Summer Blues

Mission 1. Hook up with someone as old as my mom (54) and as young as my sister (20) in a month.
Mission 2. Live a completely gay lifestyle (without the gay sex) for a month.
Mission Three: Live without an apartment for a month.
Mission Four: Reconnect.

I’m a boy of summer, just like Don Henley sang about, except I don't wear wayfarers. At least not for the last few decades. Although, cookouts, campouts and madras shorts do suspend some of the best memories of my life. But summer is over, and this boy needed to pay his penance. To step through the mental vortex that signified the end of all he loves, at least for another year.

Fucking Labor Day.

Granted, Southern California is nothing to complain about on this topic. But growing up in Pennsylvania, that feeling of misplaced summer and quiet winter inertia remain, regardless of where I live. My youth provides context if only to reflect a diluted L.A. passing of seasons.

In this past week, I have been reconnected to someone else in my life. The same ex-girlfriend camp who threatened to shut down my blog a few months ago dropped me a line just before Labor Day. We never talked about our breakup, and for her, this seemed like a good time. We both were experiencing the end of summer blues, and maybe that fueled her unannounced call. There was one caveat, I could not write about it. But let’s just say the husband, the actress and I have worked things out. It was and still remains a good thing.

I never got to drive Shelfie’s car. My plan was half-assed and had the potential to cause some serious harm. I tried to get the girls and mom out of the house, and start a strip poker game, exposing Shelfie’s shaved chest to all his friends. He broke the guy code, I figured it was the least I could do. But as I thought things through and removed my own ego, I just decided to let it fly. I didn’t need to prove my manhood to a guy who wanted to live a sexual conquest vicariously through me. Could I have had her? Probably, I got the vibe. But it will never happen. An imaginary line had been drawn that can never be unimagined. It's ashame because she was my type too, old and lustful. And I've been pretty horny lately. But with age comes baggage, and even if there was no bet, I didn’t need to be carrying any more than my own.

I was able to rationalize all this in my head, almost on the spot with Jamie's OC Mix #4 bumping in the background. At the table, I played up the charm and let Shelfie think the bet was on. And he seemed to love it--the flirting, the touching, the peeking at cards. I brought my "A" game as a pure misdirect. Because I read Shelfie as well as I read the woman. He has a horrible poker face and it was easy to tell he wanted to lose the bet. He was in the moment, and flesh trumps machine.

When the game ended and the lights went down, I simply parted ways with her. I think Shelfie was a bit surprised, but it was my only play. Screw her and I would have been his idol for life. Don’t, and I would never hear the end of it. I didn’t need either scenario in my life.

As the sun sets on Mission # 4, I remember some beautiful things. Things I’m not quite ready to put into words. It’s a bit hard to explain, but especially with ex-girlfriend actress, I found that life affords us the ability to reconnect as someone else, in different times, in different places. In this particular case, we entered as friends, became lovers (hate that word, but it makes the point), became enemies, and have completed the cycle as friends. It gives me hope for other relationships in my life. I like hope.

There is one final task I must complete before I lay rest to this mission, and that is to reconnect with some old friends from high school, including my first love. She’s married, has a few kids, but I’d like to at least say a proper goodbye. We never had the opportunity. For all I know, we're still going out. There was no official closure other than me going off to UCLA and us never speaking again. There's a fall wedding in a few weeks in PA that I will be attending that will give me opportunity to see many classmates, including her. And motive and opportunity are all the we need in life, right? At least that's what they say on NYPD Blue before they collar the bad guy. Anyway, I thought it a fitting finale to this mission, so why not.

Oh, and I got the number to the 19-year old. I'm calling her this weekend. Hopefully, she can release my end of summer blues.