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June 28, 2017 · 6:36 pm

Eating Life excerpt

Eating Life CoverLater, as they were lying in bed eating yogurt and granola, Anna asked Brilliant why she always laughed when she reached for the dildo.

“I never told you that story?”

“Come on,” Anna said. “I want to hear it.”

Brilliant opened her mouth and Anna obliged by spooning some yogurt in. Clearing her throat, Brilliant straightened up a bit, stretching one long leg over Anna’s thigh. “Columbus Gay Pride, 1996. I was there with a hot butch mechanic.”

“I forgot you date butches, too,” Anna said, smiling. “Is that weird?”

“I like women, Anna. Butch or femme or, like me, something in between.”

“I don’t have a problem with that. It’s just strange to picture you with anyone that isn’t me,” Anna replied.

“Yeah, imagine how I feel,” Brilliant said.

“We made a pact that we wouldn’t talk about Megan,” Anna said, shifting slightly away from Brilliant.

“I’m sorry. I keep breaking the rules. First I fall in love with you. Then I start a dialogue about your partner. Next thing you know, I’ll be asking you to leave her.”

“That can’t happen,” Anna said. “And I don’t want to have a dialogue about it.”

“Everyone leaves me, Anna. Everyone. My parents, my grandparents, my brother. Why don’t you just promise to stay with me?”

Anna glared. “Why don’t you start dating women who are unattached?”

Brilliant sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I would rather date someone I know is going to disappoint me than put my trust in someone and be let down again.”

“Are we going to process your bad relationship choices all day?” Anna asked.

“We’re lesbians, Anna.” Brilliant grinned. “We process everything.”

Anna leaned over and tweaked one of Brilliant’s nipples. “Process this,” she said.

“Ahem. Continuing my story,” Brilliant said, pulling Anna snugly against her. “Gay Pride. Some dude in a leather thong was walking around selling raffle tickets.”

“Okay.” Anna giggled. She dipped her finger into the yogurt and smeared a bit on Brilliant’s nipple. Leaning down to lick it off, she motioned for the rest of the story.

“Of course I bought a few. They were only a dollar. I had no idea what they were for, but I couldn’t resist a man in a leather thong selling raffle tickets for a dollar apiece. It was so stereotypical gay pride.”

“I can see that,” Anna said, releasing the nipple. “So, what happened?”

What happened? Pre-order Eating Life on Amazon or ask for it at your favorite local bookstore and find out

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New Year’s Resolutions

This year, I will not make any resolutions that imply I am anything other than perfectly wonderful just the way I am. I will not make any resolutions meant to make me feel bad about myself, nor will I make any sweeping pronouncements about how I want to be thinner, smarter, better, more.

This year, I won’t make any New Year’s resolutions that aren’t expressly intended to make me or my loved ones feel good about themselves.

This year, I resolve to practice self-care. This year, I’d like to treat my body with loving care. I want to spend more time at the farmer’s market and less time at big box stores. I would like to walk more, bike more, eat more vegetables. I would like to spend more time dancing. I want to save the money for a few pedicures. I want to make sure my sex life stays fresh and loving and invigorating. I want to sleep soundly. I resolve to hug my dog daily. I resolve to spend more time playing with my cat.

This year, I want to connect more. I resolve to send more paper letters. I want to reach out to someone who hasn’t heard from me in a long time. I would like to smile at more people. I want to compliment strangers. I want to tell my friends when they are wonderful and let it go when they are not. I want to appreciate the people who love me. I want to continue to be grateful for calling a partner into my life who loves me and shows me in a billion different ways. This year, I want to talk to my mother more often. I’d like to have more women come to my house for talks and coffee and shared breakfasts. I’d like to touch my friends more, hold their hands, hug them, ask them if they are lonely, or if they are living their dreams. I want to help people who need help.

This year, I want to spend time focusing on my career. I want to finish my fourth novel and start my fifth. I would like to submit at least one more short story this year than last. I want to find ways to market my self-love classes to a wider audience. I would like to network with other writers and teachers. I want to find a job teaching online with a college or university.

This year, I would like to stress less about paying bills. I don’t want to buy more stuff, but I would like to be able to pay the electric bill and my mortgage in the same week. I don’t want to be rich, but I want to be unafraid of where the next groceries are coming from. This year, I want to put some effort into making enough money that I can make decisions about spending, rather than reactions. This year, I’d like to make enough money that I can donate some of it to causes that touch my heart.

