I tell myself I was half asleep when this occurred. I say I was a little delusional, and that the saying about sleeping with too full a stomach does in fact give you funny weird dreams. I’m not weird though, because we all make out with our same-sexed friends in dreams. Right?

Maybe it developed from the bad habit of the two of us leaning towards each other (in real life) pretending to be lovers. Or maybe, according to this specified friend, I am just inexplicably irrevocably attracted to her. I concur with the ladder. Mainly because I don’t want to stop my awful perverse practice of flipping out my other, less than flattered friend when I did actually kiss her on her birthday.

Muah. Your first and only innocent sweet one. Wait though, my Casanova status continues to rise –

The dream was actually as interesting and impossible as dreams do happen. There was a hotel room – not in the slightest romantic as it was compacted with other females, none of whom were sadly of potential kissing partner quality, as none of them had a physical body in my realm of subconscious. Yes, that’s right, I do think my girl friend is my one and only more and more.

At first, it had been just an accident derived from our habit mentioned above, and we laughed about it. Then with a whirlwind of events, I was all snuggled up with my thick blankets when whomever, I’ll say nerd-girl cause she sounds like one and not because she has glasses, right beside me got annoyed with my friend’s and my tactics. Hence my friend and I proposed to make out. And voila. Life fulfilled. Just until the mean old woman that I would supposed to have been a maid/nanny/housekeeper of sorts barged in and separated all of us into new rooms. Good stuff for a 9am wake up call.

I still attribute it to my other asshole friend (other than previous mentioned in last post) who called at 4am. There are studies that you shouldn’t disturb someone in deep sleep. REM and all. Or maybe it was watching We’re the Millers and laughing a little too much at its inappropriate-ity.. Hm. It’s a 50/50 shot I think.

Or Duck, maybe it’s just you. Maybe.

In real life though, I know my one true love is only this guy.

Doesn't budge an inch for flash photography. My kind of man.
Doesn’t budge an inch for flash photography. My kind of man

Reminisce of fateful first times..

For those who remember
Their very first meeting
I remember mine,
April 17th

My mother urged me to go
None too alike a bad match maker,
Towards someone who was waiting, supposedly,
Dearly behind the closed bathroom door

She slowly opened the door ajar
And I verified she has finally accepted alas
My imaginary boyfriend
For there was nothing reflected
In the mirror of human features

Slowly it came together
The plump shape of a furry round romp
Snugged on the floor,
Round eyes of sapphire blue
Perked ears of an attentive partner;
My cat and I lived happily ever after.