leftunspoken's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Arizona and general rambliness AZ is gone now. Back to home I guess. Back where he belongs. Do people do that? Belong places, I mean. Do you have somewhere that is entirely home, somewhere or someone that is where you are supposed to be? That must be nice. Me...I need a lap. One to borrow. Lie to me. Tell me I'm home. Let me straddle your lap, fold my legs around your back, curl forward (breasts pressed to your chest, head on your shoulder, face pressed to your neck). Let me breathe you deeply while you make long smooth strokes from the top of my head, down my hair to my waist. Stop your hand at my hip and hug me to you a little. Then pick your hand back up and cradle the back of my head. Hush me with nonsense whispers. Men only do that on tv. Ever notice that? Not the lap thing...I've never had a man complain when I ask to occupy his lap until I feel warm and brave again...No I mean the cradling the back of your head thing. Every time a girl cries on movies or tv, some concerned-looking man pulls her to him and puts one hand up to the back of her head. Real men never do that. Oh, trust me - in my 30 years I've cried in front of a million men, and plenty of them pulled me toward them and held me, but never once has one of them put his hand to the back of my head. I always wondered about that. Who told them (the actors) all to do that? Someone, somewhere must really do this. Sorry. I'm rambling. I'm not so always there on Fridays. I think I need a drink. But if I start that I'll never finish the major spring cleaning project currently on the weekend agenda. Oh bother. 4:20 p.m. - May 28, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||