The Song of Cuddlin' Gus and Grippy

Oh my. My previous post reminds me that one primary function of this blog is to give me reasons to laugh at myself. Yup. Funny funny.  I'm a Real Hoot alright. Which is good.

To be blunt: I'm fucking in love in a very basic, chemical way. The jiggly knees and numby-tingly arms…best drug ever, hands down. I just wish I were in love with…a puppy? a bird? a goldfish? 'Cuz this man is so very very challenging and I am most certainly very very challenging in return. And for a man who wants things to slow down, he sure knows how to keep a camp fire burning…it's just…beyond my scope. I suspect there's a special support group of women he's dated; I know a canned speech when I hear it. Last night I had to call "bullshit" on some of this…and then I fucking texted him this morning. Oi! At least it was to complain about texting being the primary communication tool. Too easy for me to abuse. I'm thinking it might be in my best interest to compose handwritten letters that take a day or two before they're read. And a set Date Night each week. I could work with that.

I decided when I started the image above that he's the symbol on the left, me on the right. We've nicknamed our Alter Egos: Cuddlin' Gus & Grippy, Asshole and Cheesesteak, Gerald and Denise. Interesting for a man who doesn't want a relationship. Fucking Asshole. Fucking Cheesesteak.