It's this moment before...where we can't take anymore and tear into each other with unbridled passion and intensity. This breathless moment, so awkward and unknown, where our hearts race and our muscles tense and relax without input or control...it's this moment before that's tearing us apart, yet keeps us firmly in place, with selfish intent to move forward.
I can't stand this second because all I want is you, and this moment seems like eternity as we stand in front of each other searching, wanting so much for this next chapter to happen, yet unsure where to start. My insides are clawing their way out of me, screaming for me to touch you, and take you, and give you everything that I am...yet at this moment all I can do is search for breath and shiver in anticipation.
It's this moment that I find so delicious...the knowing look of whats to come, the breathless anticipation that urges me towards you but makes me wonder whats to come once we have finished this next journey. It's this moment before with you that I have always longed for and feared...It's this moment before we take from one another with reckless abandon, and give in...
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Friday, January 6, 2012
Dirty, Hot, Naughty, Sexy Talk (for married people)
Being a husband for 18 years, I’ve developed a few different techniques that I would love to share to maximize your pleasure, and increase happiness in your home. This writing is mostly for men, to be used as a case study in order to figure out the easiest way to please your wife and leave her exhausted…yet wanting more. Now it’s not easy in our home to consistently bring my wife to a state of ecstasy, especially since we are both working parents. But one technique I’ve found is something you can use immediately and get results. Now let’s be adult about this because it’s a very intimate moment, shared between consenting adults, and on my day off. It’s married people phone sex. Ladies…pull over if you are in the car, or sit down, this gets intense:
Me: Hey Baby! Got a moment?
Wife: Sure what’s up?
Me: Ya know what I just did while thinking of you?
Wife: (mildly scared) Do I want to know?
Me: I just took down the Christmas lights, real slow…and rolled them up nice and tight. Just the way you like…
Wife: Oh my…that’s kind of hot. Thank you…
Me: (slowly whispering words while breathing deeply). You know what I’m doing right now?
Wife: No baby. Tell me…
Me: I’m doing the dishes, nice and slow. Slowly scrubbing them before putting them in the dish washer. (Deep sigh) Do you like that baby?
Wife: (whispering) Oh My God! You know I love it when you do that. Are you using a clean sponge?
Me: You know I am…
Wife: Because there was nothing wrong with the other one.
Me: I want this to be special baby…and all about you. Let me do all the work. (I lied I couldn’t find a clean sponge)
Wife: Oh my… (Panting). Are you using a lot of Palmolive?
Me: I got it everywhere…it smells like a lemon tree orgy up in here.
Wife: You aren’t making a mess are you?
Me: FOCUS LADY! Oh I’m making mess baby…but you know what I’m going to do after I finish? (Grunting) I’m going to clean up after myself.
Wife: Oh My Freaking God you are driving me crazy! Don’t you dare finish yet! Don’t leave me hanging…tell me more
Me: I’m even going to use the Normal Wash Cycle to save water baby, I know you love it when it I do that.
Wife: No! OMG please use the Heavy Wash Button…Please use it…Don’t stop
Me: (deep growling voice) There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I’m pushing it right now!
Wife: This isn’t fair…you’re already done…DON”T LEAVE ME HANGING! (I typically finish before her)
Fellas…this is where as a man you have to step up to the plate! No matter how tired you are, no matter how high the mountain is you are faced to climb, don’t be selfish! GET IT DONE AND BE THE MAN!!!
Me: You think I’m done with you? I told you there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. You know what I’m going to do next?
Wife: OMG tell me right now!
Me: I’m going to start the laundry.
Wife: Holy Mother of God!!! Don’t Stop!!!
Me: (growling with teeth gritted) I even separated the whites from colors.
Wife: OH MY GAAAAWWWWDDDDD!
Me: (yeah that’s what I’m talking about). You okay baby?
Wife: (silence at first then deep breaths) Just give me a second to recover…I’ll call you back.
I sit back with a grin on my face and lower the phone. Ladies and Gentleman: That’s how it’s done and that’s how I roll. God I kick ass!
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Matt Greer Inc. would like to categorically state that this is a fictional writing and “The Wife” should not be embarrassed in any way or be pissed. Matt Greer Inc. also believes that Matt Greer (our client) should not be punished or held liable for his creativity, nor should he face any long term time spent on the couch. If anything, Matt Greer (our client) should be rewarded for actually doing the work mentioned above. Matt Greer Inc. truly believes Matt Greer should get a steak.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Adventures with Zumba...
