Okay, maybesexmaybesexmaybesex...

So--I'm blogging again. This shit has to stop.

Had a date tonight.

Well, not a date-date--just a "let's get this shit out of the way before I lose my MIND" meeting.

I told you about my friend and his silly, silly idea. I also told you that if he frigged up my CHEE anymore than he already had--I'd kill him.

So we talk on the phone today--which kinda is our usual thing. However, I've not slept well since the "true confessions" crap we had and my friend is enjoying the hell out of it because he's certain it's all about HIM.

What of it?

Apparently, whilst I was waffling--he'd gotten his damn game back. Well rested and all self assured, he's got me by the fricken' nuts I thought I once had.

And he LIKES it. Shit head. LOLLOL

I'm situation normal, all fucked up. I ALWAYS have the upper hand in this stuff and I'm not liking the unbalanced, teetering on the brink of insanity thing.

He does. Dumb ass. LOLLOL

We spend all afternoon on the phone and e-mailing--then, to further play with my tired, worn, frazzled sanity--he toys with me some more. Like a cat tortures a spider or something. He doesn't want to KILL it--just play with it until it's in general HALF DEAD.

I'm weak here. Walking on the edge of WTF and in danger of falling into, if I don't get some sleep, I'll end up in the pokey as someone's bitch, teaching mascara application to my fellow lifers.

he likes THAT even more :) flippin' just like I would. copycat. LOLLOL

he calls me again tonight--just to be really sure I'm beaten to within an inch of desperation. Fine. Okay--let 'er rip. You can be on top--today.

So--he says let's hook up--he has stuff coming up at work and he won't have much time to see me. Ahhh, here's the part where I find out he has a wife and a dozen cats or some shit. No--I'm kidding. So I say, okay, however, we're going to get this crap OUT OF THE WAY. I don't want to eat--I don't want to go to a movie--I want to meet ANYWHERE and KISS. Period. No more screwin' around. Let's get this over with--so we can move along and you can say, I was RIGHT. I'm in control of this and I ain't waitin' around for you to kiss me FIRST. Sometimes you get what you wish for--so here I am, stud. I'm going to give you exactly what you want me to and you're going to do it MY way and you're going to like it.

Where, he says?

I don't give a crap. We can meet at Phil's house of tattos and bondage for all I care, but when I see you--I'm going to kiss the shit out of you and it better be what you keep saying you think it will--or you DIE.

Got that?

Shit for shineola, baby.

Mr. Confident says, FINE. Bring it.

Good--let's do this, I say, ya friend fucker-upper. Prepare, weenie, I'm thinking.

So, warrior princess that I am--I put on my game face, slap on some goop and hit the happy trail. I play LOUD music on the way to the scene of the would be crime--because the moment I step out of that car--I'm slapping him up against whatever's available and sucking his face. I'm strung--wired--lit--obviously, not of my usual presence of mind. Which isn't a whole lot of presence, but WHATEVER.

Oy.

I pull into the parking lot--find him--park and do just as I said I would.

I'm on FIRE--rarin' to go--ready to hit the mat like a WWF champ.

We face off--I'll be dipped if I can remember what the hell we did after that.

We kiss.

Right there in the middle of the parking lot of Barnes and Noble. How apropos for this writer, eh?

Ahem.

So ya wanna know if it was good, yes?

I have NOTHING to say other than, an end may come to my residence in Sexless TX and that's ALL I'll own up to.

That's it.

LOLLOLLOLLOL

Dakota :)