Delirium Days Part 20

Hello, friend. I’m Seven, and this is my blog. Frowback Fridays are reserved for looking back in time, to less-happy days. This series, dubbed Delirium Days, is nearing its end. It has been a retrospective of the sad state of my life before pursuing emotional and psychological freedom outside the United States. On this day in 2007, I had a chance encounter that might well have been the thing that prompted my escape.

“Sunday, May 13, 2007 Current mood:  hopeful

Good things come to those who wade

Get this, America.  So my last blog involved the notion of love, and passing up said love to see what might wash up on the beach at a later date.

Well today was a later date.

This afternoon, I’m doing my usual 3 mile walk-3 mile run at Zuma, and I’m nearing the Point when suddenly this beautiful brunette jogs past in a pink bikini.  I didn’t see her face, but the rest of her–Whoa!  So I speed up, and after about a hundred yards she turns around.  I get up close, she’s all smiles, so I start in with my shtick–you know, chatting her up, being my usual charming self–and I’m just about to give her the line that no woman can resist when WHAM!  I realize it’s Brooke Burns, supermodel extraordinaire, and I’m suddenly tongue-tied.  You see America, if you knew me and my track record, you’d understand.  I’m cursed.  The Good Lord hates me, or rather loves to see me get egg on my face.  So when I realize it’s Brooke Burns, my first instinct is to look for the hidden camera that’s about to capture my humiliation.

But surprisingly, she’s very sweet, and even more surprisingly, my mouth doesn’t produce anything to fuck the situation up.  And the long and short of it was, much to my great pleasure, that neither of us wanted to continue running alone.  Not that I could concentrate on a workout with her nearby.  I think I even forgot to breathe for about half an hour.  Good Lord, what perfection!  I know she’s almost my age, but she looked 18.  Flawless.  And teeth that could signal ships from a lighthouse window.  I thought my heart would melt into my ankles.  And after seeing her, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to look at another woman and not wince, so immaculate was this miracle of dna.  It was all I could do not to propose on the spot.

And when it was over, she casually turned and asked, “So…see you tomorrow? Same time same place?” I nodded, swallowing hard. So now, whether I see her again is, I suppose, up to me.  Scary thought.  I have half a mind to just forget it ever happened and leave it at that.  But she was a sight for sore eyes.  And I am in good enough shape to run that route with her every day.  Do I dare to dream of something so ambitious for myself?

I’m at a loss for how to proceed.

Honestly, I have little doubt that while this amazing event hums like electricity in my synapses, it’s only a matter of time before I ruin it, or it dissolves into nothing, or worse yet, it blossoms and flourishes only to fade or implode at some later date, leaving me destitute and with no hope of ever finding a woman to equal her.  Maybe I should just let whimpering dogs lie, or better yet, euthanize them now, put them out of their misery, or ecstasy, whichever.  I’m no fool, I know my place and it’s with less-stellar satellites.  Maybe I should’ve titled this blog “the one that got away” and spent an hour waxing moronic with “Old Man and the Sea” metaphors.

I don’t know.  Should anyone who has lost as big as I have dare to dream that big again?  I just don’t know, America.

Any suggestions?”

I went back to that same spot the next day, and the day after that and the day after that, and never encountered Brooke again. But it gave me a boost of confidence and optimism (confimism for short, copyright BKK7), enough so that I found the courage to say “yes” to a job overseas, a decision that catapulted me around the world twice, eventually coming to rest in Thailand. Flash forward to 2020, and this former sad sack is happy every minute of every day, with a different gorgeous girl every night.

Actually, don’t flash forward. My next frowback series will be a short record of my first year’s exploit abroad, which wasn’t in Asia but of all places the UK. Tune in for that 2 weeks from now, after the 21st and final entry of Delirium Days next week. And between now and then, raise a glass to a life less-ordinary, made so by having the balls to leave one’s home country and venture out into the wide, wild world. Cheers!