This year I want to stay informed about political decisions that can harm myself and my family without letting the news drag me into a depression. I want to act to protect myself and my loved ones without allowing myself to be silenced about that which is important to me.

This year, I want to be myself. I want to do what I want to do. I want to follow the calling of my own soul. This year, I resolve to be proud of myself. I resolve to follow my dreams. I want to love freely and live openly.

This year, I will cherish what I have, rather than pursue what I don’t.

Happy New Year.

 

 

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My Inner Calling

I saw this on Oriah Mountain Dreamer’s facebook page today. “Where does the energy want to go? Feel it in your body, heart, and spirit. Follow where it leads. It will be easiest to face whatever challenges arise if you are honouring your inner calling.”

Well, that seems like really great advice, doesn’t it? I mean, honor your inner calling. Who can argue with that? Be true to yourself, follow your dreams, take the road less traveled (if that is your way) and live a joyful life.

The thing is, how do I really know what my inner calling is? I mean, I think I live a pretty good life. I’ve published one novel. My second novel is finished and off to the editors to be red-lined and sent back for edits. My third novel is outlined and the characters are starting to come alive for me. I have a lover who celebrates me for who I am. I have some amazing family members. I have friends who are more than friends, more than family, more than anything that can be described using currently existing words.

I try to wake up happy and grateful and I try to stay happy and grateful throughout the day. I have a car that I love, I have a fantastic and extremely patient dog, I have the books that I want to read and access to more when I want them. I eat well, I exercise, I take a yoga class, and I am taking a full time class load. I like my life.

Then why is there always this pesky little voice in the back of my head saying, “Yeah, but what’s next? What else is there? Where do you want to go? What do you want to do?” Even worse than that is the voice of “wait and see.” Wait until you finish this novel. Wait until you lose fifty pounds. Wait until you have more money in the bank. Wait until… whatever. It’s as if I am caught in an eddy between thinking I am not doing what I should be doing and telling myself that I can’t do those things right now anyway.

I read Oriah’s post today and I thought that it was so timely. Honor your inner calling. I’m going to do that. But first, I need to figure out what my inner calling is.

So I put on some Crosby, Stills & Nash (because if old hippies can’t help you meditate, who can?) and sat down, closed my eyes and started to meditate/pray/ask for guidance/look into my own soul/whatever. And I asked the universe/God/myself/The Creator/the great network of positive energy in the world “What is my inner calling?”

What is my inner calling? Well, duh. My inner calling is to be at peace with myself. That’s what I want. I want to be at peace within myself and I want to help to bring peace to others. And that voice, that pesky voice, the one that likes to throw all of my doubts and insecurities into a pot and stir them around, likes to tell me that I can find peace if only I (insert your own if only here.) If only I went to Sedona. If only I went to India. If only I took that meditation class. If only I went to that drum circle. If only I would make myself meditate every day. If only I could be perfectly centered all of the time. If only I never made stupid mistakes. If only I was never judgmental, if I never said an unkind word, if I never got mad at my partner, if I never snapped at the dog, if, if, if.

If only.

Well, this morning with the help of CS&N, I silenced that little voice for a little while and I thought about what I really need to do to find inner peace. And I realized that there is no such thing as “finding” inner peace. I don’t find it, I create it. I create it within myself. And I don’t create it by jetting off to the spiritual places of the world, I create it by realizing that what I have, right now, is exactly what I chose for myself. I made everything in my life. I am currently making everything in my life. Everything that is happening is happening because of me. And when I come to truly embrace that, I’ll learn that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Peace isn’t in some far off place, and it isn’t in some meditation classes. Those places and activities may be good for me and they may help bring me in line with others who are searching for the same things, but they are not mandatory for my inner peace. My inner peace is right where I am, right now.

Inner peace. Inner. It’s inside of me. It seems pretty self-explanatory when I get right down to it. My peace. My self. My happiness. My gratitude. Peace and joy come not from going out and searching for the secret to inner peace, but from truly having gratitude for what I do have in my life.

Inner peace. How about that?

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An Award-Winning Novelist

Yep. That’s me. An Award-Winning Novelist. I’m pretty sure I speak it in all caps, too. See, I submitted my little novel to the Elisa Rolles LGBT Rainbow Awards and guess what happened? I won three. Yep. Number one in one category, number two in another, and honorable mention in yet a third. Am I stoked? Yeah.

