The Fiery Quill

All my life, I've been a little on the thin side. My clothes have usually been a tad too big, my collar bone prominent. But lately, I've noticed that my pants are a bit snug. This is, I admit, a foreign concept. Especially the part where I (cover your eyes, parents)actually have what they refer to as cleavage . I always saw extra weight as the enemy, uncharted territory I never wanted to navigate. But now, this unfamiliar five pounds is starting to feel...well, familiar. I like the way I look with a more womanly shape. It feels good to be content with a slightly swelled version of myself, a reality I never thought I'd welcome. Whatever the reason (being in my thirties?), I hope I continue to have a rosier impression when I look in the mirror.

Blackness of screen. Cold. Blank. Unyielding as a 100-year-old tree trunk to a toy hatchet. Glittering blue lights wink from the keyboard, evidence of life within. Mr. Gates, where do I find the missing puzzle piece? How do I unlock the impenetrable surface? It hides my words, music, sunsets over Mexican beaches. Blank. Cold. Blackness of screen.

Anyone who knows me, is aware that I have had a lot of boyfriends since I was old enough to date. Some might even call me boy crazy. I am secure in admitting these things because I am very aware of who I am. It is part of my personality that I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, or rather, tattooed on my naked arm. I recently had a female "friend" make fun of my hopeless romantic alter-ego. I have been guilty of wishing aloud that each new beau is The One. She pointed this out to me in front of audience (we all know people who do their best work this way) with a decisive sneer in her tone. Although cruel, her point did make me think about the nature of love and the all-important quest for the Holy Grail of partnerships: the nacho to my cheese, the peanut butter to my jelly, the sugar to my coffee....that person who will still be with me when my idea of sexy is elastic-waist pants and flannel nightgowns. I am ok with the cruel jokes at my expense. Hoping that each new boyfrien...

In an age where everything is seemingly driven by sex, true male-female friendships reach mythical proportions. It appears that I am one of the few who has captured this elusive phoenix of a relationship. Matthew and I have been best friends for the better part of a decade. Our friendship began with a chance meeting in a coffee shop during that carefree summer of 1999. Despite distance and time, the closeness we have has never wavered. We have seen each other through an array of failed romances, disappointments and unthinkable heartache. I can comfortably speak for both of us, when I say that Matthew and I can talk about anything. This fact, coupled with our loyalty, ensures that we will be friends for the rest of our lives. This remarkable friendship has become a testing point for new romances. We have deduced that, if a future (or current) partner can accept our platonic union and befriend the other one...then they are a worthy lover. And in every case, this has been a valid litmus t...