QUALITY TIME

My success on the love scale has been a story of wins and losses, but mostly it's been about mistrials. I've always thought life was about figuring it out and then living it. Somehow if you planned it out accordingly and everything was then in place---"your life" would happen. Of course, I used this plan with Liz Taylor precision in garnering what I considered my greatest dream--- a HUSBAND.

You name the type of man; this serial monogamist has had him. Everyone from artists to scientists, blondes to brunettes, blue eyes to brown, skinny to musclebound--- a variety of wonderful men have taught me the pleasures and horrors of love. Sometimes I think my love life looks like some kind of roadside attraction off the Interstate where this pinstriped ex-con who performs in drag at the local bar on Wednesdays after 11 screams, "Step right up and see the biggest freak show in town."

My romantic interludes have lasted anywhere from one weekend to almost 6 years, and now at the ripe age of 35, I'm beginning to see some patterns that may portend some hope and knowledge for the future.

Besides having to pass my personal checklist (sense of humor, good-looking, volunteerism, athletic, knows the capitol of New Mexico), I'm realizing he needs some of the following traits:

1. Become all encompassing, so much so that I can assume relationship responsibility for BOTH of us.

2. To fall in love with the idea of falling in love with me--- but really have no idea who I truly am.

3. Repeat the same jokes my closest platonic friends have told me in a desperate attempt to make me laugh again.

4. Want to have sex whenever I start to cry.

5. Take care of me.

Oh sure, there are other special bonus points, like kissing with the eyes open, making love in sunlight, knowing how to cook with garlic, or sitting in the first 10 rows of a movie theatre. But as I get older, I'm realizing perhaps some list items no longer serve me and that it's strictly the basics which are the most appealing. Like? Sitting in silence on the beach, running around a children's sandbox playground on a Saturday night, riding hotel glass elevators up and down, elbows touching on a single armrest, and that single moment when you look at each other after a laugh or a cry or a talk--- and you know that just spending time with that person is ENOUGH.

I have a friend who declared, "You only keep what you give away." Perhaps that's why she gave millions of dollars throughout her lifetime to charity before finally dying of cancer. It seemed simple enough. She had more than she needed, why not give it away?

I'm learning love is a lot like money, not quite as tangible, and unfortunately, not as popular. But before I continue on this journey of the husband hunt, perhaps I should take a look at and love the one person that I continue to give away the most--- myself. After all, it's probably the one relationship I've completely underestimated and always felt was together only when it was being planned or shared by someone else.

I hear there are places now where you can get a rubber mold made of your penis, allowing gay men for the first time to truly fuck themselves over. Hey, now THAT'S a Christmas gift.

I'll show you mine if you show me yours--- but I think right now I may need to spend some quality time by myself. And when I'm ready, perhaps I'll start hanging around hotel glass elevators. I figure, hey, someone, somewhere, will want to take the ride.