Not that this really changes much. I’m still living below the poverty level. I’m still trying to get my homework done on time. I’m still trying to figure out how to market my book so people will buy it. And I am still fighting tooth and nail with the second book. I swear that for every thousand words I write, I go back and delete eight hundred. Despite my power of positive thinking that I have been trying so desperately to practice, I am still floundering on that one. The editor who worked on Man Enough sent me an email the other day asking how it was going and I told her that it was going badly. She emailed me back that she was sending me good vibes. It helped. I wrote well that day. Maybe it was just the centering from knowing someone was sending me good thoughts. Or maybe she helped me focus my own good thoughts. Either way, it helped. I need to figure out how to do that every single day on my own. So, that’s where I am with that. My goal for the next week is to maybe spend a few minutes of each morning (maybe during morning yoga) just focusing positive thoughts and maybe some visualizations on Andy’s Song.

In the meantime, I am now an  Award-Winning Novelist! Boo-ya! I am kind of coasting on the excitement of that. I did scream (loudly) when I found out, causing Lucretia to come tearing in with her hand over her heart thinking I was dying or that I had seen a snake or something. I then forwarded the email to my mother, my stepmother, and my publisher. (That’s telling, isn’t it?)

Well, being an *A*ward-*W*inning *N*ovelist definitely comes with some responsibility. I have a responsibility now to get the word out there about Man Enough. I have a responsibility to finish Andy’s Song so I can move on to the next novel that is already pushing at my brain. And I have a responsibility to be absolutely fabulous at all times. (That’s the easy part, at least.)

So, keep your eyes open. Who knows? Maybe soon you’ll see me strutting across the stage of the Ellen show or Oprah’s new show. Hey! It could happen!

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Asking the Right Questions.

I believe the Universe, the Creator, the spirits, your own soul, something, gives you what you need when you need it, as long as you know what to ask for. Maybe you don’t get it right away, or maybe you were asking for the wrong thing, but eventually, you will have everything you need. And a few things you just want.

And I think the creator has a sense of humor. A small example: Lucretia and I went hiking the weekend before last. As we were walking on the trail, I said, “I really want to see a wild turkey today.” A few minutes later, Lucretia spotted something on the ground, reached down to pick it up and handed it to me. “A wild turkey feather,” she said. Well, I *did* say that I wanted to see a wild turkey. Perhaps I should have specified that I would like to see one in its entirety.

Fast forward, we went to the hootenanny that I talked about last blog. I loved it so much that I decided that I want to learn to play the banjo. Now, banjos are pretty expensive, so I told L that I was going to find one, probably in a thrift store or something, for like thirty bucks. I figured that way, it wouldn’t be so expensive that I would feel bad if I turned out to hate it. Well, it didn’t work out quite like that, but a couple of days later, we were at a friend’s house and I mentioned how I really want to learn to play the banjo and Lynda told me I could borrow her banjo for a couple of weeks to try it out and see if I like playing it. First of all, I didn’t even know that she had a banjo! Secondly, thank you, Universe. I needed that.

The universe listens. This is probably important to note, because lately, I have been having a lot of problems with my second novel; I have been having trouble getting into my characters and unlike my last novel, I am not really sure where it is going. So, what I have been thinking in my head is “I don’t know if I can finish my second novel.” Well, I didn’t think that about the banjo. I merely said, “I’m going to learn the banjo and I am going to find a banjo so I can start practicing.” With the turkey, I simply said, “I want to see a wild turkey.” Somehow, the universe always provides what you put out there that you want.

So, when I am putting out these negative thoughts, I am bringing them back to me. Instead of thinking that I can’t finish this book, I am going to start putting it out there that I *am* going to finish this book, and then move on to the next one that is already bouncing around in my head. I am going to start saying that I *am* going to do this, I *will* do this, I am mostly certainly going to do this. And the universe will respond in kind.

Your thoughts are probably your most powerful tool to creating your own world and making your own dreams come true. Make sure they aren’t working against you.

