Last night, half out of boredom and half because I knew he'd let me get away with it, I nuzzled up against my friend Brad's chest while we were mid-conversation and listened to his heartbeat. The other people in the room told Brad that it'd be all right if he smacked me. But Brad let me just maneuver myself under his arm, cornering him on the couch.
I've known Brad forever. (Well, OK, nine years.) Flirting with him comes to no good. In the beginning, I'd just make eyes at him as I walked past him in the drama building. Or I'd cautiously make a double-meaning comment to see if he responded favorably.
Now that I'm older and don't take it as seriously, I do everything short of molesting him. It's sorta fun to play "How Much Can I Get Away With." At one point last night while I was arched over him, I almost bit him on the neck and kissed him about five times.
His only comment about it was, "Well, you're being awfully friendly."
I may as well have been a cat who curled up in his lap.
But, on the plus side, it's harmless, and he's warm.
We were both over at Larry's house. Brad was there to see Larry. I was there to see everyone - and Brad.
While there, I told Larry that I'd written something new on the blog that he might like. Larry told me that he hated the blog.
Larry told me that he hated the blog because I was a publishable and marketable writer and, for some reason, I didn't believe that. He said that it was disappointing and sad that I "kept giving it away for free." Apparently, I'm a word slut.
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