘nice inheritance.’  I need to know how nice — just for gossip and vetting purposes, of course.”  8/11/22.


I have my first date already planned with Ms. All-that, Senior Class, Student Council Prez.  I will make her supper with scallops, coated in Japanese Panko bread crumbs, and sautéed in plenty of butter (less decadent olive oil for later), along with deli potato salad and cole slaw.  In honor of my Dad’s diet, I will have chocolate milk.  There must be chocolate milk.  Will it be pre-fab, or milk mixed with Nestlé Quik?  That will be my surprise, and the subject of some debate.

(If she wants to be extravagant, and do more preparation, then she should bring to our date her own cocoa, and granulated sugar.  Hmm, maple syrup can always substitute for white sugar, yes?  How about maple sugar in chocolate milk preparation?  Hopefully, Ms. Prez appreciates our neighbors to the North, as well as the fact that maple syrup exports are as profitable to Canada, as Brent crude oil is to Saudi Arabia.  Hence, the Canadian flag is a maple leaf.)

Then, of course, is the obligatory tour of this techie, and audiophile, paradise that I call home.  How do I digitize vinyl long-playing albums (LPs) with Audacity, and rip CDs into MP3s with iTunes?  She will likely bring a notebook so she doesn’t forget anything.  I may demand sexual favors for refresher lessons.  We’ll have to see.  (I kid, I want to please her, not hurt her.)  It will all be wonderful!  Ah, yes!  I cannot wait!  8/11/22...


What is finer, more pleasurable, or healing to the soul, than being in love?  One cannot ask for anything more validating: Another believes you are really a good person, that you pass their test for companionship, and for romance.  Class Prez chick may be the one at long last for me.  I dunno, but my fingers are crossed.  8/25/22.


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