I go to the gym and I really don’t enjoy it. In an effort to fight the effects of aging, I decided a while back ago it was time to do something about it. Now I have seen results, and I appreciate myself for the effort, don’t get me wrong. However, I wouldn’t call my version of working out exactly healthy. Keep in mind, I am probably the only person you will see putting out a cigarette as I enter the gym, and lighting one the second I walk out. My body type would best be described as skinny/ fat. In clothes I appear to be relatively skinny, however when I’m naked, I’m very much built like a milk dud. You know the last milk dud at the bottom of the box that’s melted and refuses to come loose until you rip open the box to get it? Yeah that’s me. Rather than think of myself as chunky, I prefer to think of myself as over-inflated with love and understanding. If you are flabby I think of you as under-inflated with appreciation. Of course if you are in perfect shape, with very low body fat, and you eat the perfect diet…you’re a complete dick.
I chose Zumba as a break from the monotony of going to the gym. I love Latin music and I have noticed that everyone that walks out of the class is sweating profusely. Lifting weights and doing cardio on a machine just gets completely boring. Also, I’m unsure what it is about the motion on an elliptical machine that stirs up my insides, but eventually I’m going to fart. I’m not proud of that at all, trust me. So Zumba literally seemed like a great way to mix it up a little, and a chance to enjoy the view. As a 40 year old, the thought of being in a class full of sweaty housewives, shaking their butts is just a bit more than enticing, it’s a dream come true. My first class was way more than I could have ever imagined, and now I wish someone would have warned me.
First of all, I can shake my ass like a madman and, believe it or not, I have incredible rhythm. I thought the class would be easy and I smiled as all the housewives piled into the studio. As I had predicted, I was the only guy in the class and I was excited to show the ladies what this man is made of. Then the instructor walked in and all my excitement turned to absolute fear. She was built, okay that’s an understatement, actually she was molded by God himself and put on this earth to make men quiver in her presence. Standing at a commanding 5 foot and an inch or so, she had a smile that said, “I’m going to make you remember this.” I was instantly worried.
The music started and all the ladies assumed their positions in an orderly fashion, as I imagined they probably picked the very same spot to stand in every class they attended. I was positioned in the back row so I wouldn’t discourage anyone early on if they couldn’t keep up. One minute in, and the overwhelming thought that hit me was “God, I’m really good at this!” The steps were easy to follow and I was tearing it up. By minute 5, I was so exhausted that I literally started lactating. It really felt like my boobs were leaking some secret sauce that only Zumba can extract. That’s when I felt my taint. Now normally your taint is a very lonely place on your body. It’s hard to shave, rarely thought of, and generally over looked in the long run. I now have a commanding respect for my taint. Once you stretch and pull it, you’ll never forget it. It very much felt like I was sitting on a campfire.
Within 15 minutes I was limping out of class, with my chafed leaky nipples, my stretched taint, and my pride dragging on the floor behind me. Lying down on a bench in the men’s locker room was probably not my best idea. I’m unsure why but my gyms locker room seems like a great place for naked men to stand around and talk. Whenever I walk in, I always exclaim out loud, “Smells like sex in here,” and then laugh to myself. It’s much like a gay buffet. So many choices and I’m certain you can get a little of everything if you were inclined. Bring a bib because I’m certain it gets messy in there. Anyway, within minutes of lying there, Frederick (he is a gentleman and introduced himself) approaches me and asks me if I’m okay. I open my eyes and right next to my face is hanging the largest penis I have ever seen in my life. I thought I was dizzy at first, but actually the reason my eyes were crossed was because this gigantic appendage was right in my face. Look guys, this is just a side note, I don’t mind you hanging out naked and enjoying one another’s company, but do you all have to be hung like horses? Seriously, I would be proud as well if I was sporting an elephant trunk, capable of picking up and moving fallen trees. However, sending the rest of us home bitter and resentful of our family genes is a bit much. Whatever, I’m not bitter (fuckers).
Now, I absolutely love Zumba. I highly recommend it and I try to attend at least one class a week. I’m committed to practicing at night, and tonight will be my first foray into the solo practice of “The Forbidden Dance.” I drain my fifth glass of wine as I search for my IPod Shuffle (yep, I’m old school), and realize once I find it that the only music that I have stored that can possibly inspire me to take on this adventure is the soundtrack from “The Man From La Mancha.” No I won’t explain or elaborate why I have this stored… (That space intentionally left blank).
