Hidden Agenda


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Internet connectivity is ass right now.

It says, “it” who is it, what is it, my computer says it is connected but there is nothing there.


Oh well.

I feel bad, however, not that much, I missed my blogging last night.

(Oh, I am in now, but lost it again, damn you Comcast)

I had an impromptu snuggle session and movie watching night with my friend last night.

We had made plans for this upcoming Friday, but yesterday, as things turned out, was the day, and snuggling, it was had.

I actually expressed to my friend that I was impressed with the snuggling, not just from the coziness of it all, but from the, no moves were made, stand point.

I sort of expected that perhaps moves were to be on the make.

“Let’s get together and snuggle and watch movies,” sounds like the prelude to something else, you know.

At least in my prior experience.

“Nope, I read one of your blogs and you said something to the effect that you needed some human contact, voila, snuggle sesh and movie,” he said.

No hidden agenda.

Just a cuddle.

You know who had the hidden agenda?


That’s who.

I realized this today, or last night, as I was getting ready for bed, completely throwing my blog to the wind so that I could get some sleep before my nine-hour nanny shift today, I was the person who was expecting something else.

I am the person who wants more.

Not necessarily from my friend, he’s my friend.

But when I went to bed and knelt down to say thanks for my day I giggled, I got exactly what I had asked for, a snuggle session, but what I want, is a snuggle session that leads to sex.

There said it.


But there’s more.

I want a snuggle session that leads to sex and a relationship and I suppose I should re-arrange that want to be more along the lines of I want to be in a relationship, have sex, and get snuggles.

I want my cake and I want to eat it too.

It was fantastic practise, I have to say, though, asking for what I want, communicating with my friend, talking about what was happening, and then just having some fun watching a bad movie and getting introduced to my first episode of Sherlock.

Which was amaze balls.

And now I have a back up when I am waiting impatiently for the next Game of Thrones episode.

I don’t have a regret about how it all fell out and I am positive that it was a great step along the way of taking action in my dating life and not living in fantasy.

I still live in fantasy, but it’s getting a little easier, teeny, tiny, increments at a time, to drop the fantasy and move forward.

There’s always going to be someone I could ask out and there are always folks who want to ask me out.

It’s when the two mesh that I am excited for.

Over the last few months it feels like I am getting to sift through more and more of them and that’s also new for me.

I believe it’s that I am finally settled into my place.

I am here.

I am staying here.

I have been in my little studio in-law now for almost seven months.

I am used to the streets and the traffic, of which there was so little tonight I wondered what sporting event was on the television, I mean, really, the streets were bare.

I whipped home on my ride.

Grateful for a dry ride home, although the streets were still wet, it was nice to not have to ride home in the rain.  I also was fortunate enough to make it to work before the downpour hit.

There was thunder and lighting.

My oldest charge got startled at one point and jumped when a loud boom of thunder pealed out of the sky.

I laughed, “it’s ok, bunny, it’s just God bowling.”

I don’t remember where or when I heard that as a kid, but growing up in the Midwest, Wisconsin, I have a fondness for thunderstorms, especially the ones in the summer that break up the monotony of July humidity.

The way the skies peel back, the clouds become inky blue-black and the lighting flashes out of the sky is something marvelous to see.

The smell of it too, the charge in the air, the hot electric intensity and the enormity of nature, then the deluge.

And being caught out in it when you don’t mind because you are so hot from the temperatures and the humidity has broken, it feels amazing.

I can smell the wet grass now, the luminousness of lilacs dripping wet, the blooms sagging down from the force of the rain, their rich heady scent undercutting the wet.

It doesn’t smell like that here, but the freshness of the ride home was invigorating, the cold blooms of jasmine stroked with rain, the sharp smell of wood smoke as I crossed Sunset Ave, hurling toward the blue grey smudge of ocean in front of me, the smell, wild, and wierding from the sea, so good.

I fill my lungs with the lushness of it and love that I am home.

Being settled in one place has allowed me to see my friends more, have more connections, and to be firm in my place here.

I don’t know what the future holds, but there’s a place for me.

I don’t have to have a hidden agenda to get there, even when I don’t know that I was doing that exactly, I suppose it better to say that I had expectations of a different outcome.

A hidden agenda seems to say I was manipulating my actions to get something.

Not interest in manipulation.

I want it for real.

I want the reality of a boyfriend who is my lover and snuggler and friend.

All the good the bad, the weird, the human.

So, whatever, and however that looks and for the rest of it, well, I just go on being me.

Smelling the rich air.

Riding my bicycle.

Laughing and cuddling with whomever wants to laugh and cuddle with me next.

Let me embrace this journey rather than be afraid.

Let me live in this reality.

Begone alluring fantasy.

The real hidden agenda lies in you.

Right now.


Right now.

I am living for right now.

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