Ohhhhhhh baby this is so wroooong!

What do you weigh – five-hundred?  Love.  It.  Six-five?  You’re really very big, and the pleasure of your, imagined company, your slow, flirty humor — it works.  Quite nicely.  Sounds like you’re really paying attention when you say my name three times the way you say it when you come fix things in my apartment.  But I know you’re full of shit.

In “reality” your weight’s a non-issue.  You’ve compensated for the “short-coming,” as people do.  Hilarity is how I’ve compensated for mine.

So, as I’m sketching it, you sit on the sofa while I smear your ass from different angles.  From your position, you can gaze at the mark on my back that I got from my surgery, and I call you names when I twist to see your face — a beast — a fat fucker – maybe I’m the ‘fat fucker’ whatever — names Lil’ Kim calls Biggie on that track when she accuses him of eating different foods, and they break the bed down.  Then I might flip around and face you, bite, smell you…

You’re inappropriate, but somehow you’ve gotten your cue from me.  I am the lonely middle-aged broad in the ‘penthouse’?  Why should I be embarrassed that I enjoyed your company when you tried to fix my DVD player?  Maybe you are a clever abuser of vulnerability, but remember this Big Daddy — if I do you, I’ll know exactly what I’m doing, because I’ve got you by twenty years, and I didn’t get this old for nothing.

For asexuals cake is sex

Will Cotton – The Daily Beast

(Cat forwarded this cake link to me a bit back — I’m in love with it.)

I watched a documentary on asexuality.  The documentary depressed me.  I wrote a novel with the premise that platonic relationships don’t exist.  I’m not implying that platonic means asexual.  I just believe that people want their sexuality validated.  It doesn’t have to be overt.

I try to pick them out, asexuals.  I’m intrigued by people who don’t have sexuality.  I know some of these people.

One was a beautiful man.  But…nothing.  So there was no reciprocal energy.  I had nothing to feed on.  This is subtle below the surface energy I speak of, not detectable flirting.  He was young – when I refer to my interaction I don’t mean that I considered something between us.  Though I didn’t have a desire to be with him, there still might be sexual energy in there, somewhere — helloooooo.

I was old enough to be his mother.  People may think that he didn’t radiate sexual energy toward me because I was much older, or maybe he was gay.  You may not want to have sex with the old woman but you want your own sexuality validated in some way, which would involve giving out a vibe, flirting.  Besides, I can see sexuality without interacting with a person.  With him I didn’t feel it in his aura.  I can feel sexual energy even coming from gay men if not directed exactly at me.

He had never been involved with anyone.  I assume he was a virgin.  Someone told me that he had finally begun seeing a woman.  It was hard for me to conceptualize.  In this program last night there were asexuals who had been involved with people.  Some had to explain to their partners that they had no desire for sex, others went through the motions.

This asexual group in the documentary marched in the Gay Pride Parade in San Francisco.  They are after all part of an alternative sexual movement.  Though initially curious, watching them made me irritated.  I turned off the program when I started getting heartburn.  Am I that disturbed by this?

These asexuals have events, parties, meetings, and their icon is cake.  Cake replaces sex for them.  They put cake on their invitations, use it in slogans.  They have love affairs with cake. People know that I’m a cake enthusiast – see my side-bar.

I’m on the opposite end of the spectrum, but I have something in common with asexuals — this is just wrong.  I love cake.  I love sex.  Cake never replaces sex.  Not even that sexy cake up there.