P.S. I *love* the banjo.

http://www.sapphirebooks.com/beth.html

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The Plunge

Well, I have three more days left of the day job. Three. Then the days of regular weekly paychecks are over. Small as they sometimes are, they are always there, directly deposited into my account and enough for me to pay my bills and have some extras. I’ve never been wealthy. There have been times in my life when I lived pretty high. In Phoenix, when I was working corporate payroll and my then partner owned her own business, we had quite a lot of disposable income. But we weren’t happy, and the money went into things to try to fill the emptiness… drinking, shopping, loading up on *stuff* because it gave us some sense of moving up in the world, even if we both acknowledged on some level that material possessions didn’t make us happier.

Fast forward to the person I am today. I made a decision to make myself into the kind of person I admire. That person is full of love and warmth. That person has compassion. That person believes that human beings are basically good and some of them need help.  That person believes in simplifying and getting rid of attachments to “things.” That person believes that in living simply, one can live far below the financial “needs” of most human beings.

It’s kind of a Zen thing. Everything is our own choice. You can choose to quit your job. There may be consequences, such as not being able to afford to go out to eat, or buy that new DVD, or have a big car payment, but you can make the choice.

Here it is. I am choosing freedom over financial security. I could continue working until I finish my degree, then get a better job. I could continue to try to fit in little bits of writing around the day job. I could be secure in the knowledge that if I want to buy a new laptop, I can get one or if I want to have cable tv or fashionable clothing, I could swing it. I could have a mortgage and a car payment. But I would be a slave to someone else’s demands on my time.

Instead, I am about to be a slave to my own demands and it scares me because I can be really hard on myself, insisting I get up at 6 AM to start writing, making long lists of all my assignments and checking them off one by one. Or I can find myself lazying around, running errands, checking facebook, walking the dog, looking at flowers, pondering the greater mysteries of the universe, doing a new Yoga video, listening to music, or reading “just a few pages” of this Neil Gaiman book. I’m undisciplined and inconsistent. Easily distracted. Mildly lazy. Ridiculously flighty. Even now, I should be reading a chapter on the English invasion of America and the American Indian reaction to it, but instead, I’m writing this blog and texting with my girlfriend and trying to decide what to make for lunch because my sister is coming over from work and needs something to eat. I sometimes think I need a life coach.

Still, even without the steady paycheck, I am feeling a sense of peace about my impending unemployment. I don’t have a lot of bills. I don’t have to pay rent or utilities. I don’t have a car payment. And I have recently moved into a love that fulfills me in a kind and healthy way. I keep half-expecting that being so happy and in love will stifle my creativity, but so far, I am feeling more inspired – driven to write more, driven to want to get caught up on all of my to-dos, so I can come to her with a clean slate, the proverbial unemployed girlfriend who is living below the poverty level, but who can count on that royalty check coming in every month.

And I am now free and on my own time. I got up this morning and actually wrote for a couple of hours, something that has been failing me in the last few weeks of long hours at the job. I gathered up a big bag of clothes and a box of books to be donated. I drove my mother on some errands. I wrote down my school assignments, though I haven’t actually started working on any of them yet.

So, I’m free. Free to take off to parts unknown. Free to travel the open road, as long as I have enough money to pay for gas. Free to go spend a month in Iowa with my girlfriend. Free to make my own choices, good or bad. And I am ready and willing to face the consequences of those choices.

This is all on me now. I need to settle in to marketing my book. I am responsible for that. At the day job, if I am lazy and don’t work as hard, I still make the same paycheck. If I am excited and work my butt off, I still make the same paycheck. When I market, I sell more books. When I get lazy and don’t market, I don’t sell books. When I write, I get closer to completing the second novel which will bring me closer to not having to ever worry about having a day job again. When I don’t work on it, I am hurting no one by myself. When I write essays to submit to contests, I am helping to market the novel and the future novels. When I let deadlines slip by, I am wasting my opportunity to get my name out there. I have to believe in myself enough to put myself out there and make this happen for me.

It makes it easier that I adore my little novel and that I believe in the second one, as well. I like “Man Enough.” I think it is a wonderful book. It’s funny and cute and loving and the people who have read it have told me that they love it. (And not just my sisters, but perfect strangers as well.) I believe this book deserves a wider audience and I believe the next one will as well.

So I believe in myself. And now, that belief needs to carry me through this fact: I am always touting personal responsibility and taking possession of our own choices and now I am going to have to live that. No matter what else happens, from this moment on, I am personally responsible for my own success or failure.

