You know how it is: you go to a party. Fifty people are inside. Then, you step into the back yard and fifty more people are there. You get in line at the keg, cup in hand. Suddenly, without warning, a shirtless young man gets in line behind you. You smell his skin, a sour aroma. When did he last shower? Your gaze travels over his slender physique. Look at those tiny nipples … You think, Yummy. Then you strike up a conversation with him. His name is Matt; he —
Okay, I’ll stop fantasizing. But why doesn’t that happen to me more often? Maybe I don’t go to enough parties with college boys in attendance? Maybe I should throw a keg party. Maybe I should distribute fliers at a nearby college, beforehand. Do you think anyone would come?
It’s yet another gorgeous day, here on the island: sunny, still and about 75 degrees F. I’m back from my two-mile walk on the beach, ready to write for a couple of hours. My boyfriend’s working today, so I’ll be at loose ends this afternoon and this evening. I have plenty of work to do, to keep myself busy.
Lats night, we watched a Netflix rental — Mad Max: The Road Warrior. It’s a 1980s film starring Mel Gibson when he was an unknown. I long ago lost interest in Gibson; he strikes me as an arrogant and narrow-minded fellow. But Road Warrior was a low-budget film I truly enjoyed.
Yesterday, I had 900 visitors to this site. I’ll soon average 1,000 per day. That’s still less than the 1,500-2,000 I averaged on the old blog, but we’re making progress. Thanks to everyone who stopped by yesterday.
Have a nice Tuesday, friends.