I immediately head for the medicine cabinet as I know I will need to prepare for this undertaking. I’m rubbing Neosporin on my nipples and sensitive taint. I’m not making that mistake again. Respect your nipples and taint. I’m in my boxers and flip flops and clip my IPod to my left nipple to secure it (that’s how I roll). Incidentally, the engineers at Apple put a lot of thought into that clip, so be prepared, it’s not for amateurs.
Tonight I will dance as I never have. I begin without hesitation, as my nipple has already turned the same color as my purple wine stained tongue. IPod clips are no joke. So I begin my dance…God, I’m really good at this…
Matt Greer
I chose Zumba as a break from the monotony of going to the gym. I love Latin music and I have noticed that everyone that walks out of the class is sweating profusely. Lifting weights and doing cardio on a machine just gets completely boring. Also, I’m unsure what it is about the motion on an elliptical machine that stirs up my insides, but eventually I’m going to fart. I’m not proud of that at all, trust me. So Zumba literally seemed like a great way to mix it up a little, and a chance to enjoy the view. As a 40 year old, the thought of being in a class full of sweaty housewives, shaking their butts is just a bit more than enticing, it’s a dream come true. My first class was way more than I could have ever imagined, and now I wish someone would have warned me.
First of all, I can shake my ass like a madman and, believe it or not, I have incredible rhythm. I thought the class would be easy and I smiled as all the housewives piled into the studio. As I had predicted, I was the only guy in the class and I was excited to show the ladies what this man is made of. Then the instructor walked in and all my excitement turned to absolute fear. She was built, okay that’s an understatement, actually she was molded by God himself and put on this earth to make men quiver in her presence. Standing at a commanding 5 foot and an inch or so, she had a smile that said, “I’m going to make you remember this.” I was instantly worried.
The music started and all the ladies assumed their positions in an orderly fashion, as I imagined they probably picked the very same spot to stand in every class they attended. I was positioned in the back row so I wouldn’t discourage anyone early on if they couldn’t keep up. One minute in, and the overwhelming thought that hit me was “God, I’m really good at this!” The steps were easy to follow and I was tearing it up. By minute 5, I was so exhausted that I literally started lactating. It really felt like my boobs were leaking some secret sauce that only Zumba can extract. That’s when I felt my taint. Now normally your taint is a very lonely place on your body. It’s hard to shave, rarely thought of, and generally over looked in the long run. I now have a commanding respect for my taint. Once you stretch and pull it, you’ll never forget it. It very much felt like I was sitting on a campfire.
Within 15 minutes I was limping out of class, with my chafed leaky nipples, my stretched taint, and my pride dragging on the floor behind me. Lying down on a bench in the men’s locker room was probably not my best idea. I’m unsure why but my gyms locker room seems like a great place for naked men to stand around and talk. Whenever I walk in, I always exclaim out loud, “Smells like sex in here,” and then laugh to myself. It’s much like a gay buffet. So many choices and I’m certain you can get a little of everything if you were inclined. Bring a bib because I’m certain it gets messy in there. Anyway, within minutes of lying there, Frederick (he is a gentleman and introduced himself) approaches me and asks me if I’m okay. I open my eyes and right next to my face is hanging the largest penis I have ever seen in my life. I thought I was dizzy at first, but actually the reason my eyes were crossed was because this gigantic appendage was right in my face. Look guys, this is just a side note, I don’t mind you hanging out naked and enjoying one another’s company, but do you all have to be hung like horses? Seriously, I would be proud as well if I was sporting an elephant trunk, capable of picking up and moving fallen trees. However, sending the rest of us home bitter and resentful of our family genes is a bit much. Whatever, I’m not bitter (fuckers).
Now, I absolutely love Zumba. I highly recommend it and I try to attend at least one class a week. I’m committed to practicing at night, and tonight will be my first foray into the solo practice of “The Forbidden Dance.” I drain my fifth glass of wine as I search for my IPod Shuffle (yep, I’m old school), and realize once I find it that the only music that I have stored that can possibly inspire me to take on this adventure is the soundtrack from “The Man From La Mancha.” No I won’t explain or elaborate why I have this stored… (That space intentionally left blank).
