In-between times
We start this summer off with a bang. The bang, that is, of my broom hitting the floor and whacking a 4-inch cockroach stone cold dead. It took several whacks, mind you. These suckers are tough.
And here we have a photo of the lovely feline princess in her accustomed summer pose. "Willya put that damned Nikon away, already? I'm trying to nap!" Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Cockroaches, on the other hand, are a source of endless fascination, though her only assistance on this one took the form of identifying it before it made its appearance. It was so big, even my puny human ears could hear it fluttering its icky wings. I know, gross.
I steeled myself for the kill as soon as I saw her doing her best bird dog imitation, which consists of meowing and pointing, just like a setter. Apart from the meow, of course.
Anyway, it's dead and gone, and I sprayed. Of course, I'd sprayed last week, too. Sigh. The beauties of awful muggy weather are many.
Anyway...none of that is really on my mind at all right now. What ought to be on my mind is completing the project that's in front of me, due tomorrow. What is, in fact, on my mind is, well...impure thoughts about the date I had a few days ago.
Mind you, I did not have impure thoughts (or actions) at the time. This is how my mind works. I have a first date. If it goes well, I simply have a good time talking to them. Many times, I will have a good time talking to them even if I don't want to see them again. But if I do want to see them again, I end up being so overwhelmed by the intensity of getting instant exposure to a whole new person that I just can't do anything dateish like kiss them.
This is why men who think I'm going to sleep with them on the first date make me laugh.
Anyway, this particular fellow did not make any of those kinds of improper moves; he was nice and well-behaved, and we had a really delightful conversation.
And I thought, hmmn. Maybe.
So then over the next few days my brain does that mysterious thing that it does, whereby it decides that it really liked that guy, and that it's going to distract me from thinking about what I'm paid to think about, and instead I am going to start imagining pleasant scenarios that involve doing all kinds of things I would never have thought of doing on the date itself.
I don't know what this phenomenon is called, or whether anybody else works like this, but this has happened to me once before. (Yes, Shan, with a certain blonde who shall remain nameless.) And really, of course I don't know what will happen with this one. It might follow a very different trajectory (though I hope not), and end with me deciding, Nope. But I would like it if it went the way the other one did - namely, that I conceive a sudden and furious passion for the lad. Because, you know, that is fun.
GAH. Saints preserve us, I'm horrified. I've never seen a cockroach in person...we don't have them here on the west coast. THANK YOU LORD.
Kitwich is so cute as usual.
It's interesting, this relationship invention your brain does. It explores possibilities almost on its own. I think it's great...especially if you DO actually get to see him again.
Well, sweetie, I can try to preserve one in amber for you so you can see when you visit (ha!).
Yeah, it's not so much inventing a relationship where there is only a first date (because I am not insane, nor do I want to move that fast), it's more imagining what might come out of it, and what that might be like. And a good part of it takes the form of, shall we say, fantasies involving specific situations. Is that clear enough? Sex. I am talking about imagining sex. Okay, that should be clear.
I think, too, that I do a lot of processing after the fact - for example, one day, early in the time-with-Boywich, after we'd split up for several months because I wasn't ready to be so heavily involved, I ran into him at some friends' place, and it suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks that I was in love with him. That's an extreme example, but sometimes it happens like that. For such a wordy person, I'm also a bit like Nick Cage's character in Moonstruck, to whom Cher says, "You're a wolf. The big part of you has no words." A lot happens under the surface when I'm ostensibly doing other things.