I had started packing my belongings into the back of a red 96’ Subaru fresh off Craigslist; I felt stupid driving to LA because I wanted to be an actor, but at 31, I didn’t feel like closeting my insecurities anymore.

On a serendipitous moment, I entered the kitchen finding my roommate; he had introduced me to the Beat Generation, invited me to his family home for Christmas, and showed me around Seattle.

“Do you have any suggestions of places I should see?” I say.

“Esalen.” he says.

“ES-A-LEN?” I say.

“It’s a place people go when they are looking for some direction.” he says.

“Well, that’s EXACTLY what I need.” I say. “How long should I spend there?”

“Spend a month… or two.” he says.

“A month?” I say.

“At least a month.” he says.

He pauses, mind straining to communicate an emotion.

“Just go.” he says.

At the gates of Esalen, an attendant recommends the Work Study Program and gives me the 2012 catalog.

“The website doesn’t have the beautiful photos.” she says.

In L.A., I quickly find a Craigslist ad for “background talent” for a small independent film.

I arrive in a suit, and participate in an 8.5 second clip for a movie called “Scenic Route.”

A friend I made on my coastal route invites me to stay in a cottage in Cambria next to the Bridge Street Inn Youth Hostel; I accept. One night I hear a guest talking about the Work Study Program at Esalen.

“I’m thinking about going to Esalen.” I say.

“Just go.” she says.

The following day, I look through the catalog at the various Work Study Programs. I will fly to NYC in April to check out New York and Columbia’s Graduate School of Journalism before applying in the fall; under the date of May 13 I read about Ann Randolf’s Work Study Program called “Sharing Your Life Story” a program focused on writing.

“Just go” I whisper.

Part 1

I study in Useless Bay Coffee shop. A 20-something girl sits down, tables away, in black ankle strap heels. She starts writing invitation cards. An older man puts his stuff down next to her, and goes to order. His leaving prompts me to action; I approach her.

Me: Are the cards for a wedding ceremony?

Her: No, my friend’s baby shower.

Me: Oh, so you’re single?

Her: Yeah.

Me: You’re very attractive.

Her: Thank you. <she smiles>

Me: Wanna get together? I’m dog sitting at this great house not far from here.

Her: I’m leaving tomorrow, . Maybe when I get back?

Me: Sure or how about tonight? Are you free?

Her: Yeah, I’m free.

Me: Dinner at 7pm?

Her: Sure. Take my number. We can text each other.

I take out my phone and my hand starts shaking. I open up the new contacts screen and hand it to her; she enters in her name and number.

I go about my day simultaneously thinking about sex with this girl. My inner voice won’t shut up! I focus my thoughts on being authentic and telling her I just want sex. This sounds crazy to me, but I have nothing to lose. I vocalize my inner voice, hoping this will make it shut up, or at least help me practice matching words to thoughts. It says:

“I’m thinking that I want to take this girl in the hot tub.”

“I’m thinking that I want to have wine, but I don’t want to use Carolyn’s expensive wine. Well, I’ll just buy the same bottle and replace the one we drank!”

While looking at beautiful rugged mountains out running: “Oh, if she could see these mountains.” Then “Damn, I just say this so she would love me more!”

The inner voice just keeps going on and on and on…

I try countering my inner voice with comments like:

“This is useless”

“At this rate, no wonder you’re always tired by the time your date comes!”

But to no avail. Before I know it, I’m back strategizing how to get sex tonight.

Part 2

She arrives at 6:45. She brings fruit, ice cream, and a bottle of wine. I pop a takeout pizza in the oven and we sit on the couch, drinking her wine.

Her: How long are you going to be house sitting for?

Me: For about a week and a half. Listen, there’s something I want to tell you; I just want you to know, I’m just looking for sex.

Her: Wow, that’s the most honest anyone has ever been with me.

Me: I’m just horny.

Her: Yeah, I understand.

