Too perfect

You know that feeling when you try to quit smoking, then you give in and have that orgasmic but shameful puff?

Well, I don’t know what it’s like. I’m imagining it might be a suitable parallel for my actions though. I want Elle.

I seem to be able to convince myself that she is arrogant, pretentious and generally ignores me. It works too! I can go for weeks thinking that. Simple bliss understanding that she is a nasty person and I am better with her out of my life.

But then she talks to me. Then I remember her breasts. But mostly I remember who she is. Yes, she is a bit arrogant, slightly pretentious and she does ignore me a bit but so what? That’s not a patch on how she makes me feel. I can talk to her about anything, and I probably have. I can listen to everything she says. I can argue with her for hours. She gets my humour! This is stuff that other people just shrug at saying “It’s just saying ‘Quonk’”.

So, I find myself saving my last cookie for her. A really nice one with three different kinds of Belgian chocolate. One that is making my mouth flood just by thinking about it. One that the baker must have cradled like a new born baby, kissed and loved.

Lets see how tomorrow goes.