Sex and Love, as usual

Everything keeps coming back to a few key points about relationships.

Sex without love is fruitless. It is a tree without purpose, for beauty only.

Is my sex, an ornament?

A garden filler?

What is sex, without love?

Not for me. That’s what.

It’s a good thing love comes naturally to me.

I fell in love with a man today, crossing the road.

I hoped that my eyes would penetrate the back of his head and into his soul, that he would turn around to let me see his face, let me touch his face and put his hands around my body.

It was his shirt.

I fell in love again with a woman last night, that I’ve never spoken to, one I’ve only seen in pictures. A woman so beautiful that my heart skips beats when I look at her hair, her face, her skin tone.

I fall in love so easily, all the time, in and out. And I worry.

Have I built too many walls around my lasting love that my standards are unreachable?

Am I still yet to experience true love?

No, I’ve definitely felt true love.

He was a challenge like none I’ve known before or since. A real man with love in his heart, and an alcoholic sleeve to rest his worries on. I fixed him for a long time, I looked after him, and he kept me busy. Kept me wanting, and kept me in arms reach of perfection.

I loved him so much, that I moved heaven and earth to make a life for us, as he did.

But addiction is a terrible affliction, and he had too many. Too many addictions ahead of me in the line, I couldn’t bare it.

So I made a list.

Things a man would need to do in order to be my forever-lover.

- Love me.
- Sing to me.
- Read stories to me at night time.
- Enjoy the music I enjoy, whether he dances or not, his appreciation is of the utmost importance.
- Willingness to change his mind, and compromise.
- The ability to see great things in his future, and dream, like I do, without depending on whether or not he’ll get there.
- Hair that suits my mood. If his hair-do becomes unsuitable, he must be willing to change his hair back to the way that I like it. Any man of any colour of any size of any stench could win my heart with a hair-do. And that’s no word of a lie. It has to suit them, too. It can’t just be any, just one, that I like on everyone. It has to be the one that suits them, best.

I can’t decide if I’m happy in my life or not.

I think I am.

ATA Double-page-spread

Dave tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned around, “Yes?”

“ATA double-page-spread,” he said.

I blinked.

Dave leaned forward.

“ATA double-page-spread…?” He said again.

“I’ll ask Vicki,” I shrugged, attempting to appear in the know.

I picked up the phone.

…*ring ring*

Vicki picked up the phone, “Yes?”

“um … ATA double-page-spread, apparently.”

“Oh, Steven,” Vicki said.

“Thanks.”

I hung up the phone and walked over to Steven.

“ATA double-page-spread?”

Steven looks up.

“Jason,” he said.

I walked over to Jason, stood in front of him for a moment, staring at him.

Jason looked up slowly, and removed his headphones.

“…Kate..?” Jason asked.

“ATA double-page-spread?”

“Oh!” He said, “I’ll make the call.”

I looked at Dave. Shrugged.

“Thanks,” Dave said.

I sighed.

“I do what I can.”

And wandered back to my desk.

I Want

I remember now, what to blog about.

Thanks for the support in the interim.

Love works, relationships work, when the people involved have the same level of comfortableness sexually.

Thoughts like these are the ones I used to blog, the ones I like to blog. Random thoughts that didn’t go anywhere else. Days awash with emotion that warrant an audience, a bored audience that enjoys peering into my life. I could write anything, provided it’s written poetically.

Things I want at the moment.

You around.

A trip to Canada.

A trip to Japan.

A new pair of shoes to wear with my new skirt and tops.

Daniel Jackson as a husband.

My best friend back. Any of the four that have recently, and not so recently left my life.

Time for books, and interest again.

Alcohol.

The ability to cook.

Guts.

Weight loss.

A degree, or at least the start of a degree, and also the money to complete a degree.

A job with security.

A job that takes no less than, and no more than four days a week.

A new journal.

My psychologist back, but only if it’s free.

A savings scheme.

A decent bra, or two, that are not too tight.

A sense of uniformity, continuity, universal oneness, ascension, adventure, and momentum.

Companionship.

Better grammar, spelling and historical knowledge.

The chance to fight for my life, or that of another.

Fear. Real fear.

A working jaw.

More hours in the day spent physically active.

A father in arm’s reach.

My mother living much closer.

The ability to move matter with my mind.

A loyal pet. A soft pet. A low-maintenance pet.

A mask, dreadlocks, sandals, a flowing skirt, and a cool stream.

More art.

The eye of Ra.

A teleporter, a private jet, or one billion frequent flyer points.

A lost treasure, a hand device and naqueda in my blood.

Bullet proof skin.

My brothers much, much closer.

You around.

We all have our vices.

…ten points for guessing the exact episode I was watching while writing this.
…five for the name of show.

That’s all for the moment.