I've been trying to figure it out...so I was mildly checking out this guy, a friend of a friend, in a bar the other night. Before I knew it, it was a few hours later, and we were making out in the middle of a party. I'm trying to determine how I got from thinking, "That guy's kinda cute" to such an end result. Was I being a sexual predator? Or did I somehow trick him into making a move, thus living up to my reputation for being conniving? In either case, I don't know, it seems that the thrill of the chase has lost its, well, thrill for me.
Gawd. And I fucking hate hickeys.
And the Thomas W. exchange has moved to a conversation about nudity, or rather, nakedness. I wonder if I can find that poem that Ms. Girton had us read in AP English about the naked and the nude. (Found it!)
And if you don't like my blog, go ahead and read Zach's. At least one anonymous commentator has made the switch. It's OK, I'll never know.
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