I immediately head for the medicine cabinet as I know I will need to prepare for this undertaking. I’m rubbing Neosporin on my nipples and sensitive taint. I’m not making that mistake again. Respect your nipples and taint. I’m in my boxers and flip flops and clip my IPod to my left nipple to secure it (that’s how I roll). Incidentally, the engineers at Apple put a lot of thought into that clip, so be prepared, it’s not for amateurs.
Tonight I will dance as I never have. I begin without hesitation, as my nipple has already turned the same color as my purple wine stained tongue. IPod clips are no joke. So I begin my dance…God, I’m really good at this…
Matt Greer
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Tasting Things I Step On...
This truly made sense at the time, and I refuse to apologize or try to elaborate, as this is the last time I will talk about it. Seriously, I'm typing this up and then I’m pretending it never happened.
So, I just got done tasting an object off the floor. Actually I tasted it twice. I think this was more of a moment of curiosity mixed with alcohol, as opposed to my need to taste things I step on. I know what you are thinking (stop it, I can't help myself). All I did was to get up to make a drink. It's not like that is strange. I just so happened to step on something that was not made to be stepped on. Oh my god it hurt so much and I found myself falling to the floor with the oddest foreign object lodged in my foot.
Okay, here is the deal in my household. I have a black lab that I dearly love and she chews everything. I laugh because my daughter’s dolls have no feet at all. My lab loves plastic feet. I'm sure there is a support group for labs with plastic foot fetishes but I'm just a tad bit busy and don't have time to go. Can't I just subscribe to the weekly newsletter that offers support and guidance? Regardless, there could be random shards of nothingness on my floor. Usually, if I step on something I blame the dog or my children and walk away exasperated after I clean it up.
I'm lying on the hardwoods, looking at possibly the oddest thing I have ever seen, lodged directly in the ball of my foot. I have no idea what the hell this thing could possibly be. I have short visions of Doctor House trying experimental therapy in an attempt to remove this object without a name. I absolutely love the Doctor House. Anyway, I look at the object and decide that just a quick yank will make the problem go away. I count to three but pull it on four (like I'm trying to surprise or fool myself). What I see next completely shocks me. What the hell is that?
I'm looking at an object that is from the future...or past...definitely not the present. It looks metallic but could be plastic, maybe made from materials unknown to humans. I'm guessing it is something chewed by my lab but I'm wondering if it could actually be chewed. It appears to be fleshed colored on the outside but strangely blue on the inside.
I can't help myself, I smell it. Doesn't really smell like anything. I turn it in my fingers and then set it down on our ottoman. I walk around it for a second (actually forever as I made multiple drinks). I'm breaking this down in my head. What the hell is that? How did it get on my floor and why, for the love of God, is it so painful to step on?
I pick it up again and inspect it further, as most certainly I will be able to mentally break this down. I turn it around in my fingers and squeeze it. I try so hard to smell it again as if my super human smelling ability will give away its identity (your judging me). I stand there completely enamored. If it tastes like plastic, it is probably plastic and my dog chewed it and left it. I shouldn't taste it (I know what you are thinking). I'm totally going to taste it. I have gone too far and put way too much thought into it. Just to lightly touch it on my tongue for a second is completely harmless? That would be okay, right?
I’m daring myself to taste it. I do not suffer from multiple personalities but I do hear different voices in my head, totally encouraging me and only a few that are telling me this is a bad idea. I'm looking at this thing that doesn't seem man made. It's not recognizable, it doesn't smell like anything, it's hard enough to cut glass, it is flesh colored on the outside, blue in the middle. I have to taste it. I can't bite it and I won't bite it because that would be worse? I could put my tongue on it though. Just for a second.
At this point it's way too late. I’ve already committed and I can't back down. I taste it. I can't actually explain what it tastes like (even to myself) which is why I tasted it again. It actually tastes pretty good, which is why I swished it around in my mouth for a little while. I'm unsure if it's my fingers I tasted originally, or if it is this object that mildly tastes like bacon. I probably shouldn't have put my tongue on this thing twice but swishing it around in my mouth feels liberating, hell it feels manly! I couldn't help myself.
I walked in to the backyard and threw it in the grass. I had to make it go away. I don't want to know (oh my god I must know). I will sleep just fine and move on with my life (my life will never be the same). I am perfectly fine knowing that there is an object that I stepped on, that left me a bit befuddled (I'm going to search on hands and knees to find it). I am going to move on to another cocktail and resume my life (totally curious what it will taste like tomorrow).
