Oh please, can someone play the drums? A cymbal? Anything at all, so that I can say I had at least a small laugh at the joke of yesterday?

S&C...You're reading this aren't you? I'm not p-ed, why would I be....but I have to say what mighty effort you go through, just to protect me, who you have deemed fragile and wimpy.....BUT. I am Xena, Office Warrior Princess and I know how to walk in high heels and a swimsuit. Oh gosh-- I am a [i]little[/i] p-ed...I mean sheesh- all drama yesterday.

But I have to say thank you for always taking so much care of me.

And now. The punchline. The sweetness of my D. That he will be attentive to the details and see my face needed a joke, move over on a pillow. He knows and asks if I am too warm, hungry, low or high...tired. For me he is wonderfully delicious because of this, because he pays attention. Aware of what I may be thinking, what I might need, what interests me and how to please me.

And then he kissed me. and all in the world was right.

So why would I need anyone's permission to do the right thing?

Complacency. If I had known yesterday morning when he ran back into my bedroom that this would have been happening just hours later, I would have not let him go to work, I would have asked him to stay and hug me all day, to negate whatever I would feel when I hear this.

But I have to believe him- I have to because well then I will be no better then the faithless and jaded.

This world can be so sad--no one makes birthday cakes anymore, do they? From a box, from the movies, from some bad book you'll read on a train --The little prince was right when he said that it will not matter if no one else hears the stars laughing, because the truly necessary is invisible to the eyes--and that one person will hear the stars laughing and that will have been enough.

If you had to call someone from my past and ask them how they felt about me, no one would say they were my boyfriend, no one would even say they still loved me. I think about this this morning...

Why does he come with such heavy baggage? Who is this girl? Do I even want to think of these things?

I think B would say that he hates me. I think after much prodding, you may get him to say that he loves me, but that we ruined our relationship. He is plagued by dementia, however, and a depressed boy. I once asked him if he had ever been sober with me, and he said no. I think he may go on about a specific incident which involved a record. He probably won't answer his phone though.

I think M would tell you he loved me, immediately. If you pressed him, he may say that he was [i]in love [/i]with me, but then he will tell you if you ever try and catch me or tie me down, he'll kill you. He will then insist that you tell him everything about yourself and why you are calling. Then he will warn me that you are a dangerous person. He will deny that he is in love with me if I ask him, though.

I think J, my high school sweetness, would burst into song. I know the song-- "Brown Eyed Girl".

Okay.....my baggage is like a carry-on. D, why didn't you tell me you had checked so many bags? sigh.