If a cow ever got the chance...

I promise to someday write in here when NOT completely smashed.

I don't know when that day will be.

Made dinner for Cyril--"hamburger" casserole, cornbread, broccoli with roasted red peppers, salad with balsamic vinaigrette, apple pie--I think it went over OK--then we wandered around the North Center neighborhood looking for a place to buy cigarettes. Didn't find one. I once again attempted to hit on him through the completely transparent denial mechanism ("I'm not hitting on you, but I'm surprised others don't")--luckily he was gracious and just said thank you, thus saving me from horrible embarrassment when I mentally review tonight's events, tomorrow morning.

I wish I had someone to make out with. I don't want to have sex with anyone, necessarily. What I miss is the anticipation. Lying in a bed with someone you don't know very well. Each shift in position bringing you closer, and you both know it's deliberate. The shimmering, disappearing space between us. The first touch of another person's lips. That's all I want.

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