Friday, March 31, 2006

Self analysis

Observations about self:
1. Is Friday night at 9.02pm and oh my god I'm blogging. Is this pathetic? Hmm possibly. Do I feel guilty for:
a) not going uptown to watch films at sick girlfriend's house? Hmm not really... 3 miles is too far to go when feeling exhausted and lazy...besides she lied to me about her botox. Couldn't figure out what was up with her eyes....kept commenting...she kept feining innocence...finally, she suffers such guilt she admitted to the tox.
b) do I feel bad for making my gorgeous lazy-eyed Croatian girlfriend (never really sure which eye to focus on, nor convinced she is paying attention when chatting in person) with whom I'd made plans with tonight, feel bad for messing up supper/party plans? She's stuck in North Carolina waiting for delayed flight. Am I bad friend for not acknowledging said exhaustion and would, if knackered body allowed jump for joy at prospect of climbing into bed, which is sorely neglected; never spend enough time in own bed.

Now what also is amiss or perhaps not:

1. Enjoying sexual fantasties about Hotel Boy - incredibly vivid and arousing. Second morning waking without Ambien - very good girl. Waking up prior to alarm, totally aroused by Hotel Boy and our fabulous sex scenes - a thatched roofed hut on the beach is constant theme.

2. Flirting with The Poet but not really sure why. Am thinking it is because of his furniture. Didn't really fancy him prior to seeing his apartment which is decorated just the way I like things. Urg...am I that shallow? Possibly.

3. Flirting via texts (he lives in Washington) with Mafiosi Toy-Boy - and he really is a boy. Have never fancied a younger man. Not to late to try one on. Is 30 too young? He thinks I'm totally hot - which is a positive of course. Strikes against him however include the all-encompassing cringe at most things he says/does/is. Explanation: he has a horrible Atlantic City accent and is super Atlantic City cheesy. I'm really insufferable. He wants to take me to Atlantis (yuck ultimate cheese I'm guessing). Of course couldn't not come right and and say yuck, but angled that perhaps we could go somewhere neither of us had been. Jamaica?

4. Flirting via email with lardy (polite American euphemism for fat) Greek who sports a mono-brow. He is totally charming but totally lives in London. We've shared one romantic dinner where I was totally distracted; over many courses I visualised the mechanics of having sex with such a fat man. My conclusions were: could not do missionary - would result in death by squishing. We would have to do doggy-style or me on top. Would also have to study-up on Karma Sutra - sure to offer many alternatives for body mass issues. Also not sure how easy it would be to find his penis. He really is very fat, although Hotel Boy assures me he looks not bad in swimmers. Other concern is his heart. Would I need to have phone near by for emergency services in case of heart-attack?

Going to bed, hoping for more dreams with Hotel Boy and not obsessing over sex positions with fat Greek.