DAVE part 2

A few days later, Dave appeared at my door with a table, clean sheets, delicious smelling massage oil and a big smile on his face. I could tell he was nervous as he set up the table in my living room, doing
his best to make me feel that I was in good hands, with a professional, clinical attitude.

“Come and lie down face-up,” he said. “Here, I'll cover you up nice and warm with this blanket.” I hopped on the table and he laid his hands on me – large, healing hands, energy pouring through them. I
relaxed immediately.
Oh I'm in heaven!
The large, confident hands glided effortlessly over my body, kneading out knotty kinks and relaxing tight muscles, still sore from sitting on planes. We didn't talk much. Other than checking on the pressure for me, he encouraged me to let go and relax deeply.

It's rare I can drop into a deep, open space whilst being massaged by someone new. Normally I need a little time to learn to trust my therapist, I need to feel safe in order to open my energy fully. But with Dave, I felt totally protected and safe and quickly fell into a state of bliss. That surprised me.
Who is this guy??

When he finished, he sat and held my feet, dropping into that float zone with me, merging energy for a moment.

I sat up slowly, thanking him as he started to pack up his gear. “Let me make you a cup of tea,” I offered, wanting to give something back to this lovely man.
“I'll take it the English way. Black tea with milk,” said Dave, who it turns out, had lived a few years in England and can understand my odd transatlantic expressions and slang.

We sat on my couch sipping tea and chatted warmly. That night I was having a gathering for Kat with some of the people from jnana group who knew her when she was a member. My friend Kathy was coming early to spend some time with me. Dave and I were still engrossed in conversation when she knocked on the door.

“Come in, sweetie, and I'll make you tea. Here come sit on the couch with Dave. He'll give you a hug if you need one.”
I brazenly volunteered his loving arms.

While Kathy poured out her heart and sorrow over Kat's passing, she sat between Dave and I, both our arms around her. It felt so right to be here comforting one of my best friends with a man I hardly
knew.... I was cognizant of the strong, masculine space Dave held; quiet, loving, present. I liked that. It's a rare gift to be able to comfort someone with pure presence alone, but his energy was doing exactly that on that sad day when we were mourning the loss of our friend.

Still, much as I liked and appreciated this lovely man, I had been with a large man before and had sworn to only date fit, healthy men. Plus he had that hairy face.
No. I just couldn’t do it - there is NO way I am kissing a guy with a mustache.

DAVE WRITES:
I've studied bodywork and energy-work all over the world as a way to improve my health and as a way to help others. When my father passed away in 2003, I took it much more seriously. I was the standout student in every class I took and as a way to heal and as a form of exercise I made every opportunity I could to give work -chair massage at sporting events, working a few hours a week at several day spas, eventually teaching and opening a healing studio. Along the way I became a Reiki Master and helped develop an integrated hot/cold stone treatment combined with Reiki technique and eventually did massage for the USA Olympic Athletes. Safe to say that I'm confident in this arena, which is why I'm giving my bodywork resume.


I found myself offering massage to Lady Julia in the hope that I could get to know her better via my touch senses and that the same would transfer for a shot at a happy ending. (Get your mind out of the gutter - not "that" kind of happy ending wherein Mama Kim will love you long time.) Julia, being a seasoned healing arts person gladly accepted and a 2:30 in the afternoon time was chosen. She said she had a table and linens and all that, but I had mine handy, just the same. After a quick chat, she produced the world's oldest, pink colored massage table. Well used but would do the job. I had my lotion of choice ready and we talked about pressure and injuries past and all that clinical stuff. On the table she went.

Up to this point I was relatively composed. After thousands of massages I should be.


And then I touched her. I've been searching for the words to describe this initial feeling and the best that seems to come has something to do with being plugged into one of those huge power turbines they have at the base of Hoover Dam. I've never been connected to one of them, but I now know what it might feel like it. The smallish Brit nearly knocked me off my feet with her strong energy flow and I began to sweat and shake as if I had had 12 shots of espresso. I don't remember much, but somehow I managed to make my way through some flowing work and a bit of deeper work, using about 30 percent of my pressure potential. Of course she commented on liking pressure, but I was not about to mess up by going too far.


We had our first small connection as she curled into a ball on the table after the massage and we talked a moment. It was the first time she had let her guard down, as if one of those fuzzy-hatted Buckingham Palace guards finally cracked a smile. I felt encouraged. Then later foolish, as I learned from her that she had studied massage herself before moving on to higher pursuits. For sure, I could have ran some deeper work and for sure she must have known I was a nervous wreck. We shared a cup of tea and some small talk with her taking a position as far away as possible from me as we sat on the couch with our tea.


Massage adventure over, I sent a note of thanks with a very open-ended invitation to get together. Her reply caught me off-guard…


The next day, determined to be clear with Dave, I wrote him a note that said as much.
“Dave – I really love our friendship and look forward to getting to know you better. But I don't sense a romantic attraction with you.”

Dave was not to be deterred. He admitted in an email he had a huge crush on me. I had guessed that and was not quite sure where to go with it but as it’s so rare I meet anyone as fascinating as Dave, I wanted to keep a door open for a friendship at least.

“Lets go see a movie together,” he suggested. We'd talked about seeing “J. Edgar” and arranged another date.

LOVE finds me.

My story is ruined. You see, I was supposed to meet the man of my
dreams on some romantic beach in Galapagos, ensuring a neat and happy
ending to my book like any good romance novel.

But all that changed this week.

