Recently I spoke of a woman that has turned my ears wide open. We will call her Raven Hair for the story. (This is not just becaue I don't know her name, but because most people don't like to know you are writing about them...at least until the end of the story).

Its been a year or more and we have not spoken more than two words to one another, but it is obvious that we desire more. So I gave her my card. I was amused at the idea that as I picked up my favorite sin: I handed her a card that discloses my occupation~In disclosing my occupation I tell a lot, a lot that would not have been said on the first date.

I tell her how I am a believer in Jesus and that I am an artist and because I am picking up ciggaretts for the past year I have been having problems with my faith. ( I suppose any faith worth having is the one that is tested): We always find ways to justify and clean up our faces, escepially when we want to make a good impression. With Raven Hair I did not worry about impressions and it felt nice to let my hair down.

I asked about her vacation from work: ( She enjoyed it.)  Welll we all enjoy vacations.

She asked about my own and I told her I never release.

I never get a vacation and hear is why, I hand her my card. Despite my ciggerettes she has always wanted a way to reach me and because I am a man I have to be the first to make the move. (It is written in stone somewhere that in the dance of flashing eyes and moving lips, nothing will further take place in the relations of man and woman until the man makes the move.) I knew it was a safe move a year ago. (Handing her my card I mean).

I am just so different from the man that I used to be...at least I would like to think...

I have this pain in my heart when I dream of her black hair in my hands and the scent of her, the feel of her. To know we could never marry, let alone date. We could do nothing save for speak and even the speaking with her the she calls me sweetie sets me to dreaming of the way she tastes.

In hopes of never committing a sin...denoucing fornication, one night stands, even a blow job. I must purge her from my mind...That is until I see her again and hear the words that tickle my fancy....

SWEETIE.

I defend her by suggesting there is nothing to it. It is a term of endearment placed upon every man that walks through the door and it is her job that requires cheerieness and that smile. If not me, any other man would hear her whisper "sweetie,'" upon there departure.  Any other man...

I gave her to card and departed~Did not tell her to look me up, did not ask her to call and cared not for further engagment. If I can not give her what she desires, what more can be expected of our knowing eachother.

You know I've lived in the south so long, I really know better than to allow this word..."Sweetie," to get the best of me.

"Sweetie."

It has always been a simple social expression, nothing was ever to be inferred from it. Women really are safe to share it~This term of endearment~with anyone they choose. I could never tell you why I look forward to hearing it~very laughable to find I can still be made to blush.

Her defense: She is just as social with others as she is with me.

WHY DID YOU GIVE HER YOUR CARD!!??

Because she called me "sweetie."

You know you are a putz right?

I am certian nothing will come of it~She will never read a colmn or seek to know the man that never pays her mind, besides hello and good bye.

In this game of flashing eyes and dancing lips are men alone in these thoughts of arousal? I am made to wonder is she goes home regretting not speaking beyond the words of, "sweetie;" does she not feel torment in her fingers is not being able to touch?

Does she wrestle in her mind or am I no different than any other guy and in time will I pass from her mind as she is made to blush for another, "Sweetie?"