Friends and family...rest assured that I am not walking around picking things off the floor and tasting them. I swear I'm not (but I have if you are in to that kind of thing).
So, I just got done tasting an object off the floor. Actually I tasted it twice. I think this was more of a moment of curiosity mixed with alcohol, as opposed to my need to taste things I step on. I know what you are thinking (stop it, I can't help myself). All I did was to get up to make a drink. It's not like that is strange. I just so happened to step on something that was not made to be stepped on. Oh my god it hurt so much and I found myself falling to the floor with the oddest foreign object lodged in my foot.
Okay, here is the deal in my household. I have a black lab that I dearly love and she chews everything. I laugh because my daughter’s dolls have no feet at all. My lab loves plastic feet. I'm sure there is a support group for labs with plastic foot fetishes but I'm just a tad bit busy and don't have time to go. Can't I just subscribe to the weekly newsletter that offers support and guidance? Regardless, there could be random shards of nothingness on my floor. Usually, if I step on something I blame the dog or my children and walk away exasperated after I clean it up.
I'm lying on the hardwoods, looking at possibly the oddest thing I have ever seen, lodged directly in the ball of my foot. I have no idea what the hell this thing could possibly be. I have short visions of Doctor House trying experimental therapy in an attempt to remove this object without a name. I absolutely love the Doctor House. Anyway, I look at the object and decide that just a quick yank will make the problem go away. I count to three but pull it on four (like I'm trying to surprise or fool myself). What I see next completely shocks me. What the hell is that?
I'm looking at an object that is from the future...or past...definitely not the present. It looks metallic but could be plastic, maybe made from materials unknown to humans. I'm guessing it is something chewed by my lab but I'm wondering if it could actually be chewed. It appears to be fleshed colored on the outside but strangely blue on the inside.
I can't help myself, I smell it. Doesn't really smell like anything. I turn it in my fingers and then set it down on our ottoman. I walk around it for a second (actually forever as I made multiple drinks). I'm breaking this down in my head. What the hell is that? How did it get on my floor and why, for the love of God, is it so painful to step on?
I pick it up again and inspect it further, as most certainly I will be able to mentally break this down. I turn it around in my fingers and squeeze it. I try so hard to smell it again as if my super human smelling ability will give away its identity (your judging me). I stand there completely enamored. If it tastes like plastic, it is probably plastic and my dog chewed it and left it. I shouldn't taste it (I know what you are thinking). I'm totally going to taste it. I have gone too far and put way too much thought into it. Just to lightly touch it on my tongue for a second is completely harmless? That would be okay, right?
I’m daring myself to taste it. I do not suffer from multiple personalities but I do hear different voices in my head, totally encouraging me and only a few that are telling me this is a bad idea. I'm looking at this thing that doesn't seem man made. It's not recognizable, it doesn't smell like anything, it's hard enough to cut glass, it is flesh colored on the outside, blue in the middle. I have to taste it. I can't bite it and I won't bite it because that would be worse? I could put my tongue on it though. Just for a second.
At this point it's way too late. I’ve already committed and I can't back down. I taste it. I can't actually explain what it tastes like (even to myself) which is why I tasted it again. It actually tastes pretty good, which is why I swished it around in my mouth for a little while. I'm unsure if it's my fingers I tasted originally, or if it is this object that mildly tastes like bacon. I probably shouldn't have put my tongue on this thing twice but swishing it around in my mouth feels liberating, hell it feels manly! I couldn't help myself.
I walked in to the backyard and threw it in the grass. I had to make it go away. I don't want to know (oh my god I must know). I will sleep just fine and move on with my life (my life will never be the same). I am perfectly fine knowing that there is an object that I stepped on, that left me a bit befuddled (I'm going to search on hands and knees to find it). I am going to move on to another cocktail and resume my life (totally curious what it will taste like tomorrow).
Friends and family...rest assured that I am not walking around picking things off the floor and tasting them. I swear I'm not (but I have if you are in to that kind of thing).
Friday, October 21, 2011
Finding Her Broken...
