my bad sleep habits

I was tired all day.  I passed out on the couch this evening some time past nine.  I woke up at eleven with the lights on, my phone open on the ground, and five new texts.  so I got ready for bed properly, got "in bed" (more correctly, "on air mattress"), and of course now I can't sleep at all.  

It occurred to me that I should get on Craigslist and look for a cheap acoustic guitar.  I've been meaning to get one and see what becomes of the two of us.  

on the Craigslist main page, I was browsing the categories and sub-categories wondering where I might find me a guitar.  under "for sale" is the link "music instr".  I was looking for a free guitar, not one for sale.  no selling or buying desired.  my eyes went back up the page and landed on "missed connections".  I was thinking "What?"  I saw it was under personals, and I wondered what entertainment this might hold.  

I clicked w4m - woman for man.  I don't know why I chose that, it's not like I expected to see one for me (I'm not quite that vain).  just curious I suppose.

if you went on the Seattle Craigslist and checked out the missed connections and clicked "Costco cutie!!!" you could read about a W who saw an M looking at muffins or some shit at Costco, and how she wants him to email her.  

ok this is not entertaining.  what was I doing again?  a guitar?  I clicked back.  

similar dumb headlines, then farther down one said "Your arms around me - w4m - 42".  my interest was sufficiently piqued for whatever reason.  there was one solid paragraph at least fifteen lines long.  I didn't think I would read it all until I started, but for some reason I continued through all of it.

I am so lucky to have you as a friend in my life again, after so long. I remember when your arms around me felt like heaven and there was nothing that could distract me from that loveliness. I got to feel your arms around me again last night, hanging out as old friends do, and I thought I was strong enough not to cry about how your arms made me feel when we said hello and goodnight. I don't know what you are working through, or why you can't follow your heart to me, but I respect you and am only hoping for you to heal from whatever it is. Anything beyond that would be greedy, but I do really wish I could tell you that you still can make me feel all tingly and I imagine you could so easily spark up my teenage crush on you again. I don't know why you keep looking me up, I don't want to be just "something to do on the eastside" when you are here. A little part of me hopes you are testing your feelings again. A bigger part of me wishes I was immune to the feeling of your arms around me so that I could just dive into some kind of therapeutic affair to get over you again. I remember you telling me you loved me, and you tried to again years later, and again years later, and I feel like I must be good for you in some way that you aren't all the way receptive to. I really want to get over you if you are actually not going to explore your feelings with me again. It is a little hard to get over you when you look at me the way I think I saw you look at me last night. I wish you touched me, I have not let anyone touch me for a long time. Don't you want to feel love, even a little love, from someone who has been enjoying you for so long? Doesn't your skin feel lonely? Don't your lips miss being close to mine? Don't you miss teasing me and laughing together and flirting? Oh my god I wonder why I bother asking these questions. If you don't know what you want, I shouldn't be interested. I should pay attention to the guys who have been really after me instead of ignoring them. I had given up shallow affairs but maybe I shouldn't have. I have put off my passions for too long, I think, and it is muddling my brain. I bet anyone else reading this thinks I should just get out there and forget you.

this woman is 42 years old, apparently single, and still feeling like this for her teenage crush it sounds like.  she can't go for the guys who want her because she can't move on.  but she's 42 and her life isn't waiting.

to me this was one piece of thread on a needle passing through the lives of two strangers, of people I know, of my own, through my fear of the passing of time, of love lost and not regained.  her paragraph could be made into a whole movie that people would love and hate.  I don't know the thread's place in the tapestry or why it's there or the larger picture to which it might be contributing its color.  I saw this one tiny thread, and I was looking at it up close wondering what it is going to mean.