OK...

...I'm boring myself and that's never good. It seems as though I have more fun dreaming than I do when I'm awake. Last night I dreamt about a particular Chicago Bear and it was, I must say, magnificent.

There's only one NFL player that I can accurately picture naked from memory. I think I'll have to do think of him more often, 'twas a goodly thing. A while back, maybe 2 months, I stopped seeing a guy who I had been seeing since last summer. I can't conjure his nude self right now but I'm sure that I could manage it if I were so inclined. He started calling me again and you know men, they won't take "bugger off" for an answer once they get ready to do the horizontal bop. I think I can help him get ready with that if I am so inclined.

Sadly, I've been avoiding that particular dance lately, not that I'm doing so on purpose but an air of celibacy has dropped upon me like a baton drops on Nancy Kerrigan's knees. I can't seem to avoid it. Should I decide that I absolutely MUST have sex, I can either call this guy and ask him outright or I could lower my standards and find a suitable stranger. Either way, no man is getting 2 orgasms up on me anytime in the foreseeable future. It took more than one cheating husband to teach me that particular lesson but I've learned it well. Of course, my rerun dude is even with me for now, we're love-love and that's a good thing. The only problem I see is that this guy isn't a young quarterback but rather a middle aged Irish dude from a Latin country that I shan't be naming as yet. You can just call him rerun dude, I do.

I don't call him rerun dude to his face mind you, but after decades and decades, I can't keep a bunch of men straight in my brain without a bit of a social tag and this guy is, actually, a rerun. I can remember that well enough. Of course, that wouldn't work in practice so I just call them all dude when I'm out with them. It may be a bit lacking in sensitivity but I promise, I don't ever abuse men to whom I am not related by blood or marriage.