A dream that visits me often without invitation is a moment where I find myself in front of a large stone. I begin to carve a woman. She is perfect to me and becomes even more so because she is my creation. As I carve, an imperfection shows itself. A small crack that becomes more and more evident, the deeper I dig. A fissure within the stone, a crack that was buried deep within. It frustrates me and entices me, and continues to draw me deeper. I work with the fissure and find a woman, although imperfect, absolutely beautiful and without fault. I wonder if I created her or she created me. I carve on…
I touch the stone that is her, and I will not sleep. I don’t want to awaken and find her in pieces. I will sit and wait, and enjoy her while I can, as long as she lasts. Eventually falling into pieces myself, as I was never meant to be whole or complete. In the end I'm finding myself broken...
Thursday, October 20, 2011
A Battle With A Roach Of Biblical Proportions...
So it’s late at night and I'm drinking, heavily. I'm not going to argue that point. I am sitting, while watching the late, oh so late news (possibly from tomorrow). It has been really dry here as in no rain whatsoever. I have noticed the occasional roach coming inside, looking for water. Today it rains hardcore. Thank God for this respite in the heat.
So I am watching the news and notice a little movement, just out of the corner of my eye. It is a gigantic roach, of biblical proportions climbing up the wall. I am sitting there wondering where it came from and what has it been eating to make it so big. I swear I am not stretching this story in the fact that this is the Shaquille Oneal of tree roaches. It is so big.
I watch with fascination as it slowly goes up the wall, towards the ceiling as if that is the place to be. I am ready to strike. I take off my flip flop and start planning how I am going to take this sucker down. The real problem is that it keeps moving up the wall. I have vaulted ceilings and realize I cant reach it unless I throw my flip flop which will cause my wife to wake (never a good thing when I wake her). I watch as it climbs directly over me, and the fan that is the centerpiece of our den. I have visions of bringing in the ladder and jumping up and smacking it with my flip flop. Much like Michael Jordan. Not a great idea. I will wait to see its next move.
It hovers, taunting me, for what seems like a lifetime. It's right above the fan. I have visions of it falling in the fan and being chopped to pieces and bathing me in its slaughtered glory. Okay it's not a blender, but an ordinary fan. Sounds cool though doesn’t it? I stare at it, waiting for battle. I remove my other flip flop in the case that this may be a two handed battle.
The roach falls. It hits the fan and rockets straight into my forehead. Had it hit my my forehead and bounced off, I would have crushed it into the hardwoods. It hit my forehead and ran down my body and then I ran screaming out the front door. Okay...screw you.
A roach in the forehead sent me screaming into the front yard. You are so judging me but you just don't understand the horror.
I collect myself on the front porch and work on a plan. I need a plan as quickly as possible. Damn it man, my family is in there. I have to save them. Years of sales training come in to play. A quote from Sun Tzu makes perfect sense "Attack your enemy when they are most comfortable". I got a plan and I'm unafraid to implement it.
Roaches run from the light...right? I have both flip flops in hand as I gingerly step into the house. I start turning off lights as I go. Darkness...this is where I will find my enemy. I make it into the den and turn everything off. Okay, I kind of panic because I cant see anything and I am mildly liquored up. It's okay because I am ready to do battle. I am the bait. Come on super huge roach. I am ready.
I sink to the floor, much like a serpent ready to strike, flip flop in each hand. I am crawling, ready to get this mother on (I mean like ON). Nothing is happening. It is super quiet. I lean my head to the hardwoods and listen for a noise. I cant hear anything and I cant see anything. This roach is going to kick my ass. Okay, this was a bad idea. I reach into my pocket and find my lighter and click it. FIRE. Now, and only now, are we ready to do battle. I hear clicking on the hardwoods...it seems so far away but close enough to cause damage and I hunker down. My black labrador walks up and licks me on the forehead and I scream bloody murder. How dare you sneak up on me. You probably scared my enemy away.
I stand up because this is so silly and a little absurd. I check my daughters for good measure and they appear to be fine. I walk slowly towards the bedroom, casually throwing glances over my shoulder (I know this bastard is following me). I decide not to take out my contacts. I have to see too fight, right? Don’t be silly, of course I do. I'm leaving on my shorts because they are cargo shorts and make me feel just a little bit tougher. Something about the side pockets seem like tools for destruction. I could store all kinds of stuff in them (what I don’t know). Whatever, you are judging me. I have my lighter. I know this gigantic son of a bitch is going to attack me while I am in bed (attack when they are most comfortable, I hate you Sun Tzu).
