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Making pancakes, as I learned at AP's birthday bash at the beach this weekend, is an unbelievably tedious chore. I don't know why I...

Monday, October 04, 2004

A Hypothetical Question

Imagine, hypothetically speaking, that you are dating me. I'll give you a moment to bask in that glorious thought. Imagine the affection I shower on you. Imagine that I love to make you laugh and that I bring you food when you are feeling sick and that I frequently let you know in a thousand little ways that I really dig you. Imagine that I like to hold your hand and that I offer you sex on a regular basis. Imagine that I keep your secrets and hold you when you cry and cuddle with you lots. And let's say that you make me really happy, and I haven't felt so happy in a long time and that I'm having so much fun hanging out with you and that I want to spend time with you every day or as often as possible. If I can't see you, imagine that I just want to talk to you because even your deep warm sexy voice comforts me.

Now imagine that you go on some sort of weekend getaway to someplace warm and sunny and crowded with hot gay men. Somewhere like Key West, or something. It doesn't matter. This is a hypothetical situation. Imagine that this trip was planned months ago - before you and I were seeing each other. So, when you got to Key West and were there for three days and didn't call me or respond to a couple sweet text messages/voice mails I sent you, I would, hypothetically, start feeling insignificant.

But I, of course, would be patient with you and still think warm happy thoughts about you. Even if you decided to extend your trip another day, I would think warm happy thoughts about you as I went to Beer Bust at, oh I don't know, Silverado and felt the rock-hard pecs of a sexy Latino guy, hypothetically wearing a muscle shirt, who would give me his phone number and invite me to his birthday party next week. I would think warm happy thoughts about you as I got hypothetically groped by a smiling handsome hypothetical African-American gentleman at the bar. I would still miss you and wish you were home. And I would still pick you up from the airport and give you a kiss and a birthday present. I wouldn't be able to forget feeling insignificant to you while you were away, but I would assume that's baggage from a hypothetical previous relationship in which I wasn't valued and, hey, that's my baggage not yours, so I would forgive you for what I perceived as "blowing me off" for a weekend. And I would still totally want to sleep with you because, hypothetically, you're hot.

So here is my question to you, readers of Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven:

Given this hypothetical situation, which is complete fiction and bears no resemblance to persons living or dead, should I blog about how I'm feeling? Or just keep my big mouth shut so I don't just make more trouble for myself like Madonna did when she pissed off her former boyfriend Warren Beatty in the movie "Truth or Dare" when he facetiously mocked her for being such an attention whore by asking her, "Why say anything if it's not on camera"?

What would you do? Just asking. I want to help a friend who is going through a similar situation.

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