So here I sit, with one fellow who seems very intent on meeting me (about which a sane person would say “how flattering!” but I say “clear signs of his lack of good judgment and/or questionable sanity”) and another fellow who is so off-limits as to be made of cyanide-laced-plutonium-snake-bullets! And of course I’m most giggly about Dr. Cyanide.
Don’t worry – I’m not crazy myself (although I play one on tv). Never shall I poop where I also eat. (ew.) But it’s the difference between the known commodity (i.e. I know this forbidden fruit is smart and handsome and successful and cool, and did I mention he winks? He’s a champion winker? Sigh about the winking.) vs. the unknown commodity (i.e. online dude who could look like Lurch or be as talkative as Lurch or as successful as Lurch or be in any manner Lurchfull.) I go towards what I already know, even when I also already know that what I know is a no-go.
But correct me if I’m wrong: the winking was dirty pool on Dr. Cyanide’s part, yes? I mean, he also knows that he’s fruit of the No-No-No-No-No variety, so why must he tease?
The Queen suggested (because how smart is she? Oh so smart!) that I peek at his left hand. And I will. Even though I a little bit don’t want to know, because of COURSE he’s married and probably a Dad and therefore even more cyanidey and plutoniumish. That’s too much evidence and I wouldn’t even be able to fantasize anymore. Right now I can get a total Pretty Woman/Working Girl/Name Your Completely Unrealistic Chick Flick Where The Girl Does What Nobody Should Do and Wins Anyway Here-type fantasy going when I need a little pick-me-up.
But once I know he’s married? I will fantasize no more.
I tried to fantasize about Potential Dude, but I can’t shed the certain feeling that anybody found through this channel couldn’t possibly be a winner. My fantasies about Potential Dude normally end up with him borrowing money, or possibly my car. To pick up the drums. For his band. Which someday will totally be the next Megadeath or Starland Vocal Band. (shudder)
ANYWAY, by this weekend I’m guessing that one man will be officially married and the other officially crazy/creepy/crappy, and so I guess I should really enjoy this, the week of wacky, faboo potential! The week where my fantasy life could be of a mysterious stranger who pursues me (and may or may not be a millionaire or prince of a foreign land!) or a handsome professional type who’s a total sweetie, and the exciting prospect of fruit all “hands-offy!”
Don’t worry – I’m not crazy myself (although I play one on tv). Never shall I poop where I also eat. (ew.) But it’s the difference between the known commodity (i.e. I know this forbidden fruit is smart and handsome and successful and cool, and did I mention he winks? He’s a champion winker? Sigh about the winking.) vs. the unknown commodity (i.e. online dude who could look like Lurch or be as talkative as Lurch or as successful as Lurch or be in any manner Lurchfull.) I go towards what I already know, even when I also already know that what I know is a no-go.
But correct me if I’m wrong: the winking was dirty pool on Dr. Cyanide’s part, yes? I mean, he also knows that he’s fruit of the No-No-No-No-No variety, so why must he tease?
The Queen suggested (because how smart is she? Oh so smart!) that I peek at his left hand. And I will. Even though I a little bit don’t want to know, because of COURSE he’s married and probably a Dad and therefore even more cyanidey and plutoniumish. That’s too much evidence and I wouldn’t even be able to fantasize anymore. Right now I can get a total Pretty Woman/Working Girl/Name Your Completely Unrealistic Chick Flick Where The Girl Does What Nobody Should Do and Wins Anyway Here-type fantasy going when I need a little pick-me-up.
But once I know he’s married? I will fantasize no more.
I tried to fantasize about Potential Dude, but I can’t shed the certain feeling that anybody found through this channel couldn’t possibly be a winner. My fantasies about Potential Dude normally end up with him borrowing money, or possibly my car. To pick up the drums. For his band. Which someday will totally be the next Megadeath or Starland Vocal Band. (shudder)
ANYWAY, by this weekend I’m guessing that one man will be officially married and the other officially crazy/creepy/crappy, and so I guess I should really enjoy this, the week of wacky, faboo potential! The week where my fantasy life could be of a mysterious stranger who pursues me (and may or may not be a millionaire or prince of a foreign land!) or a handsome professional type who’s a total sweetie, and the exciting prospect of fruit all “hands-offy!”
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