6:38 a.m. - September 08, 2004
check, check, check
The heatwave continues but meteorologists say this Indian Summer's last gasp comes Thursday, followed by a quick descent into what passes for autumn and winter here in Northern California. I have post-Indian Summer plans and dislike being held up when I have something brewing because if history is any prophet then my idea will fade quickly the longer it's delayed. Must act now!
There is a woman also doing her internship at the agency and I am undeniably attracted to her. Each time her shirt rides up and exposes her backside, it's all I can do to refrain from licking her. Erotic, the flash of skin between shirt and pants. Speaks fluent French, stupendously intelligent, our personalities mesh very well together. She's also married. Bummer because this is one woman I'd ask out. Of course, this ounce of bravado is safe to display because her marital status makes her off limits and as such, bravado doesn't get me anywhere. It's confusing, though. I mean, why her? Why don't I feel the same towards guys?
Maybe it's because she flirts back and I'm flirt-starved? Steve called last night and said for his birthday he wants me and I rolled my eyes, said no-can-do and knock off the sappy Three's Company lines because he is no Jack Tripper and I am no ditz who falls for scripts. He wishes I were more open to dating and relationships; I wish I could tell him I find him utterly unattractive in any sense apart from friendship. Now I'm beginning to realize why I'm alone: I hold out for something unattainable, for smart, handsome, moral, and attracted to me.
Spoke via messages with Brad; therapy resumes later than expected because he'll be out of town for a bit. He asked me to write him a letter and refused to provide any more instruction other than that. A private letter, or one he'll actually read? Something to burn in one of those exorcisms that seem a lot of spectacle and not much substance followed by a quick proclamation of I feel so much better! or something equally trite? My inclination is to write a business letter commenting on the too-comfortable chair in his office. I like firm, not soft.
Did I also mention I woke up ravenously horny but that my hand and dick are tired of seeing each other, leaving me in a bind?
