Heart Matters on Valentine's Day

[Guest guest]

Hello everyone:

I hope you're all doing well.

Here it is Valentine's Day, and there is part of me that hates it.

I'm feeling like the day is just a reminder that I haven't yet found

love. Or have I?

As I ran this morning, the loveliness of San Francisco once again

wrapped me in a warm embrace. But as I contemplated the beauty

around me, my heart was feeling unspoken questions.

Why is that full moon so magnificent? Why does the pounding of the

waves crashing against the shore call out to my soul? Why is that

pink sunrise so achingly beautiful? Why is the song of the birds

like music fit for angels? Why does the mid-winter spring weather

give me energy for enjoying life? Yet the unspoken questions

persist. Where is he? Who is he? When will he come in my life?

When will I share this wonder with someone who will hold my hand for

a day, an hour, a lifetime?

On Sunday I met Steve. We noticed each other at Starbucks. I

couldn't help notice that he was looking at me. At first, I turned

around to look behind me to see if he was actually looking at someone

else, but there was only a wall. I mustered up the courage to

smile. He smiled back.

How do I do justice to Steve's look? He is handsome, slim and wiry.

His look is entirely masculine: bronzed olive-hued skin, short salt

and pepper hair, ice blue eyes, strong nose, mustache, chiseled

square chin, seemingly zero percent body fat, defined chest, six pack

abs, hairy forearms, thick manly fingers, beautiful hands.

Steve is 5'5 " . Yes, he's a little guy, but then again, I'm only

5'8 " . The proportions of his body, however, are wonderfully balanced

like a masterwork of Michelangelo. The flow of his physique—angle to

angle, muscle to muscle— is classic. And he possesses that magical

surprise sometimes found in a man's physicality: the juxtaposition

of hard and soft—the hard angles softened by the smooth texture of

silken skin. Let's just say, Steve is easy on the eyes, and even

easier on the hands.

After we had smiled at each other a few times, he approached my table

and asked if he could join me. He sat down, and we began an easily

flowing conversation that enchanted and surprised us both with its

depth and ease. There were moments of seriousness peppered with a

flirtatious humor that lightened the mood and signaled mutual

interest.

We established that we were both single, both living in San

Francisco, and both interested in seeing each other again. We

exchanged phone numbers, and just as I arrived home, my cell phone

rang. It was Steve. We talked about everything and nothing until

2:30 in the morning.

To be continued...

[Guest guest]

Hello everyone:

I hope you're all doing well.

Here it is Valentine's Day, and there is part of me that hates it.

I'm feeling like the day is just a reminder that I haven't yet found

love. Or have I?

As I ran this morning, the loveliness of San Francisco once again

wrapped me in a warm embrace. But as I contemplated the beauty

around me, my heart was feeling unspoken questions.

Why is that full moon so magnificent? Why does the pounding of the

waves crashing against the shore call out to my soul? Why is that

pink sunrise so achingly beautiful? Why is the song of the birds

like music fit for angels? Why does the mid-winter spring weather

give me energy for enjoying life? Yet the unspoken questions

persist. Where is he? Who is he? When will he come in my life?

When will I share this wonder with someone who will hold my hand for

a day, an hour, a lifetime?

On Sunday I met Steve. We noticed each other at Starbucks. I

couldn't help notice that he was looking at me. At first, I turned

around to look behind me to see if he was actually looking at someone

else, but there was only a wall. I mustered up the courage to

smile. He smiled back.

How do I do justice to Steve's look? He is handsome, slim and wiry.

His look is entirely masculine: bronzed olive-hued skin, short salt

and pepper hair, ice blue eyes, strong nose, mustache, chiseled

square chin, seemingly zero percent body fat, defined chest, six pack

abs, hairy forearms, thick manly fingers, beautiful hands.

Steve is 5'5 " . Yes, he's a little guy, but then again, I'm only

5'8 " . The proportions of his body, however, are wonderfully balanced

like a masterwork of Michelangelo. The flow of his physique—angle to

angle, muscle to muscle— is classic. And he possesses that magical

surprise sometimes found in a man's physicality: the juxtaposition

of hard and soft—the hard angles softened by the smooth texture of

silken skin. Let's just say, Steve is easy on the eyes, and even

easier on the hands.