So I am watching the news and notice a little movement, just out of the corner of my eye. It is a gigantic roach, of biblical proportions climbing up the wall. I am sitting there wondering where it came from and what has it been eating to make it so big. I swear I am not stretching this story in the fact that this is the Shaquille Oneal of tree roaches. It is so big.
I watch with fascination as it slowly goes up the wall, towards the ceiling as if that is the place to be. I am ready to strike. I take off my flip flop and start planning how I am going to take this sucker down. The real problem is that it keeps moving up the wall. I have vaulted ceilings and realize I cant reach it unless I throw my flip flop which will cause my wife to wake (never a good thing when I wake her). I watch as it climbs directly over me, and the fan that is the centerpiece of our den. I have visions of bringing in the ladder and jumping up and smacking it with my flip flop. Much like Michael Jordan. Not a great idea. I will wait to see its next move.
It hovers, taunting me, for what seems like a lifetime. It's right above the fan. I have visions of it falling in the fan and being chopped to pieces and bathing me in its slaughtered glory. Okay it's not a blender, but an ordinary fan. Sounds cool though doesn’t it? I stare at it, waiting for battle. I remove my other flip flop in the case that this may be a two handed battle.
The roach falls. It hits the fan and rockets straight into my forehead. Had it hit my my forehead and bounced off, I would have crushed it into the hardwoods. It hit my forehead and ran down my body and then I ran screaming out the front door. Okay...screw you.
A roach in the forehead sent me screaming into the front yard. You are so judging me but you just don't understand the horror.
I collect myself on the front porch and work on a plan. I need a plan as quickly as possible. Damn it man, my family is in there. I have to save them. Years of sales training come in to play. A quote from Sun Tzu makes perfect sense "Attack your enemy when they are most comfortable". I got a plan and I'm unafraid to implement it.
Roaches run from the light...right? I have both flip flops in hand as I gingerly step into the house. I start turning off lights as I go. Darkness...this is where I will find my enemy. I make it into the den and turn everything off. Okay, I kind of panic because I cant see anything and I am mildly liquored up. It's okay because I am ready to do battle. I am the bait. Come on super huge roach. I am ready.
I sink to the floor, much like a serpent ready to strike, flip flop in each hand. I am crawling, ready to get this mother on (I mean like ON). Nothing is happening. It is super quiet. I lean my head to the hardwoods and listen for a noise. I cant hear anything and I cant see anything. This roach is going to kick my ass. Okay, this was a bad idea. I reach into my pocket and find my lighter and click it. FIRE. Now, and only now, are we ready to do battle. I hear clicking on the hardwoods...it seems so far away but close enough to cause damage and I hunker down. My black labrador walks up and licks me on the forehead and I scream bloody murder. How dare you sneak up on me. You probably scared my enemy away.
I stand up because this is so silly and a little absurd. I check my daughters for good measure and they appear to be fine. I walk slowly towards the bedroom, casually throwing glances over my shoulder (I know this bastard is following me). I decide not to take out my contacts. I have to see too fight, right? Don’t be silly, of course I do. I'm leaving on my shorts because they are cargo shorts and make me feel just a little bit tougher. Something about the side pockets seem like tools for destruction. I could store all kinds of stuff in them (what I don’t know). Whatever, you are judging me. I have my lighter. I know this gigantic son of a bitch is going to attack me while I am in bed (attack when they are most comfortable, I hate you Sun Tzu).
I slowly reach in my pocket and pull out my lighter as I lay in bed. I have to test it just once more because I have to have the light. I flick it and it powers up much like the sun. It gives me reassurance and power. Immediately my wife rolls over and asks "What the hell are you doing?" My answer...umm...nothing honey...go back to sleep. I am shivering. I know you are out there you nasty bastard. I look for my flip flops and can’t see them. I light the lighter one more time and my wife turns with a look that can only be described as frightening. She looks mildly scary in the light from my torch (lighter but I prefer torch). "Seriously?" She doesn’t realize the fight I have stepped in to. I know you are out there you freaking nasty bastard. You touched me once, oh my god please don’t touch me while I am asleep. I can't sleep. I feel like Santa Anna’s Army at San Jacinto. Close your eyes for a siesta, get your ass kicked. It’s coming for me. It’s my ass. I am the bait. Come here...I want you to come here.
