It's the bandaid holding his glasses together that cinches this one for me. Also, it reminds me of the words of a guy I worked with long ago, "I never have sex standing up... it could lead to dancing."
Got an email from a pal yesterday who wrote, "...how DO you think of that bloggy schtuff @ that hour of the morning?? Gads..."
Oh, I don't know. Really, I don't.
Sometimes it crawls into bed with me the night before, and like an eager lover pries and prods all night long.
Sometimes it’s just there at ohgod o'clock, much like my silently staring cat, when I open my eyes in the morning. Just sitting. Just waiting. Allowing me to wend my way up from dreams before it begins pacing and demanding attention.
Sometimes it rises along with the steam in my first cuppa bean. The scent hits the air, my awareness kicks in, and I fine-tune it.
Sometimes I have to sift for it. It's in there somewhere, that little sparkling speck, floating amid the rest of the flotsam.
Sometimes I have to dig. It's like the old coffee can your relatives used to hide money in that's buried somewhere in the back yard. If only I could remember where I buried it.... it's there. I know it.
Sometimes it’s nowhere to be found and I have to fake it. You'd be surprised at how realistic a woman can make a phoney orgasm sound. Not that I ever... I wouldn't... I don't need to... oh, nevermind.
It's all just there. Somehow. One could easily say that I'm just ....
adjective; Origin: 1805–15; Don Quixote + ic
1. resembling or befitting Don Quixote.
2. extravagantly chivalrous or romantic; visionary, impractical, or impracticable.
3. impulsive and often rashly unpredictable.
Synonyms: fanciful, fantastic, imaginary