Le sexe est de consistance généralement plus tendre que le reste du corps. Il est plus sensible
et très sujet au chatouillement.
C’est bientôt l’été. Le ciel est pâle et brumeux. Il est allongé sur le dos, jambes écartées,
les mains sous la nuque, dans la prairie en fleurs au bord de l’étang.
Le sexe est le point où les humains ressemblent le plus aux animaux.

Now that that is out of my system (yea right if you believe that...)

There is something to be said for falling in love. Or for being in love.

Obviously there is something to be said for it or else people wouldn't want it so badly, there wouldn't be so many silly love songs, and french wouldn't exist, but hey, I just thought I would remind everyone just this once...

So Mr. Awesomeness and I were talking, like we do, for about 5 hours two nights ago about everything and anything and the conversation of fading memories come up. No, I shall set the scene for those of you that are not familiar with this plot line, or for those of you that feel as closely as I do to all of this and it feels like forever has gone by, but I only just met the Brotehrs in September. I have seen them maybe less than a half a dozen times in my life and I am still completely in love with them. But, having only 5 or 6 nights of fun and frolicking with the four of them, I don't have a wealth of memories, just a few choice ones. Not that I have forgotten them completely, but remembering their exact features and dimensions is becoming an increasingly challenging obstacle. He noted the same thing, even though I sent him a b-e-a utiful senior picture. This morning , at around 2 am, I get this continuation to the conversation:

Text message from Mr.Awesomeness: "Hey I finally got that picture open... Wow."
Me: "Oh Yeah?"
Mr. A: "Not that i forgot what you looked like but... wow.... You're gorgeous... My Princess..."

Now I would like to take a moment right here to talk about pet names. While under normal circumstances I hate pet names and anyone calling my "princess" is probably being really petty or obnoxious, it was truly a moment just reading it from him. I dont' know what it is about this kid, but waking up from a nightmare, more than half asleep in my brothers bed, reding that message... I have never felt so... I don't even have a word for it... flattered? Special? Set-apart? Complemented? At any rate, it woke me up well enough. I don't know if he knows how many feelings little wordslike that can evoke... I'm not sure that I even fully understand it... but they do and they did and I am... Something.

So a few hundred text messages and some audio phone issues later we decided to cal it a night. Not out of necessity, mind you. Not becausewe didn't have a million thought provoking things to say. Not because we couldn't have spent 5 hours talking eachother into christmas morning...



I'll finish later, right now I have visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.... if you'll believe that...

I love this feeling. I love staying up until 2 in the morning, talking to him about nothing. I love sighing to fill the sleepy silence in that moment when both of us start to forget that we're on the phone and start imagining that we're right next to eachother. I love the feeling of falling into deep conversation about nothing and everything all at once. I love the way that I can hear in his voice when he winks and when he smiles and when he sighs to fill that moment where he really thinks about how I make him feel.





He might be l'un en dans un millon et digne de mon amour.

...about the way I want to live my life.

I was talking with my mom the other night about Mr.L and why we had to break up and the conversation went something like this:

Super Footwear Girl: Mom I had to break up with Mr.L

Mom: Why, what did you do?

SFG: Nohting mom, we just had a dissagreement and it's just not working

Mom: But why can't you work it out? He's so cute and he seems like a grat guy...

SFG: He is gorgeous and he is a great guy... He's just not for me...

(slight pause, an incredulous look from my mom)

Mom: What do you mean?

SFG: Haven't you ever been with someone you like but you know isn't 'The One?'

(another pause and a truly new expression comes across her face)

Mom: No, I never thought about it like that...


I don't want to waste my time anymore. I don't want to get stuck with someone I feel lukewarm about. I am worth more than that. I am worth the adoration I give to the men that I love. I am worth more than a faint caring. A pssive "go if you want, stay if you must" attitude. I am worth deep, committed, lasting, serious, everything at once love. I am worthy of an attentive and interested friend, lover, mate and partner. Who wants to be "tollerated" in a relationship?

Not this Superhero.