We eat pizza, drink wine, and share funny stories – I tell her about peeing into a McDonald’s cup on the Ride the Ducks tour. She’s laughing. She tells me an adventure story of her own. It’s a good story, about getting lost, shooting guns, and flat tires in the middle of nowhere. I go to the bathroom. I come out and she’s standing at the kitchen. I walk up to her, and suddenly, we’re kissing. We go nude into the hot tub. Then we go to the bedroom and have sex. And again. And again….but stop midway through, like one does at buffets, or unlimited fountain soda machines.

We lay in bed. I pull her into me, not because I really want to, but because I read that is what a woman wants. I try to make pillow talk, but am not sure what to reveal.

At one point she asks me about work. I tell her I don’t do anything at the moment. I see a slight change in her face; I interpret it as disapproval.

We watch a british comedy on Youtube – her recommendation.

She makes a comment about time; says she has to go, and leaves.

I feel a little lost afterwards: My thoughts switch between: 1)Man she was hot 2) I want more – more sex, more intimacy. I feel alone again. And then I remember a quote: This too shall pass. It means that both happiness and pain will come and then go.

The next day, I look around and I’m not entirely sure last night’s sexcapade really happened, except for little hints, like the wine bottle, left over pizza, and condom wrappers.

The End

Riding on the bike path near Seward park on Lake Washington, I hear an Asian girl talking on the phone on the grass. She is  complaining about a man.

“I just want a man who is not so big. More thin….”

I think, “hey!, I fit that description.” My gut is telling me to go talk to her. I pause for a second wondering if this is going to be creepy, but my gut is giving me the all systems go. I approach her, still on the phone.

“I heard you are not happy with your boyfriend?” I say

“Can you hold on just a second?” She says into her phone. She presses some mute button on her phone.

“Yeah, I want a guy who is more active. I like riding bikes and playing tennis. I can’t get him to do any of these things. And I don’t find him that attractive. But he has been a friend before we were dating.” She says. I notice a new white beautiful road bike in the grass next to her.

“I think you should find somebody better.” I say “I like biking and tennis.”

“Oh, you do?” she says. “I’m talking to my good friend right now. I’ll give you my number. Send me a text with your first and last name.”

“Sure” I say, taking out my phone.

“My names Jessica. What’s your name?” she says

“It’s Luke” I say. She reads me her number and I input it into my phone.

“Let’s go biking sometime.” she says

“Great” I say

I bike off happy. I think about her as I ride my bike. About 15 minutes later, I stop and text her

Me: Luke Derror Let’s go biking Wed or Thur is good for me this week

Her: Who is this???

Me: Uhh…we just met 15 or 20 min ago. I was the guy on the bike….

Her: Umm??? Wtf are you talking about??? I’m a 17 year old girl sitting at home playing call of duty… She gave you the wrong number. I have no idea who u are Me: No shit! Lol

Her: Umm… Yeah… Sorry about your loss.

Me: Yeah, that sucks. She was dope

Her: I understand. But hey… At least you didn’t get the rejection hotline right? Kinda immature I know but sometimes people are like that

Me: What’s rejection hotline? Anyway, enjoy call of duty

Her: Its a prank calling system. I will!

Me: Haha What kind of girl plays call of duty?

Her: Umm an awesome one

Me: Good answer

Her: Well also, a girl that was raised with boys.

Me: I was a boy raised with girls. Not once did I play barbie

Her: That’s okay. Neither did I

Me: But I get ur point – I was just teasing

Her: Oh okay :p

Me: Shouldn’t u be doing homework?

Her: Not in school anymore

Me: At 17? Genius or drop out or both?

Her: Both. I had to transfer school districts and they didn’t keep any of my credits which made me two years behind. So I decided to get my GED and go to college Me: Not a bad deal. HS sucks

Her: I agree. And I’d rather be in college doing hands on work anyways

Me: Hands on work? Like on cars or something?

Her: Yeah! Cars mechanic

Me: Gee how did I know?

Her: I honestly have no idea.

Me: The devil is in the details