After we had smiled at each other a few times, he approached my table

and asked if he could join me. He sat down, and we began an easily

flowing conversation that enchanted and surprised us both with its

depth and ease. There were moments of seriousness peppered with a

flirtatious humor that lightened the mood and signaled mutual

interest.

We established that we were both single, both living in San

Francisco, and both interested in seeing each other again. We

exchanged phone numbers, and just as I arrived home, my cell phone

rang. It was Steve. We talked about everything and nothing until

2:30 in the morning.

To be continued...

[Guest guest]

Best of luck Francisco! He is there, whether or

not his name is Steve. Take care of you, and

trust that when the time is right, what is supposed to happen will.

Gotta say, I am SO glad I'm not dating! I

remember those days. They were fun, but I'm glad

for the security I have now. Kinda like looking

back on high school or a time that was fun, but

you've grown past it. You can look back on it and

smile, but appreciate that you aren't in the middle of it any more!

Hope that made sense. If not, blame it on the

fact that I haven't drunk my coffee yet!

At 20:34 02/14/2006, you wrote:

>Hello everyone:

>

>I hope you're all doing well.

>

>Here it is Valentine's Day, and there is part of me that hates it.

>I'm feeling like the day is just a reminder that I haven't yet found

>love. Or have I?

>

>As I ran this morning, the loveliness of San Francisco once again

>wrapped me in a warm embrace. But as I contemplated the beauty

>around me, my heart was feeling unspoken questions.

>

>Why is that full moon so magnificent? Why does the pounding of the

>waves crashing against the shore call out to my soul? Why is that

>pink sunrise so achingly beautiful? Why is the song of the birds

>like music fit for angels? Why does the mid-winter spring weather

>give me energy for enjoying life? Yet the unspoken questions

>persist. Where is he? Who is he? When will he come in my life?

>When will I share this wonder with someone who will hold my hand for

>a day, an hour, a lifetime?

>

>On Sunday I met Steve. We noticed each other at Starbucks. I

>couldn't help notice that he was looking at me. At first, I turned

>around to look behind me to see if he was actually looking at someone

>else, but there was only a wall. I mustered up the courage to

>smile. He smiled back.

>

>How do I do justice to Steve's look? He is handsome, slim and wiry.

>His look is entirely masculine: bronzed olive-hued skin, short salt

>and pepper hair, ice blue eyes, strong nose, mustache, chiseled

>square chin, seemingly zero percent body fat, defined chest, six pack

>abs, hairy forearms, thick manly fingers, beautiful hands.

>

>Steve is 5'5 " . Yes, he's a little guy, but then again, I'm only

>5'8 " . The proportions of his body, however, are wonderfully balanced

>like a masterwork of Michelangelo. The flow of his physique—angle to

>angle, muscle to muscle— is classic. And he possesses that magical

>surprise sometimes found in a man's physicality: the juxtaposition

>of hard and soft—the hard angles softened by the smooth texture of

>silken skin. Let's just say, Steve is easy on the eyes, and even

>easier on the hands.

>

>After we had smiled at each other a few times, he approached my table

>and asked if he could join me. He sat down, and we began an easily

>flowing conversation that enchanted and surprised us both with its

>depth and ease. There were moments of seriousness peppered with a

>flirtatious humor that lightened the mood and signaled mutual

>interest.

>

>We established that we were both single, both living in San

>Francisco, and both interested in seeing each other again. We

>exchanged phone numbers, and just as I arrived home, my cell phone

>rang. It was Steve. We talked about everything and nothing until

>2:30 in the morning.

>

>To be continued...

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

Best of luck Francisco! He is there, whether or

not his name is Steve. Take care of you, and

trust that when the time is right, what is supposed to happen will.

Gotta say, I am SO glad I'm not dating! I

remember those days. They were fun, but I'm glad

for the security I have now. Kinda like looking

back on high school or a time that was fun, but

you've grown past it. You can look back on it and

smile, but appreciate that you aren't in the middle of it any more!

Hope that made sense. If not, blame it on the

fact that I haven't drunk my coffee yet!