Dave found me on OK Cupid. He wrote to me whilst I was in Asia. I remember feeling a twinge of excitement when I checked out his profile... reiki practitioner, did massage, was a well-known speaker and writer in his field, was well-traveled and did not suffer fools. Sounded like my kind of guy,even though he had a beard and mustache and I can't stand hairy faces!

He was the first date I arranged after arriving home in the USA.

Dave writes: After a particularly bad breakup and the resulting months of healing, a friend suggested that it might be time to date. A different friend, much more adept and immersed in the dating "scene" suggested a particular Internet site that would be a good place for more "alternative" type people without simply being an anonymous sex cesspool. I jumped in, wrote words, answered questions, posted pituress and started searching. A short list was created and boldly off to the dating stars I went to go where no man had gone before.

One of the Profiles that made me stop and read was that of a petite blonde English ex-pat who described her work and life mission as a yoga teacher, tantra teacher, world traveler, author and mentor. I would read her words, look at her picture and imagine this diminutive stature, large personality woman living in a world where she would fall for a bear of a man of whom personality was always the thing women have loved and body, well, not so much. Nonetheless, a short, eloquent note was sent off to beg the important question.

As it turns out, Yoga Goddess received my note while on an extended teaching trip through Asia. Yet she wrote with an interest and an intention to meet upon her return. A success. Better yet, she wrote a couple more times with trip updates. Even better, when she shared her website address, I discovered that I had actually seen her before when searching Google for yoga teachers in my area and somehow felt I knew her.

It was in that moment that a rush of understanding came to me. As a Body and Energy Worker I know this feeling. But it is often affirmed or corrected when I touch someone. Can't touch her in Asia, so I was content with a warm fuzzy feeling. And as far as I was concerned her return couldn't come quickly enough. Every "coffee date", good or bad, always left me wondering about the free spirited one.


“Hi Julia, I'm Dave. Great to meet you. Can I get you a coffee?”
We were in my local Starbucks. I saw a giant of a man standing before me, well dressed, imposing but 6 ft 5 huge and broad to match. He had to be at least 400lbs.
“Thanks – I'll have a tall latte and one of those yummy caramel bites – I am totally addicted to them!”
I was nervous and babbled, feeling a bit awkward and self-conscious as I felt Dave's big blue eyes scanning me for the first time.

We found a couple of comfy seats and started chatting; small talk about my Asia trip, what he does for a living and the usual stuff we do whilst our minds evaluate the person we are meeting and our
energies meet and sense the other.
“He doesn't look like his picture,” I was thinking. “He's way bigger, has less hair and looks older.”
But I LOVED talking to this man! I instinctively felt safe with him, and after feeling ungainly and clumsy from being around delicate, elegant Asian women, in Dave's presence I felt petite and feminine, a good feeling for me.

Dave said he was an agronomist, an expert on grass and turf, so he works on golf courses. Jack Nicholson employed him for years to help build golf courses all over the world. He'd traveled as much as I have. Yet as a true Rennaissance man, Dave also played bass in a band, loved to cook, dance and go to hot springs; and dive.

“I love to touch and learned massage at Esalen a few years ago. If you'd like me to come over and work the jet lag out of you I'd be happy to offer.”
Well, really, a very nice man wants to practice his massage on me. And he learned that smooth, flowing Esalen-style technique that is so relaxing to receive. What girl in her right mind would say no to that?
Besides I really LIKED this man, even though I did not feel attracted to him in a physical way. I was happy to get to know him better as a friend. Of course, I did not say that right away. That would be
off-putting. So we made a massage date for the following week and said our goodbye.

Dave writes: Upon the return of Lady Julia, she took a few days to purge jet lag and we agreed on a time and a place to hold the ritual ceremony of The Coffee Date. It's not a hard activity if you like job interviews, root canals and other invented activities that are designed as emotional spanking machines.

Of course, I'm a wreck all day with nerves yanking my system like several hundred bee stings. And at the same time, I have a feeling of peace like I'm meeting an old friend. But in the weeks waiting for her return, I'd had a few of these first dates and a couple of second dates and for the most part dating was starting to look and feel like an activity along the lines of stacking deck chairs on The Titanic.

Miss Julia entered the Starbucks, late, but not too. She had told me she'd be the girl in jeans and a pink jacket. There were jeans, no pink jacket; a sign she was just checking the box and meeting the Large American to get it over with?

The most important thing to me, immediately, was that her vibey, intelligent speech was real and profound and I found myself falling into her British accent as if I had just tried to walk across a swift moving stream. Plunging into the exhilarating cold, realizing I had to swim in the current of the conversation with all I had, exhilarated, yet somehow forgetting I never intended to swim.

Time passed quickly. And I simply had to ask her if I could see her again. She related that there were some busy moments, there were some openings. I figured I could take that. But my overarching sense was that she really didn't see me. Coffee dates. Had me thinking that what I should do is just take my dog and head for the hills somewhere. Reminds me of a scene in Robert Redford's classic movie, Jeremiah Johnson, wherein Redford's character asks the old mountain man, Grizz, if he ever got lonely for a woman.... a full time night woman. The answer was something to the effect of him having traded in his squaw for a gun and some tobacco Wisdom? Perhaps.

Here's what I knew: a Goddess stepped into my life and I recognized it. As a man, regardless of my height, weight, education, cultural construct or anything else that makes me the special creation I am, I owe it to myself to embrace that recognition enough to show this person who I am. Once she sees and I know her vision is clear and then and only then if she doesn't feel chemistry... the credits roll, a sad song begins to play and this cowboy rides away.

That's not how it happened.