Now that the rant is over, I might actually indeavor to provide my patient readers with a good story. A story about a boy whom I might love.

The Eldest, who needs a name before I start, has racked up more phone time with me than any man alive and, to my complete surprise, he seems to enjoy every minute of it. Mr...Awesomeness is, as we speek, attempting to find ways to earn money with which to visit me. He wants to come visit me. He wants to call me up to talk about nothing and end up on the phone for 5 hours. He wants to play open ended games of 20 questions just to get to know me and he wants to cuddle and he wants to be near me. He wants to make a good impression on my mom and he wants to be my friend.

Then again, don't they all for the first week.

But I think this one really might work. He's smart and strong and capable and he sees right through me and he hears every silent sigh and catches every smile and keeps them for himself. Where he keeps them or if I'll ever get them back, I don't know.

I do know that I have found a new respect for Shakira..."Lucky you were born that far away so We could both make fun of distance Lucky that I love a foreign land for The lucky fact of your existence." While he doesn't live in Behruit, he's certainly not the boy-next-door.

Well... I have to get some sleep tonght... as if it's possible with him running around my brain all night

When one door closes...

Ok I know this will push me past flighty and straight on into psuedo-slut (for lack of a better word, trust me I tried...) but there's someone new.

Not new, necessarily. Just new to me.

No, not new to me. Just new to the realm of possible dating options.

So I have some back story that I just relaized I forgot to give you...

The week of my birthday, The Boys came into town to celebrate. We had an "All November Babies" blowout, with 6 birthdays and about 9 guests. The boys, Night owl, my roomate, Mr. Heartbreaker, Mr. Movie and myself all hunkered down at my roomate's 'rent's shack and utilized their hot tub for some maximum party pleasure. NO, think about that another way. If you know ANYTHING baout me, you know it wasn't quite a scene from the "Real World," but it did include a rousing game of 20 questions in which I can say I learned just enough about all the boys to more specifically direct my intentions and attentions.

Long story short, the night they left I cried my happy little eyes out. I can't really explain it now, but at the time I had no other reaction. It's surreal how quickly I feel like they are my oldest and dearest friends, but I do and I did.

So about a week later, the Eldest calls me up "just to shoot the breeze." (who would need a better reason?) He said something that caught my ear. Something along the lines of "I like you." Ironically enough, he was the reason I was crying the night they left. I could tell when they were here by the way his eyes lingered on me, the way he questioned me, the way he let me smile at him without turning away with shy embarrassment or complete indifference that there was something more than being my friend. Something more than thinking I was a nice enough girl.

Now of course though comes the dilemma. The conflict. The thing that makes my life a sitcom. The physical distance between us, this thing with the Phenomenal Mr.L which, while I am ending, will certainly leave me a little scarred, and the fact that try as I may, I can't figure him out. I can't crack him compltely. I'm picking up what he's throwing down, but I think he's only giving me half a story. Or I'm missing everyother card. For everytime he's intimated that he cares for me, he restrains my level of returning affections. For everytime he leans in a whispers sweet nothings, he pulls away from my mouth. (Proverbially speaking... talking on the phone makes this visual work a little differently.)

But I guess this is old news for me. The good old "How much will they tolerate my affection?" Game.

I don't know how I feel about that, but I certainly know how I feel about him.

Good, in case you were wondering...

Brokenheartsville is a lonely place, it's true.

But is not being broken hearted worth being with the wrong person?

In my first "big girl relationship" which lasted a total of 4 and a half whole weeks, including the "talking" stage, I have learned more about myself and the world than I ever thought I needed to know. I'll admit, up until now I have been painfully naive to how the real world and the relationships we encounter herein work. I thought that people met and either fell in love or didn't. I thought that people were either attracted to one another or weren't. I believed that there was some rhyme and some reason to how people seek eachother out and who makes the cut in each persons personal in crowd. I have discovered that there are so many more grey areas than I could have ever expected.

