Flora Fling's Filings

Sad

We've fallen again. It feels good. An emotional warm blanket. I can feel your resistance but then, you've always been a little shy. Now you are having second thoughts....or maybe you weren't having first thoughts, just not thinking.

I'm holding my heart at bay. I'm doing a great job but quickly, my heart escapes the starting gate. I soon realize I cannot run this mile again, my heart will give out. I know the truth, my instinct tells me but my heart doesn't want to listen. I cannot let my heart die again.

We agree. We agree to discuss, delicately. You are not like the others. Your let down talk is full of charm and a bit of fear, but you are clearer with your thoughts than in the past. I listen, I don't interrupt. I cross my fingers and hope you will say what I want to hear.

Even with your clearer thoughts you take me on a long winded path. I am blinded by the ambience, the sweetness of your energy. I am blinded by hope.

We arrive at the end of the path and you say the words that I will remember when I remember the pain. Similiar to the words from last time that you don't recall saying to me.

You want to keep caring but its too much, my emotions are boiling. I refuse to cry. I steel myself. We walk in silence. Nothing can be changed now. I dare not open my mouth lest the raw emotions escape and sting my eyes.

I entered with my eyes wide open. I cannot crumble as before.

I will hold my breath and suffocate my heart to avoid that painful path again.

S*xual Healin'

Dear H,

Sigh...does Mr. C have a penis, you ask?? Looks like I'll never know. I got dreadfully wasted on Thursday night, quite by accident. It was at ladiez night, Marnie's last day of work so the guys were invited and Mr. C was there. After too many bottom shelf drinks and not enough food in my stomach, I had to be walked around Madison Square Park at 23rd St. in an effort to sober up. Too late!

He then took me to Live Bait to get some food in my stomach. I spent much of the time vomiting in the bathroom (so completely juvenile and embarrassing but a complete accident). He finally put me in a cab and sent me off. I had to open the cab door twice on the way home because I felt I would vomit. I had the WORST hangover the next day that lasted until night! It was wretched!

We did manage some kissing b4 I became completely useless. I was horribly embarrassed about my behavior the next morning. But he didn't even call me the next day to see if I made it home!!! You don't put a drunk woman in a cab in NYC and not check on her to see if:

a) she is hungover and how hungover

b) to see if she made it home safely

c) is not kidnapped and killed by some crazy Jamaican cabdriver!!

Instead, he texted me on SATURDAY!!! TOO LATE!! This guy is 40. H, maybe I'm being harsh but he is 3 steps behind in the clue dept. He waits too many days between contact. This does not sound like someone who is that excited about me.

I attempted to go to work on Friday after my "fraternity" night out. I thought I could shake off the hangover. I couldn't. So I ended up at booty call boy's apartment and convalesced over there for the remainder of the afternoon. Seriously though, if I wasn't horizontal it was ugly. The nausea was intense. Ok I did participate in adult activities but only very passively and missionary.

Here's the weekend kicker. I went to my friend Bob's party Saturday night. I was relieved to find he was serving drinks in tiny plastic cups (portion control). I wore this smokin' dress that I had been dying to wear out. I was completely overdressed but that night I dressed for my own amusement. There are never any men to meet at Bob's parties anyway. I had my hair done like Rita Hayworth. Very glamorous. The ratio of females to males was 3 to 1. All the ladies were very complimentary of my dress. The men...SILENT, none of them made any comments (except a few I knew)! If the women love my dress, then certainly the guys must. One guy at the end of the night even admitted to being intimidated (boring! boring! boring!). If a girl looks hot and you are too scared to talk to her or to tell her how great she looks then you are a weenie in my book.

A certain gentleman did offer me a lift home. When I got home and shut my apartment door, I sighed with a bit of relief, due to previous relations with said gentleman. However, that didn't last long. The rest of the evening.....well....click here.

May you never suffer the wretched hangover I had.

Smooches,

Flora