posted by dave on Monday, January 21, 2008 at 1:39 AM in category ramblings

I think that my problem is that I think too much. Life would be so much more simple, if only I'd stop thinking.

I'd have a lot more fun, that's for sure.

To be an off the cuff, spur of the moment guy - it certainly has its appeal. Fewer regrets would be one thing cool about it. I mean, it's hard to regret those things to which I'd never given any real thought. Reflexive, instinctive behavior comes with its own built-in excuse.

Also, I wonder, who can handle honesty? I mean, really handle it. Not like that one girl, who claims that honesty is paramount even while she hides behind half-truths and shields herself with unwarranted extrapolations. And certainly not like that other girl who, in her short lifetime, has never faced truth in its most brutal form.

Anyway, I have a problem. I've had it for a while now. I'm in love with two different women. One of them knows without a doubt, and the other, I suspect, only fears what my feelings might be.

These are extreme cases, to be sure. I deal with them the same way that I deal with everything else - I muddle through as best as I can. Usually, this means that I bottle things up and only allow the minimum amount of pressure to escape. Just enough, because exploding, I think, would be gross. And messy.

But that's not what I wanted to write about tonight.

What I wanted: to write about was lips.

I'm not what you'd call a breast-man. Or an ass-man. Or a leg-man.

I've always been drawn to eyes. Windows to the soul and all that.

But sometimes, something else captures my attention. Sometimes, like right now, it's lips that I can't stop thinking about. Certain lips.

The three pseudo-words that I keep coming up with are these:

Fan, Tas, and Tic.

It's weird, I think, to be so fixated on an activity that could fit perfectly well into a PG-13 movie. But that's the way it is, for me, right now. My fantasies stop, abruptly, before they can earn that coveted R-rating. I don't know why they stop. It makes very little sense to me, so I can't even begin to explain it to anyone else. It is, quote simply, what it is. Deal with it, or don't deal with it. I live with those two choices all the time. I can't be the only one capable of it.

I wonder, who can handle honesty?

Because, here it is.

Or, to be more precise, there it was.

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