For instance, you can WANT to have sex with someone without being attracted to them. You can WANT to be with someone even though they have nothing you are looking for in a mate. You can LIKE someone with a twisted mix of sexual tension and sweet naive romantic desires without ever seeing them as someone you could LOVE.

I just never knew it was this complicated. I mean, I am the biggest advocate of complex thoughts and feelings that I know, but this... this is so much bigger than me. This level of confusion is so beyond what I have the capacity to even allow, let's not even assume that I could try to understand it. Becoming a nun would have solved all of these problems. Never feeling his kiss or listening to the soft sweet dreams he had to tell me could have saved my precious naivete.

But I suppose what is done is done. I can't get that ignorance back...

For Shame.

Tonights rant is about speech and when to utilize that portion of your brain's capacity.

It is never okay to talk to someone during a vulnerable and hectic moment in their life about their weight, their height or their make-up in a negative manner.

No one wants to here, in the middle of a kiss, "God, you could so stand to lose these love handles. I don't really love handling them..."

No one cares, in the middle of crying about how horrible their boss is, that you think they might want to invest in waterproof mascara to avoid unsightly under-eye darkening.

Just a friendly reminder from your neighborhood superhero...

So let's talk about not awakening love until the time is right...

If someone can't tell you that they love you, you shouldn't have sex with them.
If you're not attracted to someone, you shouldn't have sex with them.
If someone wants to wait until they are married to have sex or any type of sexual contact, you shouldn't have sex or sexual contact with them.

It just hurts so bad...

i know I haven't had much to say in a while but I am terrified of my blogspot.

I am terrified that whatever I say here is up for any kind of interpretation and I am terrified that anyone can pull it up at any moment and quote me on it. I think someone forgot to read me my miranda rights when i got hauled to court for the contents herein. but so goes my life.

I have found myself in an interesting predicament as of late. I am terrified of everyone.

I am terrified that my boss isn't satisfied with my work and I have lost all initiative concerning such because of my fear.

I am terrified of talking to anyone in my church because God forbid they see something in me that's off white. I am terrified they will see that I am a normal, flawed individual and that they will insist that I need "help."

I am beyond terrified of the Phenomenal Mr. L. TERRIFIED. He's gorgeous and older and more experienced and passionate and suddenly I don't hold any cards and he sees right through me and strips me down to my naked naivete without a second thought as to my modesty and awkwardness. I feel like such an idiot everytime I see him-- like I can't remember how to start a conversation-- believe me, the irony is so not lost on me...

I am just scared that every little thing I say here or anywhere will mean anything or everything or nothing and I'll have nothing left after everyone rapes me of my soul's essentials.

Can you see the dilemma du jour?

Oh jeez.

Mr. L.

Mr. L and his tiny dogs have kept me out late every night for a week solid. Actually, I feel like this thing…. this “relationship” has lasted forever already, but he kindly wished me a “Happy one-week Anniversary” last night. Now don’t get me wrong. Not forever in the sense that dental procedures or “Wuthering Heights” last forever. I mean like twilight sleep, Midsummer Nights Dream forever. I mean like classically, romantically, insanely, softly, sweetly, erratically forever. Not painfully, unfortunately, harmfully, tediously forever.

That makes about as much sense as I feel I make these days. He is just so...phenomenal. He insisted that if I use anything to describe him, in order to keep his reputation intact, it must be the word “phenomenal.” I am having such a hard time recalling anything that has not fallen past his lips in the past week, so phenomenal it is. I can’t place what it is about him and I can’t think of a name for the way I feel and I am pretty sure that I have no idea how he feels or if his feelings even matter, but I know I would rather be with him then, oh I don’t know, get some work done at the office or catch some zzz’s here and there.

Last night we talked about what we want for christmas. To be honest and I hope no one will fault me for the sappiness factor of the next couple of words but I have what I want. All I've ever wanted for christmas is someone who genuinely enjoys my attentions and affections as much as I do theirs and I think I finally found it. Or it found me. Or the magical kismet of how we met found us. I don't know. Two people, completely unrelated, having no other possible connection and just finding eachother...

Ok, I fault MYSELF for being that sappy...