OK, so Memphis Boy is nice and all, but unless he starts putting out, he’s history! I mean, come on, last night I spent my evening sipping green tea, watching a video called “The Scenic Splendors of the Pacific Northwest,” and holding hands. Until midnight.



When I have to be at f***ing work at the crack of dawn. Well, 9 a.m. But still. It’s not like we’re an old married couple. It’s not even like it’s our first date, where such a thing might be exciting. It’s our fourth f***ing date, OK!



When I couldn’t lie around anymore waiting for him to throw himself at me, I left, and was rewarded for my patience with the most chaste kiss on the lips I have received since D.W. gave me my first “kiss” in the bathhouse at Venture Valley camp when I was fifteen. In other words, not really a kiss.



And now I'm sleep deprived. For that.



And don’t tell me I can throw myself at him because I’ve tried that (naturally). On Sunday night, we watched a movie while getting quite cozy on my red Couch o’ Love. There was hand-holding, arm putting around-ing, hair playing with, meaningful looks, adoring comments about my beauty, etc.



Finally, when he was about to leave, I pounced. Kissed him. Several times. For my efforts I received a few closed-mouth kisses in return and lots of hugs. Hugs! Hugs are nice but if I want those I can go visit Fluffy, the golden retriever. At least Fluffy will go horizontal with me.



BUT. I gave him the benefit of the doubt because I was sick! Ohhh, he doesn’t want to kiss me when I’m sick, I thought. Kinda lame, but understandable! And OK, so I’m still kind of sick. Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t kiss me last night. Or maybe he’s gay!



It’s enough to make me call the LRS, I tell you. Get a l’il action, you know?



Anyway, I’m giving MB one more chance. I'm not asking for the Full Monty, mind you. But a little tongue would be would be nice!



GalPal #1 suggested maybe he was just “a gentleman.” Yeah, WHATever! A eunuch gentleman, perhaps!



In the meantime, I did a Bad Thing. Despite claiming to be “burned out on” and “not into” the personals thing, I went in and refreshed my ad, posting a new and more flattering foto. The e-mails have been flooding in and my ego has been stoked; though of course, there is the inevitable anticipation and disappointment each time I see my suitor's picture (trying not to be superficial, trying not to be superficial.)



There does, however, seem to be a crop of fun (if balding) young fellows, and one hunky, alpha-looking snowboarder with all his hair who wants to “rock till the bitter end” and is looking for a “rabid lover,” whatever that is. My guess however, is that, he would put out.



Hmmph.