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after we went out that one time, i didn't see him again for weeks. of course i knew he was living with someone! jarvis told me. i'd be lying if that wasn't one of the reasons why i agreed to go out with him. nothing serious: all we did was run around an empty mall for a while and kissed a couple of times. i liked him from when he started coming into the shop. he's good looking in the way you think clive owen is good looking. meaning, rugged and weathered a bit, and still sexy as hell. and, gotta tell you, a good looking guy who likes comics, seems to be such my thing, you know. anyway, he'd come in and always just buy one book and it wasn't ever a single issue. it was either a trade or graphic novel, and it wasn't ever of a continuing series. yes, it made me curious, his comics buying habits.

the shop's owner - that'd be jarvis - told me he'd come in a few times with his girl and they were pretty lovy-dovy and a little spark died inside. but, fuck it.

i wasn't gonna go to be bed with him, but i was curious to see what sort of guy he was. to his benefit, he didn't try to take me home (i wonder what would've happened if he did). he was nice and asked me loads of questions. he wanted to get to know me and all. turns out, when i was still seeing that asshole jason, he was at the same show in long beach i was at. small world and all that. he's a little bit more interesting that i thought. of course, he was out with some other girl while his girl was back home, probably wondering where he was. if she only knew.

before you hate me, it was completely innocent. i'm not going to try and take this girl's guy. just wanted the company, and never ever underestimate the power of a good make out session!

for a few weeks, he stopped coming into the shop. i noticed. but that's how things go, i suppose. probably, he felt guilty. in a way, it's disappointing because...because i think he'd make a decent friend. a terrible boyfriend, but a good friend. i'm a pretty good judge of character. always have been. irony? you be the judge. i mean, you're already judging me, so...

at home, if you can call it that, my three roommates are having a party and i just want to sleep. this is what my room looks like:

wall one is covered in music posters and flyers and photos with bands i've met. wall two is plastered with movie posters, none of which are like 'real' movie posters. just reprints. my favorite one is for that movie they made a few years back, ms. wyoming, but mostly because i think i've a lesbian crush on shannyn sossamon. wall three is lined with bookshelves i've bought at terrible suburban stores. they have zero personality. bookshelves as high school yearbook pictures? anyway, i've dozens and dozens of comics and trades and graphic novels (yes, there is a difference between the three types, dammit!). also dozens and dozens of novels i've read at least four times. i've been a nerd for longer than i knew. there is no wall four, just my tiny closet. which is just as well because all i seem to own are black tee-shirts and jeans, and one immortal pair of sneakers.

i lay down and wonder what mike is doing. haven't talked to him in a while and he was pretty cool. if you met him you'd think he was some sort of spaz, but once i got to know him, he became spectacularly cool. he'd write his little two act plays and put them on at the university theater and were actually pretty good. mostly it was about guys and girls meeting or breaking up. a weirder younger amalgam of kevin smith and john hughes. his hair used to always fall across his face when he was writing (he only wrote longhand!). he didn't wear glasses or carry around a square shoulder bag. he had red and black dreads and always wore some japanese biker boots i'de never seen anywhere. he didn't wear skinny jeans and did not match his shirts to his socks. i'm thinking about mike because he is creative.

i think about julian because he was so damn cool. only gay guy i know who'd jump into the mosh pit with me! looking at him, you'd think he was one of those hip-hop b-boys but he wasn't. he was fucking with those people because he could. he'd rock a 1970's punk rock outfit when we'd go to the mall. but when it was just him and me, yoga pants and an old bruce lee tee while we watched seinfeld on dvd over and over again. i'm thinking about him because he's long gone, and at a time, before i knew he was gay, i think i fell in love with him.

i think about jason because he was the last guy i went out with. i have to tell you, jason was probably the best looking guy i've ever gone out with in my adult life. he's tall and has a dark complexion and a killer smile and and dreads that hang to his waist and the cutest chubby cheeks! one of his eye has a tinge of green around a deep brown iris. he dj's. he can sing too but is self-conscious about it. too bad he likes getting high as much as people like to have three meals a d

I arrived in Sharm el Sheikh at 9am, there was a man there to meet me holding a card with my name. I got into the minivan and stared absently at the mountain/desert scape as we sped along the road to Dahab. Again I sat in the front seat and the driver hailed me with questions. He asked if I had a boyfriend, I said yes but hadn't realised that as I said it I was shaking my head (I really do have difficulty lying), he laughed at me and said 'are you sure?' to which I smiled and nodded firmly. Just before pulling into Dahab the driver slowed to a stop and said 'your boyfriend is a lucky man, I just wanted to tell you that'.

We pulled up in front of a large modern looking hotel with its back facing the road and its front to the sea. I saw a young white man in a slick stripy shirt and white linen pants pointing directions to a pretty looking girl wearing a red wrap around her waste. As I climbed out the car the man rushed over and offered his hand 'hi you must be Sarah, I'm James, your yoga travel guide'. I took his hand but missed eye contact in a moment of shy travel exhaustion. James insisted on pulling my bag to reception and asked me about my time in Cairo as we waited at the front desk. 'So did you do the pyramids and museum....' 'no', I replied, 'I have been traveling so much recently that I couldn't find the energy to do the tourist thing, I did the pyramids though'. As I filled in my arrival form I paused at 'passport number' and flicked through to find it 'so well traveled that you still don't know your passport number' said James. I blushed a little and explained that in all my 20months in Congo I had never succeeded in learning my phone number.

James said goodbye as I reached my room, I went for a quick change before heading out to explore the town and take a quick dip in the sea. As I napped on a sunbed in the shade I was awoken by a loud British voice 'THIS IS BLOODY PERFECT!', I rusteld beneath my wrap and poked my head out to see a woman sat bolt upright two chairs away from me, admiring the sea. She turned in surprise, saying she hadn't realised anyone was there beneath my mummy costume. 'That was a really good statement' I said as I followed her gaze to the sea. 'Im' Charlie' she said and that is how I met the first of my yoga companions.

Before going to meet my yoga group for dinner, I stood on my terrace to admire the view of Saudi Arabia and breathed a great sigh of relief to have finally escaped the city.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that all my fellow yogis were drinking beer in the bar for our first meeting but not nearly as surprised as James and the yoga instructor (also called Charlie) who were used to groups of Americans on detox.

We went for dinner at a great little Italian restaurant where we made friends over carpaccios and pizza. The girl I had seen receiving directions as I arrived introduced herself as Sam. I sat opposite Sam and a lady called Helen. James sat to my right and Charlie to my left. It was a lovely evening ended with tea back at the hotel, a late night chat between James, Charlie and I and a reasonably early night prior to our first morning yoga session.