While dining out with a male buddy last night at Hooters, I reached my epiphany about men.

Men, while extremely reliable at some things (throwing the trash, mowing the lawn, changing the oil, everything else 'He-man') they totally suck ass at others- like truth telling.

We sat there on two stools across from eachother and I began to notice that the direction of his eyeballs slid gracefully from my eyes to SMACK dab the center of another woman's BULDGING chest. These weren't breasts Folks, I'm telling you, they were SHOCK AND AWE.

Me- Are you looking at that woman's chest???
Him- Oh hell no, I was just reading what her shirt said!!

*Turning around and noticing that her white almost-see-through-shirt was BLANK, I turned and said-

Me- You know, it's extremely RUDE to sit here with me and PRETEND to be lost in what I have to say, when all the while you're mentally undressing other women!
Him- HUH?
Me- You're a wanker, why can't you just tell me the truth, you WERE looking at her tits, weren't you?
Him- If I DID, I didn't mean to, it must have just been a coincidence that I looked in her direction. But I SWEAR, I wasn't checking out her tits, C'MON, tits THAT big have got to be FAKE!

In my mind: I take the tiny fork from my oyster tray and jab it right in his beady little eyeballs

Let's face it, we all lie. What I can't understand is WHY men still opt to lie even when they're caught red handed. I've read somewhere that right before a person dies under excruciating circumstances their adrenaline will kick in and give it one more go at a chance to survive- a hail-Mary, if you will. Maybe this was his 'hail-Mary'.

If we lived in a perfect world- according to me, there'd be no war, no high-fructose corn syrup, no cellulite, no famine- and men wouldn't lie. Let's see how that would look....

Me- Are you looking at that woman's CHEST???
Him- Why yes, Yes I am! Aren't they just fucking grand??

Me- So you are! You're looking at her tits?
Him- Um...What part of yes didn't you understand? I mean c'mon, Look at those nipples! They look like pencil erasers they're so hard!

Me- So you think her's are nicer than mine???
Him- Well, from a distance her's DEFINITELY look firmer! They don't move around as much when she walks as YOURS do, but then again you HAVE had 2 children. But I'd actually have to cup 'em in my hands to tell if they're bigger than yours! I've never shot a buck- but I'd sure like to hang my trophy on her rack!

Me- Nice.
Him- Well, you asked.

Hmmm.....

Well, on second thought.

Maybe little 'white lies' aren't really SO bad.

The Letter

Somehwere in the corer of a 10x12 storage facility located on the corner of Boca Chica and Kings Highway, in central Brownsville, Texas, you will find a small box. This heart shaped box, adorned with impressions of France, is where I keep the pieces of us. The cards, letters, pictures, drawings, old airline tickets, Francs, and other mementos sleep tightly awaiting for mustered courage to find them again. And amongst the fragments of a love past, the most important one of all, a letter- that has not yet been written.

My Lover,

Like you do sometimes, with careleful disregard of my disposition, you took over my dreams yet again. I must hold you in my daily subconcious and you only surface when I'm in the deepest stage of slumber.

And I let you.

You don't just invade my dreams. You're in my thoughts, in my wishes. In the quiet whispers of the breeze through trees, in the air, in my skin, in my blood, in me. My thoughts of you can be so loud sometimes that I actually think I hear you.

But when I turn around, you're not there.

I daydream often about you. There's a ring at my doorbell, I take off my apron, set the hand blender down, quickly was the batter from my hands and reach for the towel on my way to answer the door. And you're standing there, needing to say nothing, because I know. The look in your eyes, more blinding than a neon sign. You take a step forward and take my hand in yours and lead me away from this mundane, prosaic life towards the life we were meant to have together, but can't.

So much of who I am, I owe to you.

Remember the first night we made love? It was in my very first apartment on Horizon Hill, overlooking the city lights of downtown. It was hot outside but we still left the window opened, lit the candles, layed out my Mickey Mouse blanket.

You touched me like I was made from porcelin. You kissed me with such wanton desire, it consumed me. The whole day built up to this moment, the inevitability of feeling you inside of me- we had to have known. We went from kissing on the big black sofa, to exploring and feeling every inch of eachothers' bodies. Pino Griggio-drunk, in-love-dizzy, skin hot and wet, both filled with such passion. We then found ourselves suddenly on the floor, totally unable and almost unwilling to let eachother go just long enough to remove eachother's underwear. With a single slight movement you slid yourself inside the leg of my boy-shorts and continued to slide all the way inside of me until you couldn't move in anymore. The utter shock and intoxication of feeling you suddenly inside of me was like feeling a bolt of lightening right inside my stomach. An instant orgasm, the first I had ever expereinced from penetration in my entire life.

In the morning, we woke up curled into eachother. Our clothes still off, this time we took our time to touch. I carry it with me everywhere, the image of you on top of me, the insense look from your blue eyes, unable to let me go, burried so very deep inside of me. The glistening sweat on both of our bodies, now, in the transition, getting mixed together as we press ever so hard into one another. You gave me several more orgasms that morning and so began the period of my life where I had been woken up.

