Yup. Unless he's left his shoes out smack in the middle of the hall again and I've tripped over them at 6:30 a.m. *again*. Well, no, even then. Maybe sometimes.
Ok, this so completely a man thing. Joe does this to me.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Yup. Unless he's left his shoes out smack in the middle of the hall again and I've tripped over them at 6:30 a.m. *again*. Well, no, even then. Maybe sometimes.
Ok, this so completely a man thing. Joe does this to me.
I keep hoping, but alas, I'm Just Friends Girl. Everyone looks at me, laughs at my jokes and wonders what else is on. I fight crime. Platonically.
I think I was imprinted at an early age that There Is Love, and There Is Friendship, and Never Shall the Twain Meet.
I can't even process this. Seriously, I try to imagine love without friendship and my brain just goes ERROR: INVALID INPUT. PLEASE USE THE BACK BUTTON ON YOUR BROWSER.
Well, I see it in other people, and I *want* it, but I just can't imagine having it. I think it's WAY more important that the theoretical Mr. Teppy *like* me, than it is that he wants to have sex with me. (Well, I mean, that needs to be there, too, but -- in my experience, guys will have sex and aren't too picky about with whom [no offense, Buffista guys, but like I said, this has been *my* experience], but they're a lot more picky about who they want to actually spend time with, in a clothes-on way.)
Thanks for the good wishes everybody.
I like coffee/espresso and sushi and bicycling. Can I move to the West Coast now?
Excellent jacket, Aimee.
Yes, -t, yes you can.
YAY!
t starts packing
Mr. H kept leaving his in the front room along with his coats, hats, and sometimes jeans. One day I was cleaning the house and it seemed there were more of his clothes in the living room than in his closet, so I took most of his clothes out of the closet and hung them on the mantle and put his folded clothes on the bookshelves and lined his shoes up in front of the chair. Poor thing had a total WTF!?! moment when he got home, but then laughed and laughed.
I am the shoe-death-trap-setter in the family.