My arm's broken but I'm still writing...

That's dedication, folks. ... Okay, so my arm isn't, like, freshly broken. But I did shatter it in a dozen places a decade ago and it still hurts like the dickens some mornings. It hurts like hell today. Sympathy, dammit! I want sympathy!

Receiving Rosa's wonderful email Friday, nearly compelled me to stay home, drinking and smoking. Even the most optimistic person out there (and after four years, there aren't many left) would probably insist there wasn't a chance in hell she'd ever take me back. I usually meet this with a little self-destruction.

This time was different.

I went out with Karrie. We decided on dinner and a movie. I picked her up at 6:30pm and we went to see "Lost in Translation", a wonderful film. I would recommend this to everyone. We really enjoyed it. After, we went to Macaroni Grill for dinner. (Macaroni Grill? Who grills macaroni? Honestly! Who?!)

It would have been a pretty normal evening... except... sitting one table over was this woman. I thought I recognized her. I said to Karrie, "This is going to sound strange but I swear that woman over there is my eighth-grade english teacher." She asked if I was going to introduce myself but I wasn't about to make a fool of myself - what if I was wrong? Then, she got up and I asked the woman she sat with, "Excuse me, is that Mrs. Wright?" It was! When she returned, I introduced myself and she remembered me right away. She was the first teacher who encouraged me to be a writer and it was very satisfying to let her know that I write for a living.

Then, she asked me if I had finished college. When I told her I'd only an Associate's degree, she started to lecture - I felt 12! - and I had to turn away from Karrie and explain that I'd help put my wife through school and had then gone through a painful divorce. I would return to finish my degree but I was presently working on finding my place again.

Karrie and I eventually had dinner - I felt bad, having not expected Mrs. Wright to go on as she had - and it was very nice, not stressful or nervous, and I returned her home at 11pm. Walking her up to her door, I nearly went for the hug goodnight, as I'd been doing. I noticed, though, that while I'd been going for the hug, Karrie hadn't been. I thought for a second, "Oh, heck, Ken. It's your third date. Why not?" and kissed her.

It wasn't a bad kiss and it wasn't the kind that curls your toes. It was just nice, which was what I was hoping for. I've had the passionate relationships that burn hot and burn fast. They end up hurt more than they're worth. I could use a relationship that starts slowly. I'd like to get to know someone before we break up, for a change.

Maybe this time.