You taught me how to love.

You taught me how to live.

The seasons I spent with you taught me more about myself than I could ever care to learn. Through my life of secrets and lies, I somehow learned how to tell you the truth about anything and everything. And I learned that you wanted to listen. It wasn't always easy to tell you the truth, but it was so important to me, because with each thought and secret revealed, the more and more I was letting you in. And I wanted you in me always.

Thank you for always making me laugh. For knowing the exact blend of sweet and low and lemmon to put in my tea. Thank you for always worring about my safety and well being. For getting grossed out everytime I talked about my bodily functions, even though you were in the medical profession. For making where I came from and where I was going the two most important things to you.

Thank you for kissing me, for holding me, for touching me. Thank you for making love to me and for fucking me and for knowing what occasion called for one or the other. Thank you for giving me the best years of my life, the stuff poems are written about, but I actually got to live out. Thank you for my gold claddagh ring and for always insisting that I wear it on my right hand with the heart pointing inward. Thank you for never giving up on me, for never letting go, even though I gave you plenty of reason to. Thank you for slow dancing with me in the rain to absolutely no music. Thank you for singing to me, for giving back to me so much of what had been beaten away.

Thank you for trusting me with the secrets of your life, for taking the chance in me. Thank you for showing me the world, for tasting different wines in different countries, for teaching me our secret language, for showing me my first Monet, for wiping my tears under the Eiffel Tower. Thank you for 'getting' me, for giving me my space when I wanted it and for smothering me with affection when I needed it. For putting your hand in the small of my back everytime we crossed a street or entered a room. Thank you for making me important enough to call me your 'family'. For the lobster dinners we made in my kitchen, for teaching me how to like Snapple.

And thank you for smiling and for your face lighting up everytime you saw me.

Thank you for being THE love of my life, my best friend, and the greatest passion my life has known. I think of you every single day. I miss you imeasuably. And quite honestly, I would do absolutely anything to have you back.

Sometimes, the thoughts of having you back in my life can be so real and so painful that I often find myself having to sit down, burry my face in my hands and take deep breaths. I know you are gone, but I don't know how to let you go. The ache in my heart of missing you so much is paralyzing and if I let it, sometimes it brings me to my knees. The grief of not having eachother in our daily lives is much too great. When that feeling passes, I sometimes find myself smiling and feeling greatful that we were able to have a love like ours- a short period in my life's time that will keep me going for the rest of my days.

I will always love you, Sean.

-N

Things About Me

I love the smell of cigarette smoke and men's cologne in cold weather

I have freckles

It was a dream of mine to argue the finer points of the constitution.

I love giving head

Getting head, well THAT'S another story.

Gardenias are my favorite flowers.

I drink coffee like it's going out of style

I was sexually molested by an uncle

Monet is my favorite artist

I wanted to name my first son Atticus (until my husband threatened to leave me)

If I don't climax at least 3 times a week, I turn into Regan from the Exorcist

You'll find the latest Playboy, National Geographic and Good Housekeeping magazines in my lieu.

I am, by all definitions, a hopeless romantic.

I have been raped.

I once was homeless.

Altruism moves me to tears.

I have been published twice.

I secretly wish I was Jewish.

The dark scares me like nothing else in this world.

I take that back, WALKING STICKS scare me like nothing else in this world.

I am married (feel burried)

I am in love with a married man

I've had sex in the black forest

I double majored in college (European History & Political Science)

I back-packed through Europe after college graduation

My favorite book is "The very hungry catepillar"

My favorite book USED TO BE "The story of O"

I want a boyfriend like Rene

I believe that cheese should own its own food group.

I voted Democrat in the last election.

I am a registered Republican.

I've had sex inside the lieu of the McDonald's in Paris, France.

I grew up poor and lived in a trailer with no heat.

I keep a journal.

I live in tanks, torn jeans and white socks.

I find men who wear glasses terribly attractive.

I don't eat fish.

I've kissed a girl (several actually)

I absolutely LOVE to dance

I've been known to keep a healthy supply of cheap box-regrigerated wine

I love foreign flicks

I am very impatient.

Holding hands makes me warm.

I constantly sigh.

My smile is contagious.

I don't watch television.

I don't and probably never will understand fractions.

I have never broken a heart.

I once shared an elevator with Charles Schwab (my 2yr old is as tall as him!)

I miss sleeping in the nude.

The love of my life was killed in the deserts of Iraq.

I'm sporting a Brazilian Bikini Wax.

My heart is broken.

I find receding hairlines to be quite a turn on.

I love to cook.

I almost drowned in the Gulf of Mexico and was saved by 2 surfer boys.

I love surfers.

My favorite quote is by S. Harris- "Regret for the things we have done will be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable."

I have been punch-drunk-i-want-you-inside-of-me-always in love only twice, I just pretended with everyone else.

