Same Old, Same Old

This post is being slapped together pretty much just to ameliorate the guilty sensations currently being experienced by my conscience due to the fact that I'm heading into the weekend already on the verge of going two days sans blogging and there's next to no chance, unless of course I indulge M3's request to assume ghost writing duties, that I'll publish a lick between now and Monday.

And also because I'm sort of waiting for M3 to call right now to alert me to his whereabouts and genuinely have nothing better to do.

At present, M3 is en route to my mid-sized town. He will be arriving either via Greyhound within the next 15 minutes or via the latenight rails just before midnight. In either circumstance, and particularly given the certain red state-esque scariness that will undoubtedly befall him during said trip, I'd say that's a dead giveaway the guy's totally digging my scene.

Why would M3 willingly take the train or the bus to my mid-sized town when he a) has a vehicle of his own and b) I was headed up to visit him tomorrow afternoon anyway? So we can spend what will ultimately amount to between six and eight more hours together than our original plan that involved neither trains nor buses would have allowed, that's why.

So, tonight he'll roll into my mid-sized town after an inordinately long trip via quasi-public transportation and we'll stay up far past my normal Friday evening bedtime which is necessitated by my Saturday far-too-early morning watersport practice to which I'll end up driving still half-asleep because the undeniable upside of staying awake until all hours laying beside, beneath and periodically atop M3 is far worth the consequences. And then I'll come home to M3 and my dog and a warm shower and his really big, strong arms and I'll probably have one of those "I want this every day but can't have it woe is me" stupid mopey moments that I'll try to hide from him and might even think I managed to succeed in doing so until he reads this and tells me I didn't. And then we'll drive up to his mid-sized city for the rest of the weekend during which time I will tentatively meet his sister...possibly succeed in executing a trip to Target in spite of his vehement hatred of shopping because try as he might he really can't argue with the fact that as a man of 32 years, the breakup of a relationship of 3+ years is not a valid excuse to own but one plate, one knife, one fork and one spoon...

...and then, at 6am on Monday morning when all of our time together has been exhausted and its the beginning of another long week apart, I'll leave. Liking him even more than I do right now.

In other words, next week's posts are still going to suck ass.