Once again my dogs think I'm completely crazy, laughing hysterically as I sit in front of this funny computer thing.

Yes, I know there are people of both descriptions who go for the glorious mutuality -- and I've certainly had my share of that -- but I'm also amazed, even now that I'm "mature" that there are still men who are playing this idiot game. Or, even more disheartening, the ones who seem to like you really well, things go along nicely and then, all of a sudden they get all squirrely because ... I don't know, best I can tell they think you want to marry them and bear the fruit of their loins. Which, when you're "mature" is particularly dumb, since my children are of fruit-of-loin-bearing age now.

I always wonder, when you've done all that withholding of yourself, what you end up actually holding...

Don't mind me. I'm just mulling.

But, 'Spaw, could we use a nice scented body oil instead of all that Wesson? And the rubber sheets are out. Time enough for those when we all finally check into the Neil Young Xtreme ward...

ww