I love to read.

Nothing feels as good as lying skin on skin with the man of your dreams.

Nothing, until you give life.

Hi Nikki,

It's me, the older and wiser ME looking back at the younger version of YOU. It's not in your nature, nor has it ever been, to listen to good advice. I'm here, imploring you now to take notes:

Tell someone, anyone, but just tell someone what is happening. Then it will stop. Hiding the bruises will only get you so far. When you're locked in that closet, pissing yourself cold, remember to hold on. Things will get better, I promise you. You think this is bad? Life has a hell of a lot more to swing at you than some big black belt.

Tell Mom that you love her more. Sure, she was a lousy mother, but she's the only one you've got. Besides, she was just 14 when she gave birth to you, she did her best with that little knowledge she had. Trust me, the time you spend critiquing her mothering skills will make you the wonderful mother you always wish you had had.

Don't spend so much time wishing you had more Hello Kitty and Barbie doll stuff. I will buy you all that shit later, on a place called e-Bay.

Read more Judy Bloom.

When it comes time to cut yourself, do us both a fucking favor and take the bottle of pills instead. My God, we're just seeking a little fucking attention, and blood stains. Besides, all this will heed you is another beating and a talking down to about hospital bills. Save us the grief and the scar.

You're not fat. You're strong, you're capable and you're brilliant. You're just a little nerdy. Quit wearing that Don Johnson white jacket all the time and mabye you'll score some vogue friends.

Blue contact lenses? Seriously.

Go ahead and lose your virginity to Ted. If you don't, he'll lose it to some girl he meets later in college who will give him VD. He's your first love, it's appropriate that you should both lose it to eachother. Besides, his was the first beautiful cock we ever saw, and cocks THAT amazing will definitely be few and far between.

Freckles are not dispicable, they are kisses from angels.

When you run away to California, expecting to meet interesting people, prepare yourself- the most interesting person you will meet is you. Living on the street, sleeping in cars, eating from vending machines does amazing things for the soul. Don't you DARE listen to anyone and go running back home to Mommy and Daddy. You stick it out, it will change you for the better. Perserverance, coupled with the strength from climbing through mountains of pain, all will contribute to the beautiful woman you will be.

Go to law school. Do you have any idea how hard it is to solve 'GAMES' when I've been out of college so dammed long?

Spend less time being mad at Sean and more time asking him about his childhood. Ask who it was that raped him. Tell him you're sorry. Encourage him to speak up. Don't hang up on him so much. Let him go down on you more. You'll never meet another man that will eat you out like he will. The time, patience, and skill he uses on you is the same that Da Vinci used his Mona Lisa. Listen to what he has to say, even if you know he's full of shit. When you're sitting outside on that bench on the Champs de'lysses, quit fighting and just grab his hand and kiss it. Go ahead and tell him that he IS the love of your life because he will be. Kiss him more. No man's kisses will ever get you as wet as his do. Stare at his hands longer, trace his lips with your fingers, remember the outline of his face, kiss the back of his neck, you will never get another chance. Instead of leaving early to get some sleep, close down that little Irish pub in Germany you both love so much. Let him teach you how to throw a dart, pretend you still don't understand so that he can stand behind you longer, close your eyes and lock away in memory the feel and warmth of his breath down your neck. Love him without abandon. Have his baby. Have his baby because 5 years after you get pregnant he will die in Iraq, leaving behind no legacy.

Call Grandma more, she did the job of all four grandparents.

Don't mistake admiration for love. Don't mistake love for admiration. You'll marry him, you'll love him, but you will have to lose a lot of yourself in the process. He will spend the rest of his life trying to make you happy, only problem is, the things that make you happy aren't for sale. He'll contribute half to two of the best things you'll create in your life, and he will be a damn good father. He'll be a good lover, a good provider, a good man, and he'll always remember to bring you edelweis. Hang on to him and TRY not to fuck it up, if you do, you will spend the rest of your life regretting it.

Teach the boys how to speak Spanish. Practical skills can be hot, unexpected ones can be sexy. Teach them all the things you learned that made you independent. Independence is underrated.

I wish I could promise you that you had an easy life ahead of you, but you don't. You'll fall in love with men who will hit you, cheat on you and tell you that you're a fucking waste of space. These experiences will better equip you for picking out the 'real' men and loves of your life. And mom and dad won't seek forgiveness until you're almost in your mid thirties, and when they do, a part of that darkness you held inside of you for so long will make way for light. And your sister will break your heart and your brother will break your trust, but never stop loving them.

I will see you climb over mountains of pain nobody could ever know exists. I wish I could say I'd have you do it all over again, but it would be a lie. The endurance and courage these events will fortify you with will make you the strong-willed, beautiful woman that I am today. Everything will be fine. We will be fine, I promise.

Enjoy the ride and quit worrying so much about the destination. Drink less soda. Excersise more. Love yourself. I am proud of you.

I love you,
Nikki