I shall call him squishy and he shall be mine ... and he shall be my squishy!
Come on, squishy ... come on, little squishy!
OWWW!  Bad squishy, bad squishy!
 
You know, maybe Dory isn't that far off.   Love is a lot like the squishy.  You think it's all cute and cuddly ... and you are so drawn to it that you just can't keep your mind off of it.  You have to reach out and touch it, just to test it ...
 
And then, the little bastard stings you.
 
Today's conversation with J started gently enough, with the usual "hey how are you" blah blah blah.  Then, of course, it got raunchy rather quickly.  The conversation twisted and turned from sex, to anal sex (inspired by the Tucker Tries Buttsex story, I presume), to threesomes, to swinging, to his complete revelation about some of his past with an ex-girlfriend that was a total freak (as in, Madonna-in-the-early-90s kind of freak).  This of course inspired a tangent in the conversation about what the deal was with he and I (he started it).  I, of course, thought for a full hour before replying to it, and my soul-baring introspection freaked him out a bit, I think.  The gist of it was something to the effect of:

• How I found it absolutely charming that he was so worried about me living alone.  There was an instance of local dummies getting drunk and shooting each other last Sunday night while he was here, and he is still talking about it.  He's lived in Columbus his entire life, so he knows that what imbiciles we don't breed here ... well, they just get imported from other cities in Ohio.
• How I was burned out on doing stupid things with even stupider people, and that I was burned out on being my anal-retentive and analytical self.
• How I had spent my entire life being analytical and risk-averse, and "while it's been very beneficial and profitable in my professional life, it's surely not done wonders for my personal life. "
• And finally, the kicker (or the nail in the coffin, as it were): How I was tired of always listening to my head, and that it was high time I listened to my heart.  And also, and I quote: "I really enjoy having you around.  A lot.  I don't regret last Sunday, not a bit.  But I also want to spend the time to learn more about you, spend time doing things with you, and really give this a try."  (Loose translation:  You're hot, great in bed, and a lot of fun.  But if this is going anywhere, damn it, step up and be a man and say so.  Otherwise, cut me loose and let me get back to my busy life of whining and moping about.  Thanks.)

To all of this ... there was no immediate reply.  Fuck.

There was other sassy retorts to other things, but a response to all that went unsaid.  I know he got the email.  Double fuck.

At what point do I just get to be alone for the rest of my life?  I think I'm damn near there. 

Today's smile of the day:  R dropped me a note to remark that he made sure to enclose a CD he burned for me in a bright yellow envelope, as he knew it was my favorite color.  I replied that he just was saying that, and that it was a mere coincidence.  He then replied with something to the effect that he had planned it that way.  I was flattered that he even remembered something as trivial as my favorite color.  This made me smile, and I really needed it.  Everyone else had spent the day mind-fucking me.  And for once ... one of the people making me nuts wasn't R.  Damn, that's a first.

Possibly more updates later, after Princess is in bed.  She's watching "MEEEE-MOE" for about the 15,387th time.  Sigh.