At 20:34 02/14/2006, you wrote:

>Hello everyone:

>

>I hope you're all doing well.

>

>Here it is Valentine's Day, and there is part of me that hates it.

>I'm feeling like the day is just a reminder that I haven't yet found

>love. Or have I?

>

>As I ran this morning, the loveliness of San Francisco once again

>wrapped me in a warm embrace. But as I contemplated the beauty

>around me, my heart was feeling unspoken questions.

>

>Why is that full moon so magnificent? Why does the pounding of the

>waves crashing against the shore call out to my soul? Why is that

>pink sunrise so achingly beautiful? Why is the song of the birds

>like music fit for angels? Why does the mid-winter spring weather

>give me energy for enjoying life? Yet the unspoken questions

>persist. Where is he? Who is he? When will he come in my life?

>When will I share this wonder with someone who will hold my hand for

>a day, an hour, a lifetime?

>

>On Sunday I met Steve. We noticed each other at Starbucks. I

>couldn't help notice that he was looking at me. At first, I turned

>around to look behind me to see if he was actually looking at someone

>else, but there was only a wall. I mustered up the courage to

>smile. He smiled back.

>

>How do I do justice to Steve's look? He is handsome, slim and wiry.

>His look is entirely masculine: bronzed olive-hued skin, short salt

>and pepper hair, ice blue eyes, strong nose, mustache, chiseled

>square chin, seemingly zero percent body fat, defined chest, six pack

>abs, hairy forearms, thick manly fingers, beautiful hands.

>

>Steve is 5'5 " . Yes, he's a little guy, but then again, I'm only

>5'8 " . The proportions of his body, however, are wonderfully balanced

>like a masterwork of Michelangelo. The flow of his physique—angle to

>angle, muscle to muscle— is classic. And he possesses that magical

>surprise sometimes found in a man's physicality: the juxtaposition

>of hard and soft—the hard angles softened by the smooth texture of

>silken skin. Let's just say, Steve is easy on the eyes, and even

>easier on the hands.

>

>After we had smiled at each other a few times, he approached my table

>and asked if he could join me. He sat down, and we began an easily

>flowing conversation that enchanted and surprised us both with its

>depth and ease. There were moments of seriousness peppered with a

>flirtatious humor that lightened the mood and signaled mutual

>interest.

>

>We established that we were both single, both living in San

>Francisco, and both interested in seeing each other again. We

>exchanged phone numbers, and just as I arrived home, my cell phone

>rang. It was Steve. We talked about everything and nothing until

>2:30 in the morning.

>

>To be continued...

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

Eleanor:

It makes TOTAL sense. While, yes, there is excitement in this dating

stage, I can't wait until I'm settled, cozy and happy.

Francisco

> >Hello everyone:

> >

> >I hope you're all doing well.

> >

> >Here it is Valentine's Day, and there is part of me that hates it.

> >I'm feeling like the day is just a reminder that I haven't yet

found

> >love. Or have I?

> >

> >As I ran this morning, the loveliness of San Francisco once again

> >wrapped me in a warm embrace. But as I contemplated the beauty

> >around me, my heart was feeling unspoken questions.

> >

> >Why is that full moon so magnificent? Why does the pounding of the

> >waves crashing against the shore call out to my soul? Why is that

> >pink sunrise so achingly beautiful? Why is the song of the birds

> >like music fit for angels? Why does the mid-winter spring weather

> >give me energy for enjoying life? Yet the unspoken questions

> >persist. Where is he? Who is he? When will he come in my life?

> >When will I share this wonder with someone who will hold my hand

for

> >a day, an hour, a lifetime?

> >

> >On Sunday I met Steve. We noticed each other at Starbucks. I

> >couldn't help notice that he was looking at me. At first, I turned

> >around to look behind me to see if he was actually looking at

someone

> >else, but there was only a wall. I mustered up the courage to

> >smile. He smiled back.

> >

> >How do I do justice to Steve's look? He is handsome, slim and

wiry.

