OI! OI! I'm loosing my flippin' mind.

Yah, you heard me, listen you lot.

Frank and honest I'm freaking out. I flit from man to man, lust to love, love to lust, never in like, always searching for the life companion, the best friend to grow old with that sets fire to my loins and warms my heart with thier presence.

I wish, I want I whimper out names, and I don't know what I want, I don't know who I want....okay thats not true, I do know who I want but gods be damned, distance makes the heart grow bitter.

And I'm already bitter, but in that sweet way that Baker's chocolate is both so good but so so bad. Makes you moan in blissful contentment then purse you lips and swallow hard the sour taste of truth.

Bleh.

I love my Dark Sex God, in the year (oh btw D.S.G happy anniversary!) I've meet, gotten to know and fallen ass over end for my lord on high, I've come to the realization I'm a sadist. I am only happy when I am miserable, and I am only miserable when I want what I can't have. Not that I -can't- have, but I can't afford to have.

I am the most happiest at three in the morning laying down on the phone laughing and exchanging snuggles, tearing myself away at the end of the night to hang up cuts me like a dull razor, it tears, leaves jagged edges and I am left bleeding without a clean wound to suture. Yet, ugh, I just worry that unless a hell of alot changes in both our lives I'm going to have to step away and resign myself to just being friends. And that fact chills me to the very marrow of my bones.

And always in the back of my mind, I hear the softest faintest voice, asking 'What about Bish?'

Again.

I don't know.

A part of me wants to slam shut the iron doors on my heart and say, fuck it girl, just stick to the local boys.

But I'm a sadist. I like the pain of wanting what I can't have, the distance keeps it safe, keeps the pain away, keeps all the bad things that could happen further away then they would be if Bish or D.S.G. were close.

If I can't have them in my arms, I won't know what it'll be like to not have them when they are gone. The week I had Bish here, ye gods, nothing could touch me, I was living in my own blissful little world and it was good. And then he left and it was...hard. Empty. Cold. I realized what I want, what I need and with it gone it was...it was like being dumped all over again.

You never know what you appriciate the most until it is gone. Me, I miss being held, being cradled in the arms of a strong warm man and hearing their heart beat against my ear as I am being squeezed. My favourite sound? The sound of a mans deep voice reverberating through thier chest cavity to me. Makes me warm and fuzzeh and all sorts of shiny.

Which brings me to the clear and present fact.

The new guy. The toyboy as Bish calls him. I over-analyse, take apart, do my emotional autopsy, weigh the heart, the liver, the kidneys', measure the organs, drain the blood, donate them if they work, stuff them with sawdust and stick 'em back inside if they don't. Do I see myself with him, will this just be a fling should I just have at it or should I step back and say 'Oh no sir, I'm not letting you in to my heart.'

I like him, oh yes, I do. And its FAR FAR to early to see if there is a potential for more. But I like him, and for a change, thats a bit refreshing. I'm not totally smitten yet, I blush when I think of him.

I should have danced.

HAH. Wait what? Let me explain. On our date, at the end of the movie, there was the end credits, witha great little romantic french piece playing. He asked me to dance and I laughed and told him I don't dance.

But I do. I love to dance, reckless and with great fivolty, I dance. But I blush. And I grow shy and I hate it. I'm not a shy person. I'm not quiet and introverted and meek. I'm Loud, Extroverted and Crazy.

But when I am asked to dance, I shy away into myself and say no.

I should have danced.

Next time. I'll Dance.