02/22/05 Tuesday -- Speaking of a Smithy...
Some things you just can't concentrate properly on until some of the other detrius of your life is taken care of.. sorted through.. out of the way. Doesn't mean your mind can't dwell upon it, because the human mind is an amazing thing -- I find that an unbelievable number of unrelated topics can coexist and evolve (or fail to evolve ;-) simultaneously in that little bit of grey matter parked at the top of Mount Amy.
Speaking of which.. once in a great while someone happens along that makes the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up & your body do involuntary Kegels. Sometimes it's the way the smell... or the way they dance... the way they look, move, walk, talk... if you're very lucky, it's the way they think, and most lucky; a combination of the above. Least often, and a very close & iffy second in the "importance line" for me: it's the way they write.
Our first communication began with his tongue in cheek query directly to my email: "Do I win anything?" A sparse 22 words later, he'd managed to impress me, flatter me, titillate me, leaving me wanting more... which, I'm coming to understand, is something of a calling card with him. A surrepticious link in his profile (kick ASS! I LOVE it when people are smart enough to do that sort of thing!) led me to his blog ( http://fatherknowsnothing.blogspot.com/ ) where many more words began to flesh out an awfully interesting persona fairly dripping with wit, charm, intelligence, thought, sweet caring moments, responsibility, laughter, interesting connections & hobbies ... aw, hell -- read him yourself.
In short order we'd moved our little mutual admiration society into a more versatile IM, and enjoyed a couple of uncharacteristically intense conversations for someone I've known for such a brief span of time. Not only that, but in re-reading those conversations (ain't archiving da bomb?) I find that I don't -- scanning them quickly -- get the same bacchanalian feel I had in the thick of things. I began to wonder: Had I imagined? Surely NOT! Went back, read more slowly... and lo and behold, soon there came that tightening of the stomach.. flushing of the epidermis... frission down the spine... and *blush* as I mentioned earlier... involuntary Kegels. It was an intimate dance of wordcrafting, little standing alone but as one small comment followed another, layers of inference built upon layers creating a heated environment far more breathtaking than any I've been privileged to in quite awhile. It was beautifully interspersed with tiny fragments of respite, often laughter, that related to nothing heated at all. Amazingly enough, not once was there ever an outrightly crude statement belonging more to a third rate brothel than an awesome conversation. Unbelievable.
If he lived closer than 854.8 miles away (dammitall anyway), I'd have already broken my own rules & had one of us on the other's doorstep (maybe other parts of the house, too? >:) ) quicker than you can say "lickity split". Can he call me? Hell yeah. Just as soon as we develop some other topics of conversation. I have a daughter to raise, and spontaneous combustion isn't covered in my life insurance policy.
Speaking of which.. once in a great while someone happens along that makes the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up & your body do involuntary Kegels. Sometimes it's the way the smell... or the way they dance... the way they look, move, walk, talk... if you're very lucky, it's the way they think, and most lucky; a combination of the above. Least often, and a very close & iffy second in the "importance line" for me: it's the way they write.
Our first communication began with his tongue in cheek query directly to my email: "Do I win anything?" A sparse 22 words later, he'd managed to impress me, flatter me, titillate me, leaving me wanting more... which, I'm coming to understand, is something of a calling card with him. A surrepticious link in his profile (kick ASS! I LOVE it when people are smart enough to do that sort of thing!) led me to his blog ( http://fatherknowsnothing.blogspot.com/ ) where many more words began to flesh out an awfully interesting persona fairly dripping with wit, charm, intelligence, thought, sweet caring moments, responsibility, laughter, interesting connections & hobbies ... aw, hell -- read him yourself.
In short order we'd moved our little mutual admiration society into a more versatile IM, and enjoyed a couple of uncharacteristically intense conversations for someone I've known for such a brief span of time. Not only that, but in re-reading those conversations (ain't archiving da bomb?) I find that I don't -- scanning them quickly -- get the same bacchanalian feel I had in the thick of things. I began to wonder: Had I imagined? Surely NOT! Went back, read more slowly... and lo and behold, soon there came that tightening of the stomach.. flushing of the epidermis... frission down the spine... and *blush* as I mentioned earlier... involuntary Kegels. It was an intimate dance of wordcrafting, little standing alone but as one small comment followed another, layers of inference built upon layers creating a heated environment far more breathtaking than any I've been privileged to in quite awhile. It was beautifully interspersed with tiny fragments of respite, often laughter, that related to nothing heated at all. Amazingly enough, not once was there ever an outrightly crude statement belonging more to a third rate brothel than an awesome conversation. Unbelievable.
If he lived closer than 854.8 miles away (dammitall anyway), I'd have already broken my own rules & had one of us on the other's doorstep (maybe other parts of the house, too? >:) ) quicker than you can say "lickity split". Can he call me? Hell yeah. Just as soon as we develop some other topics of conversation. I have a daughter to raise, and spontaneous combustion isn't covered in my life insurance policy.
posted by Cinnabar1 at 4:30 PM
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