I am a friendly, bubbly, outgoing kind of person, have a wacky sense of humour, i love to talk about anything and everything, the beach, walking, dancing, reading and anything creative.
I love my sport, and am a keen afl supporter - geelong...go cats!....and love my V8 supercars.....ford all the the way....and now I am even getting into this game you call rugby.....
I have not long moved back to the Gold Coast. You could say i am starting my life over.....and what better place than here on the coast!...perfect one day, brilliant the next:)

So what am i looking for, well definitely someone with a good sense of humour...if you can make me laugh...you have won me already....My ideal mate/friend would be a milf seeker and someone who shares some common interests but has their own too...i like to learn new things...so someone who can teach me a thing or two would make things very interesting. Of course they have to be able to hold a decent converstation about milfs, enjoys the outdoors, going to pubs and just hanging out...but like to enjoy the good things in life too...dinners, movies or walks...certainly a few of my favourites....Currently I am just looking for compansionship more than anything, someone to be able to go out for a coffee or a movie and enjoy their company.
So don't be shy, i promise i dont bite....come and say hello...and who knows.....

Well, Im gunna get deep with this one. So.. u better be ready. Nah, not really. But this is prolly gunna be a long one. cuz i have alot to say about some random things. Read it or dont, doesnt matter to me either way. First off, about my day. I got outta the bed. The End. No, im kidding. I had to work today. And guess what i did? I drove the boat 2 pull a dock across the lake. Because im just that good. And it was only going like 1/2 mph. Haha. Not literally. But it was sooo slow. i could have went to sleep. But then i prolly woulda hit the bank.. or a bridge. Yea Yea. So after i got thru working & swimming & all that Big Tit hottness, i came home. And then I had to vaccum my entire house. Hott. Or not. But hey, i can pretend cant I? And well thats about it for my day. Tomorrow is friday, hot to the izzle. Except not. Because as of right now i have no plans. I thought i did. But now i dont think i do. Isnt that just the crap. Spsh. Ill do sumthing. Because i always do....

I truly used to think that this elemental thing called "love" was some sort of myth, or perhaps a trick your mind plays on you to make procreation of the species easier.
Then I met Julia.

(I still love the way it rolls off the tongue. It was even better when she said it with her light southern accent. I'd often mispronounce it so she'd feel forced to correct me...)

It wasn't love at first sight; it was a gradual thing. Being friends was initially fine with me until I saw beneath her quiet exterior. She wasn't an outgoing person but she was insanely creative, and was only able to get that inner voice out through indirect ways. Just like me.

We shared one outlet in the midst of it all: poetry.

So we went on, writing poem after poem. In truth, most of them weren't very good -- but they got the point across, and in much smoother fashion than either of us could have done face to face.

It went like this, a game of cat and mouse, for nearly two months, until after several late-night cries we finally broke and admitted that we were in love. It was almost like we were both ashamed of it, as if it was going against our moral beliefs. I think that's because it was the first time for both of us.

They say that losing your virginity is traumatic, but falling in love is worse in many ways. At least it was for me ... because here I was, trapped in the northwest, and she was going to school in North Carolina.

Yeah, love.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad had we lived next door to each other. Hell, in the same state would've been nice, but it didn't work that way.

Now it's a few months after we said our good-byes and the only thing I've got left is a sour taste in my mouth and a scrapbook full of pictures and poems.

Something tells me it's not supposed to happen this way.

 

This isn't some fancy tale, with lavish details, great characters, or even a unique storyline. But it's my story, and I think it deserves this chance.

It was a dark and stormy night ...

Well, it wasn't NIGHT per se. Pretty close to it, being a day in the fall around 6pm.

I never noticed her before that day. I'd always thought that I was going to fall in love with someone by meeting her, becoming friends, getting to know her over time, and gradually realizing that I loved her.

But I knew I loved her within 5 minutes of setting my eyes on her.

I don't actually remember how we got to talking. We just talked ... and talked ... and talked. Hours on the phone. Getting in trouble in the library.

I had to tell her. I didn't know how she felt, but something told me I had to come clean. That it was the right thing to do. That somehow everything would work out right.

When I asked her how she felt, she didn't return my feelings. I didn't know what to do with myself. I was hurt, but I wasn't exactly shocked, either. Which shocked me in and of itself.

Over and over, I tried my charms -- movies, flowers, chocolate, and all the corny things one could do over 3 years.

It never blossomed. She grew to despise my awkward attempts to win her over, or so I heard. Sometimes I wondered if it was ever worth the risk, should we have just been friends? Would my life have been better?

We grew apart, eventually. I never forgot her. Clichéd but true.

I still wonder what it would have been like had I never met her. What a sad life that would have been. Albeit she brought me pain, but all that came with it -- our talks, our friendship, the way she smiled and made my life happy when she was in the room -- made it all worth it.

I still love her, unfortunately.

God help me if I didn't.

So two of my friends who also happen to be poets ask me to write "a little intro thingie" for their book of collaborations. I was astonished. How could I shed more light on these joyful poems that hasn't already been shed by the poems themsevles? The truth is, I can't. But I reckon if they put this thingie in the beginning of the book, where intro thingies are usually placed, I could put you in the mood or prepare you for what you are about to read. Shanna and Shafer are both native Texans. Both escaped to New York. Both, no doubt, did this at least in part to write or find poems. Or themselves. Both have a faith in companionship that not too many poets have. Both have a generousness in their poems that still fewer poets care to have. Because, I daresay, they know the poem doesn't belong to them. It belongs to you. Yeah, you. As they write: "All you are is a project./All you are is a hobby./All you are is a/a trellis-and-vine is all you are." What does that mean, oh friends of the poets who got this book out of generousness? It means poems are people and people are poets. What does that mean, oh poet-friends who got this chapbook out of friend- or kinship or neither? It means get up on that trellis, comrades, because that last "you"—see the double "a" pause there on the line break? hear that expectation?—that above-quoted "you" is a collective one.

Daniel Nester
New York, May 2004