That is both powerfully awesome and incredibly terrifying. And I believe that I can do it. I believe in me. I believe.

http://www.amazon.com/Man-Enough-ebook/dp/B008GVR7BK/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1341484984&sr=1-1

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Gays versus God.

It’s time for me to come out of the closet. I’m a jerk. I’m a total asshole. I’m a hypocrite. I’m working on trying not to be those things, if that is any consolation, but for now, we might as well just face the facts. I’m a bigot.

Here’s the thing. I preach against homophobes all of the time. I can’t believe there are people in the world who still think being gay is something to be ashamed of. I post news stories about people getting beat up because they’re gay. I follow the stories of the LGBT youth who are so bullied at school that they feel their only recourse is to take their own life. My heart breaks over these stories. So I cry and I rail and I send out these stories to my friends and I post them on Facebook and I donate to the “It Gets Better Project” and I put a special message in my novel about how it really *does* get better and I try to live my life as an example of a good person (for the most part) who can (and has!) changed people’s minds about their own homophobia. And that stuff is all great. If we leave it there, I’m a good person. I’m stellar. If I end this blog right now, you can walk away from this thinking about how nice I am and how much I care and how I try to facilitate change and we will all be happy.

Except, I’m not. And it is time for me to correct a wrong that I have been perpetrating for a long time now. See, I’m anti-Christian. I have been for many years. Whenever I met someone who said they were a Christian, or that they had a relationship with God, I kind of nodded and my eyes glazed over and I got away from them as quick as possible. Of course, I have my reasons. All bigots can find reasons for their bigotry. There’s Fred Phelps and his contingent of hatred. There’s the fact that so many homophobes use the bible as an excuse to bash gays. There are all of those Southern preachers making headlines for their many comments about gays. “Let’s throw them all in a prison and let them die out.” “If your child exhibits gay behavior, beat it out of him.” “God hates fags.” I was even in a church once, and it was the last time I went to church, where the whole sermon was about AIDS being an example of God’s wrath. It was likened to Noah’s flood. Only this time, I guess all of the straight people were going to live, as long as they didn’t have any contact with any gay people. This is important to note. God-loving Christians in this church were being told that they shouldn’t associate with gay people, that they shouldn’t allow them to make physical contact. That’s a pleasant thought. Not only was I an abomination, but people were being directed not to touch me… not to pat me on the shoulder or give me a hug or even hold my hand.

It’s enough to make any gay person cry.

So I shut down interest in being friends with anyone who was Christian or religious or who said things like, “I’ll pray for you,” because let’s be honest, when people say that, they really mean, “I’ll pray for you because you’re a miserable sinner and I don’t want to be contaminated by your wickedness.”

Am I bitter? Maybe a little.

It didn’t stop there. If it had, then maybe I could refrain from calling myself an asshole. If all I did was fester in my own little bubble of bitterness and fear, I could still be okay with the fact that I am now having to take a second look at my bigotry. But that wasn’t all I did. I actively worked to bring an anti-Christian bias to other people. Did I run around to churches with signs, protesting their services? No. But I sought out stories about the evil Christians, the ones who “hate fags,” the ones who advocate beating the gay out of your children, the ones who think it is okay to rape a woman to “cure” her of lesbianism, the ones who still think being gay can be prayed away, as long as there is sufficient motivation and perhaps some electric shock treatments. I sought those stories out and I reposted them. I shared them on my Facebook page and I sent them out to my Twitter followers and I emailed them to my contacts. And so, without meaning to be an activist, I became one. I became an activist against God and Christians.

Let me equate this to someone who seeks out stories about gay people who happen to be criminals and uses them as an example of why all gay people are evil. Do you see what I’m getting at here?

It gets worse.

Within the past couple of weeks, I have started having a lot of questions about God and Christianity. It came about because of two stellar people I have met, one gay, one not, who are Christians with a strong and joyous faith in God. Neither of them preached at me, nor did they try to convert me. They just exist as they are and let me see by their peaceful and loving lives.

Well, meeting intelligent and loving Christians confused me. And when I am confused, I look for answers. So what do I do when I have a question about anything? I put it out to my Facebook friends. I simply wrote this:

Gay Christians… or non-gay, but accepting Christians. If you want, please consider messaging me. I’m curious about a couple of things and would love to ask a couple of questions in a completely non-judgmental way. Thanks. 