Wide awake...shivering.
Matt Greer
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
A Look That Lingers...
I am fortunate in that I find people interesting and watch with intent, looking for myself and something I can relate to. I prefer to think of it as voyeurism as I always tend to do a bit more than observe, I tend to attach feelings to faces and memories to glances. Some people think of themselves as people watchers, I tend to believe that most of those types of people look for things that don’t make sense or appear wrong, maybe something to laugh, or maybe just curiosity. I’m looking for things I recognize and hope for and understand. I don’t think there is necessarily a right or a wrong way to observe, the very act of paying attention seems like enough…
The day before yesterday, I sat in a local Austin New York based on their accents, who spoke of their trip to Austin
I scan the restaurant, and she wasn’t as easy as I thought she would be to spot. Beyond a few tables, one is large group of boisterous young girls, to a corner where two women sat alone and whispered intently, inches away from one another’s faces, deeply intent on sharing information that was only intended for the two of them. Was it a lover they spoke of? Could it be a feud among concerned friends? The woman in this mans vision was a lovely brunette in very casual clothes but a pleasant smile and a look that said she was funny with very little or no effort.
I watched him fight for her glance, as though he needed it to survive. He shifted in his chair, seeming to make big motions as if to catch her attention, just sort of waving his hands over his head as if to say, "Please look over here". I was completely engaged in his plight and almost thought of helping him out by dropping a plate between our two tables, just in hopes that she might glance over. It wasn’t working as she was buried in a conversation with her friend that had her giggling and laughing and whispering loudly, as I imagined she did during late sleepovers with her friends as a very young girl.
At the very moment he lost hope and resigned back to the conversation at hand, re-engaging with his business partner, she looked up and glanced around and found him, but for only a second. I waited for it, and I waited for it, and there it was…she looked at him again. A long lingering look. I glanced back and forth, waiting for him to look at her and when he finally did, she had already gone back to talking with her friend. I thought about the look he gave her and the look she gave him, forgetting about my lunch or my time schedule. A long lingering look and all it holds. Is it attraction by itself? Is it want or need? Maybe it’s a hope for validation? It could just be our need to make a human connection and an understanding. Maybe it’s as simple as attraction and a need to know more. I truly believe that more can be said with eye contact, in just a moment, than a mouth can utter in a life time.
The man and his partner signal for the bill…he looks again for her because he has to. If you have ever truly wanted for a moment like this, you can see it from a mile away. He is literally reaching with his eyes to find her. She looks up and immediately, I can feel it, a connection is made. I can tell by the look on her face she wasn’t expecting to find him with a look on his face that said so much. She looks a bit aghast and almost taken back, yet totally taken in. They literally stare at each other, across a few tables, with no real intent other than enjoying each others gaze for a bit longer. Her friend notices and turns to looks at the man but he doesn’t notice the friend at all, nor does he notice that the bill has arrived at the table, and he did not hear his business partner ask if he was going to pick up the tab. A long lingering look that held so much more than even I could relay in this story.
She fights to not smile; he couldn’t stop himself if he tried. He smiles sheepishly and recklessly. Finally a hint of a blush, and a small grin and she looks away, turning towards her friend who is grinning from ear to ear. He listens to his partner complain about picking up yet another check and he reassures him, I swear the next one is on me. They get up from the table and I see it happen immediately, he makes a half step in her direction and changes his mind. He is walking behind his partner as they wander to the exit and I watch the young lady casually glance, wondering if he will look again… he does. You can see it in his posture…he has to, just one more time. He literally stops in the aisle, and turns and looks at her with more passion than you can normally find in an average persons life. I can see what he is doing, he is remembering her face, he will always remember this moment and will pull it from his memory more often than you would imagine, for the rest of his life. He knows he will probably never see her again, and has no idea when he will ever be in Austin
I lean back in my chair and watched her watch him leave. Her friend is literally screaming to go get him but that wasn’t what it was about. They shared more in those looks than she could possibly hope for. A connection was made and it touched them both.
I felt privileged to witness that type of occurrence, it was absolutely beautiful. Of the two things I would wish for all my friends and family, the first would be to watch and pay attention as you never know what you are missing. There is more to people watching if you are interested than you could possibly imagine. The second would be that you all have the pleasure of enjoying a lifetime of long lingering looks…who knows what you will find in another persons eyes.
Matt Greer
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