journalman's Diaryland Diary


PetBuddy, Clock, Trampout, and Pre- Bday

I'm home now. It's 8:20 PM, and I realize for certain that I want to spend more evenings in the comfort of my own habitat.


I've been spending nights with Petbuddy, we'll call her. She and I both are licking our own wounds & sorting out our own affairs in our personal lives. And we're friends; we've managed to become strong friends since we met in early Summer. So after many fun & friendful summer weekends spent together, we added 'that physical dimension' to our friendship.

And thus since, I've spent many-a-night there. She has a lovely apartment in Murray Hill that I commute to 3 or 4 nights per week.

Sometimes I snore, ok? It happens. She always wakes me up to ask me if I’d ‘just roll over’.

Roll over? Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea how precise and well-intentioned my physical placement is right before I fall asleep? There are muscles that need to be stretched, so I'd tilt or place a pillow accordingly. I make an attempt, that if I lay on my side, to maintain an equal number of right-side and left-side leanings so as not to get a curvy spine.

There's breathing. I want to get into a groove with it. I want to dream well instead of struggle to fall asleep because my right shoulder hurts.

Good god, woman, we've been having sex all night, and I really, really want to fall asleep RIGHT HERE.

I fear that while she stresses her belief that we are in an non-commital situation, that she wants much more with me. I'm flattered by it.... she's a fun friend. We have a lot of great times together, though as she ‘likes me more and more’, the good times are sadly waning. It’s why I don't want any more than we have already, and I fear that what we once enjoyed so effortlessly has an expiration date of its own.

She's a bit of a partier and a free spirit. She's upstanding and lives nicely, so you might even think she's got her shit together. But she doesn't mind 'the club drugs' and she seems to believe there is nothing wrong with 'meeting for a drink' every live-long day.

Broken down, that means she doesn't think there's anything wrong with seeing me every day. And it also means that she's perfectly ok with v0dka martlnls every day. And ecstasy every weekend. She who carries blow in a plastic lipstick-shaped bullet to bring to the bathroom with oneself to do 'a blast' is definitely not my idea of 'the one'.

You'd never know it if you met her. She is serene, sweet, and mild-mannered. (just like my ex-girlfriend) And just like my ex-girlfriend, this revealed a certain level of functioning manifested itself, among other ways, as immediate disinterest whenever I'd talk about politics, world affairs or eventful happenstances in my workday.

"You're not going to talk about work again, are you?" She said once. I don't tell BORING work stories, you know. I tell great ones.

Except as I'm halfway through the first sentence, she's already looking to change the TV station or really do anything BESIDES listen to the story.

And then she'd say "I'm sorry... I'm not following. Can you start from the beginning? I'm listening!" And then she has a few drinks and looks over very soulfully to ask if I’d ever consider becoming Jewish for the right person. Oy vey. I’m 30 years old and for once in my life, I want to have a normal, casual-sex relationship with a friend. Is this too much to ask for?

So yes. Despite physical chemistry and 55% of the time when we are talking and laughing and having a grand time, I’m “just not that into” her, despite her hope that I simply was. I’m amazed that women in similar situations sometimes wonder why their men ‘just won’t commit’.


While I haven’t bee in contact with Tramp these past few months, I’d always kinda missed her. She recently made a very brief visitation, and I quickly realized she’s very much the same walking nightmare she always was. We didn’t even meet in person this last time; that’s how magnetically opposed we are to each other.

Her brief return, as exciting as it was, served the spark that ignited ablaze any last desire I had to ever see her again. Tramp = Done. Over. Finito. It’s a wrap. Haven’t thought about her since (this was about 1 week ago...).


I’d enjoyed a fairly cool clock radio for the past few years. It had a warm blue light that shone over its black LED display, and even boasted dual alarm which I think is a nice thing to have. About a month ago, it began to fail out on me, and I limped along using my cellphone until just this past weekend.

I found myself in an Upstate, NY W@l-M@rt and I marched directly to the small electronics section. And there it was... a masterpiece of modern mini-architecture. Sleek black clock with actual warm-blue LED and brushed-metal touches for added decor. 2 zones, no doubt, but also a CD player(!) that allows me to select which track I want to wake up to.

In the age of supertechnology, this doesn’t sound like a big deal. After all, we’re talking about a ten dollar upgrade from a garden-variety clock radio. However it is a VERY big deal to be able to wake up to “Que hora son mi corazon” at 6:45 AM instead of playing roulette with the FM morning shows.

Best ten dollar upgrade I’ve ever made.


Out of the 6 male friends I’ve introduced roommate to, she’s slept with 5. One is engaged. I’ve newly reconciled with Barnes, and as it would go, she’s spending yet another night at his apartment this evening.

At first, she complemented me one at a time for my cool guy friends. Good guys. But now, she refers to them as an entire class. Mensch... fresh, prime cuts of raw man blessed by me, the local rabbi.

I asked Roommate the other day if she had any intention, whatsoever, of attending my wedding should that day ever come. She queried why, and I said “because so far, you’ve slept with the entire groom’s party”. She replied, “Awesome. I’ll drive the limo, then.”

She’s in.


I got myself a winter’s haircut today. No more surfer’s wave brimming my forehead and a #2 fade, this winter for me will be about bangs, choppy longer top and a #3 job around the back.

I fell from my fitness routine, somewhat. I think during the tramp-mourn stage, I was withdrawn, less active, and more lazy all around. I ate more, I exercised less, and I’ve been taking a lot of cabs.

So today, I’m freshly groomed complete with emerging double chin. I do this yearly, it seems, about a month before my birthday. And then I go back to the gym and pay attention to what I eat some time right after I clock another year. I turn 31 before the end of November. I’m solidly 30-something.


“You betta have a plan when you cross that bridge... Welcome to Br00klyn, put yo lightaz up...”

“We be burnin not concernin what anybody wanna say... legalize it, it’s time to recognize it”


“Maybe I would respect her if she charged money for it.” – Meez

“The weather is getting colder, and let’s face it. People don’t put scarves on to go see a person if that person doesn’t make them blush.” – A CL ad I wrote

10:11 p.m. - 2005-11-17


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