In fifteen hours after sending out that message, I got sixty responses. Sixty. I haven’t even finished sorting through them. I’m overwhelmed with the responses. Some of them were from people I know personally. Some of them were from people with whom I have become facebook friends in one way or another, even though we have never met in real life. Some were from people who weren’t even Facebook friends, but friends of Facebook friends. Some were removed by two or three or even four direct links. And my email exploded, too. The call went out and people responded, forwarding the questions to their preachers and their uncles and their friends and their fellow church members and their old college buddies.

The two main questions I had were these:

1. How do you reconcile homosexuality with being Christian?

2. If there is a God, does He hate me?

This is where it gets kind of embarrassing.

All of the messages were brimming with love. I mean, every single one. All of them. I don’t know how else to express this. I have been message bombed by people who have taken time out of their own lives to tell me that they love me and that their God loves me. They explained how and why the bible has been misinterpreted and how the press likes to focus on these bad Christians which makes a lot of the rest of them look like intolerant bigots, when really they are just people living their lives in non-judgmental ways. JUST LIKE JESUS SAID! The messages were short or long. They quoted bible verses or they were just personal heartfelt expressions. Some were scholarly, some were not. One was listed in bullet points with references. Many said they needed time to think about just *how* to answer, but in the meantime, yes, you are loved, yes, you are loved, yes, you are loved. A couple were requests for a face to face meeting or a phone call to talk the issues over in person. Without exception, WITHOUT EXCEPTION, they were kind, loving, beautiful, and overflowing with that kind of warm and joyous faith that I found in the first two women who even made me start questioning in the first place.

Well, now I feel like a total dick.

And now I have to go back and rethink everything I have thought about God and his followers. Now I have to stop looking for the evil in Christians, and let myself be open to the good. Now I have to take a good hard look at my own bigotry and my own thoughtlessness and figure out how to move forward from here in a loving and compassionate, and dare I say it, Christian way. Am I a Christian now? No. Do I have a deep and abiding faith in God? Not really. But I have a strong and joyous love for all of the Christians who messaged me last night and this morning. And this is how it starts. *THIS* is where we start building the bridges. Because there are gay Christians out there… and there are straight, but accepting Christians out there. And even more importantly, it seems, at least from what I have seen in the last couple of days, that there is a place in this world for gays and God.

For the record, though, I still think Fred Phelps is a douche.

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Page One of “Man Enough”

Chapter One

I am on the worst date of my life. Okay, it probably isn’t the worst date of my life. I mean, it definitely isn’t worse than the date with the guy who poured ketchup over all of his food and snapped his gum throughout the entire meal. And it can’t compare to the one with the guy who brought his mother on our first date because he was sure we would all be the best of friends. It is definitely up there on the list of worst dates, though. See, I hate blind dates. They are just one more form of torture in an already humiliating activity. Dating just sucks anyway. I really hate dating. In fact, I haven’t dated in almost two years, but I got into this stupid challenge with my friends and I let my friend Steve set me up with this guy. There is no good reason to think that Steve would be good at setting me up. First of all, he’s gay, so he has an entirely different perspective on what makes a quality man. Secondly, I think he just assumes that as long as two people have orientation in common, they will be a perfect match. “Well, he’s straight, she’s straight. They’re made for each other!” I had never fallen for one of his schemes before, but I have seen the awkward short term matches that have come from his romantic meddling. Why do people in long term relationships always insist on setting up their single friends?

So, I am sitting across the table from a good looking man. He picked a good restaurant, I have to give him that. We are at a new place in downtown Cleveland, known for using only fresh, locally grown produce and, apparently, organic, local meat. My date is tall, blond and handsome. He’s pretty buff, too. I mean, let’s be fair, he is gorgeous. I told him that he kind of looks like a male version of my best friend Andy, but for some reason, he didn’t find that amusing. We’ve been trying to make small talk for an hour now and every time we launch into a new subject, I get more irritated with him. And, by default, Steve.

We started badly when we were ordering. I ordered a raw cashew stir fry. I’m a vegetarian, but I am trying hard to go fully vegan. So far, I haven’t quite gotten there, mostly because of the gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches at my favorite restaurant, Polly’s on Clifton. Anyway, when the waitress came to take our order, he ordered a steak.

http://www.amazon.com/Man-Enough-ebook/dp/B008GVR7BK/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1341484984&sr=1-1

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