I spoke for a long while tonight, with a gentleman from San Diego. (nothing sexual or even close, get your mind out of the gutter) He mentioned tattoos and I asked him about them. He mentioned that one was to commemorate his first crossing of the equator.

*laughs quietly* Immediately I was hooked into the conversation.

I remember looking at the pictures from various Wog-Days. My husband had many of them. I remember one picture in particular. Dennis (Duncan's friend) was crossing the equator for the first time, so he was a Wog. And, he had to run the gamut, so to speak, before he could become a "trusty Shellback".

*laughs*

I know that that stuff doesn't make any sense to you unless you're familiar with the Navy. Regardless... the part that I'm commenting for/because of... Damn that sentence structure sucks major ass.

The reason I brought all that Wog Day stuff up is:

It's a pleasant memory of my ex. I can remember the look in his eyes when he told me about it the first time. We were about a month or two engaged. I can't remember where we were sitting, but I was watching his eyes and they sparkled so brilliantly.

I miss that. Not necessarily from him specifically, though I would love to see a light in his eyes again... some life... something.

Regardless... I miss having a conversation with someone and seeing their empassioned state. Being able to see how much fun they had, simply by seeing the sparkle in their eyes. I miss having a good, long conversation with ... someone like Phil. I would sit and just watch his eyes for ever. Well, okay, not forever, but still...

I miss seeing that connection. I miss seeing that just because I'm there... a man smiles.

At one time, Duncan was a very good man.

I miss that part of him. And, I'm glad that I had the conversation with this kid tonight, because it reminded me of the good parts of Duncan. It reminded me of the parts I really liked. The parts that died.

I know that sounds somewhat depressing, or perhaps it sounds like I'm lonesome for Duncan and want him back.

*smiles softly*

No. I don't want him back. And I don't mind the fact that I haven't been within 50 yards of him in more than six months. But it's really nice to have a happy memory of him.

As selfish as it sounds, I suppose that I feel better knowing that at one time, I liked a man who was something special. You know, rather than having fallen for an unemployed musician (yes, I know, those are usually synonymous) who drank too much and beat up his girlfriends, I fell for a man who honestly and truly wanted to be everything I could ever need.

He was a good man at one time. Just as I was a good woman at one time. And I'm becoming a good woman again. With a nice, pleasant memory of my ex.

I'm not angry with you Duncan. I hate your motherfuckingasswipesnotnosedprissyasscumgurglingasswhore of choice. But I'm not angry with you at all. I'm happy you're a Shellback, Duncan. More power to ya.

PS

25 more wishes *waggles her brows*