> >His look is entirely masculine: bronzed olive-hued skin, short salt

> >and pepper hair, ice blue eyes, strong nose, mustache, chiseled

> >square chin, seemingly zero percent body fat, defined chest, six

pack

> >abs, hairy forearms, thick manly fingers, beautiful hands.

> >

> >Steve is 5'5 " . Yes, he's a little guy, but then again, I'm only

> >5'8 " . The proportions of his body, however, are wonderfully

balanced

> >like a masterwork of Michelangelo. The flow of his physique—angle

to

> >angle, muscle to muscle— is classic. And he possesses that magical

> >surprise sometimes found in a man's physicality: the juxtaposition

> >of hard and soft—the hard angles softened by the smooth texture of

> >silken skin. Let's just say, Steve is easy on the eyes, and even

> >easier on the hands.

> >

> >After we had smiled at each other a few times, he approached my

table

> >and asked if he could join me. He sat down, and we began an easily

> >flowing conversation that enchanted and surprised us both with its

> >depth and ease. There were moments of seriousness peppered with a

> >flirtatious humor that lightened the mood and signaled mutual

> >interest.

> >

> >We established that we were both single, both living in San

> >Francisco, and both interested in seeing each other again. We

> >exchanged phone numbers, and just as I arrived home, my cell phone

> >rang. It was Steve. We talked about everything and nothing until

> >2:30 in the morning.

> >

> >To be continued...

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

[Guest guest]

Eleanor:

It makes TOTAL sense. While, yes, there is excitement in this dating

stage, I can't wait until I'm settled, cozy and happy.

Francisco

> >Hello everyone:

> >

> >I hope you're all doing well.

> >

> >Here it is Valentine's Day, and there is part of me that hates it.

> >I'm feeling like the day is just a reminder that I haven't yet

found

> >love. Or have I?

> >

> >As I ran this morning, the loveliness of San Francisco once again

> >wrapped me in a warm embrace. But as I contemplated the beauty

> >around me, my heart was feeling unspoken questions.

> >

> >Why is that full moon so magnificent? Why does the pounding of the

> >waves crashing against the shore call out to my soul? Why is that

> >pink sunrise so achingly beautiful? Why is the song of the birds

> >like music fit for angels? Why does the mid-winter spring weather

> >give me energy for enjoying life? Yet the unspoken questions

> >persist. Where is he? Who is he? When will he come in my life?

> >When will I share this wonder with someone who will hold my hand

for

> >a day, an hour, a lifetime?

> >

> >On Sunday I met Steve. We noticed each other at Starbucks. I

> >couldn't help notice that he was looking at me. At first, I turned

> >around to look behind me to see if he was actually looking at

someone

> >else, but there was only a wall. I mustered up the courage to

> >smile. He smiled back.

> >

> >How do I do justice to Steve's look? He is handsome, slim and

wiry.

> >His look is entirely masculine: bronzed olive-hued skin, short salt

> >and pepper hair, ice blue eyes, strong nose, mustache, chiseled

> >square chin, seemingly zero percent body fat, defined chest, six

pack

> >abs, hairy forearms, thick manly fingers, beautiful hands.

> >

> >Steve is 5'5 " . Yes, he's a little guy, but then again, I'm only

> >5'8 " . The proportions of his body, however, are wonderfully

balanced

> >like a masterwork of Michelangelo. The flow of his physique—angle

to

> >angle, muscle to muscle— is classic. And he possesses that magical

> >surprise sometimes found in a man's physicality: the juxtaposition

> >of hard and soft—the hard angles softened by the smooth texture of

> >silken skin. Let's just say, Steve is easy on the eyes, and even

> >easier on the hands.

> >

> >After we had smiled at each other a few times, he approached my

table

> >and asked if he could join me. He sat down, and we began an easily

> >flowing conversation that enchanted and surprised us both with its

> >depth and ease. There were moments of seriousness peppered with a

> >flirtatious humor that lightened the mood and signaled mutual

> >interest.

> >

> >We established that we were both single, both living in San

> >Francisco, and both interested in seeing each other again. We

> >exchanged phone numbers, and just as I arrived home, my cell phone

> >rang. It was Steve. We talked about everything and nothing until

> >2:30 in the morning.

> >

> >To be continued...

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >