“Do you think you can do that?” he asks. It’s the most uncomfortable, non-sexy conversation ever. I’m crying. He’s frustrated. The phone is burning a hole in my ear.

I feel upset and put-out. Nothing feels right, nothing is going right, everything is crashing down around me and I’m not sure why. I’m grouchy that he’s trying to come up with solutions while what I really need is a hug. A hug that isn’t coming because it can’t bridge half the Pacific Ocean. So I come back with a non-committal.

“Yeah, I can try.” whatever

“I want a yes.”

Oh. Right.

“Yes.” It comes out all by itself and I’ve agreed to do it all. That feels so much better.

…Sometimes my choice to submit surprises me. But it’s a good surprise.

…but it’s not advisable.

So I’m headed out of my hometown. I was excited to start an adult life on the island I grew up on. I thought that this nurturing place would give me the same kind of support I got as an adolescent finding her way. Being an adult I was sure I’d finally be given a look into the worlds that are closed to children, and an entree into those communities that would help me become a healthy, happy, grown-up sexual being.

But once you’ve done high school in a place, you will forever do high school in a place. Sex is always high school sex, community is always high school cliques, and relationships are eerily similar to lunch-time gossip brawls.

Except now everyone has potbellies and gray hair.

It’s a sad thing to know that that nurturing I remember from my fair island is so tainted. Children I knew grew up to be spiteful and angry. With the added benefit of legal alcohol. I’m back were I started. And it’s not where I want to be. So I’m headed away. From Maui to Korea with a new found appreciation of how good it is to leave home.

So, I have a hard time keeping up the blogging which would seem to say that I’m not a teenager anymore.  But I still thought I was hip and down with it all since I have a Facebook account, I check youtube regularly, and I still follow the latest lolcats.  

But then I found myself at a dance class with a bunch of seniors and the words “I won’t twitter and you can’t make me” came out of my mouth.

Yes, I denounced the twitter.  I won’t do the twitter.  I don’t know how that twitter stuff works and I refuse to learn.

I sound like my mother…