Recently, an acquaintance asked if I might be concerned about people’s perceptions of me after reading this blog. I’d be foolish not to answer yes. To some degree. But after years of writing my thoughts and feelings, it would be foolish to harbor any regret either. It is what it is. While many of us are trying to put our best foot forward, I also go into each day with an attitude of fuck it. Authenticity isn’t simply an idea. Like love, authenticity should be a verb. Hiding behind some mask of perception has only led me to sorrow and grief. What you see is what you get. Mmmostly.

40% of me never shows up on this blog. The depths of my hopes, fears and aspirations do not live here. Not completely. Any foreboding sense of loss and rejection can certainly be discussed but never laid bare. I easily write my thoughts about sex, the negotiation and mechanics of the whole mess, but definitely not the truest intimacies. The filter that exists between the idea and the actual moments spent in my arms is vast. Though I postulate the ups and downs of former relationships, the successes and failures of my businesses, my feelings about the world around me, marriage, divorce, dating.. there is a largesse of the private me I choose never to announce openly. Raw humanity. Luckily, at the moment, there is very little dramatic tension in my life and I really like it this way.

It has taken decades to learn that my self-worth cannot be tied to what I’ve produced or created, otherwise the need for approval will erode the most creative bits. In my writing for sure but also in my daily tasks. Experience is a great teacher. When I first began duross & langel, there was this amazing response to the product, but also to me as a maker. People seemed to love what I was attempting. Over time however, some did not. I wasn’t ready for success because what I had created was too personal to me. It’s been that way with every project. No matter what I do, what I try to control, everything is a process of letting go. I am ashamed to admit that I was not always my best self along the way. As I pursued my hopes and dreams, who I was, who I am comes into play. When scrutinizing our missteps, it’s helpful to remember that there is light and darkness in everyone. Self forgiveness has been key to me moving forward, seeking opportunities to spread love and then allowing myself to receive love in return.

Dating is teaching me patience. Often when I match with a guy there is interest and flirting but then they start backing up. “Life is busy. I am busy. You’ve caught me at a busy time..” The cry of the unavailable man. Brave with his swipe finger but timid when it comes to meeting. At the heart of the issue, I think everyone wants some kind of a connection, however it manifests itself. Anyway, it’s just a date right? If you’re not interested in actually knowing me, chatting with me or fucking me, just swipe left. Nothing personal.

Admittedly I date for the flavor of romance. Yes, that also includes my sex apps. Doesn’t have to be all-consuming-passion-clinging-love-me-forever kind of romance. More like an occasional snogging and maybe a bit of sex before I send them packing. A week perhaps under extreme circumstances. Beyond that? If the chemistry is good, three or four times a month with a steady guy who lives about an hour or two away. Enough to enjoy a healthy romping intimacy until something, if anything, develops down the road. Friends ask me what I want in a man. I have a good idea but no definitive answer. I trust myself to know what I don’t want, but that is not the energy I want to be sending out into the world. My profile says I am looking for kindness, humor and courage. Sometimes in the arena of dating these qualities are in short supply. I guess it all comes back to the conversation about vulnerability. Standing naked in front of a complete stranger and risking rejection once they get to know you. Yet everything I’ve ever achieved, anyone I’ve ever loved was worth the emotional risk. And because of this I have a wonderful life, my independence, peace of mind and I still maintain most of my dignity.

Speaking of dignity.. forty-nine days to go until the cruise. If you’ve followed along, you know that I’ve gotten really into the whole process of preparation for this vacation. Theme parties, meet and greets, chat groups, etc. Instead of obsessing about the closing of the salon and grooming lounge and what I like to refer to as my semi-retirement, I think about things like correct luggage tag holders, boarding times, restaurants, T- Dances, appropriate clothing (or inappropriate depending upon the party), itineraries and wearing a speedo. It’s actually been a blessing as the whole process keeps me from spending too much time alone in my head. I am (I believe) as prepared as a person can be. To all of my friends who have been listening to me go on about this trip for the last year.. sorry to have taken so long. Thank you for listening. And thank you for being my friend.

Henry and Emily are fast approaching the end of their life cycle. For more than a year their kidneys have been failing. Walking them around the block is becoming a laborious chore. Soon I will be forced to make the inevitable decision. It’s a matter of perspective. I won’t adopt without first acknowledging my responsibility at the end. Being their human is a simple brief: love them, give them food and shelter, and protect them from all harm.

One day very soon my life will be vastly different, and I am left wondering if everything I’ve been doing this past year has been to prepare me for what is yet to come.