MENTAL HOT SAUCE

My uncle Jerry once told me that he wished to die of heart failure with a beautiful young coed on either side. Presumably naked, though he did not specify. And I can still imagine the big silly grin on his face if that had happened. No, he wasn't a pervert, just a normal healthy man, albeit one with an over-active imaginary sex-life.
And that, too, is normal.

I myself would settle for just one coed. I have no desire to suddenly leave because of heart-failure, you must understand.
Actually, I prefer not to choose any means of untimely demise.
Instead, I want to live forever.

An additional factor is that one is enough. Attentiveness to one woman is likely to be an easy affair compared to keeping two of them happy. And I'm not talking sexually, but instead referring to what it takes to get along with another person, appreciate her, and respond appropriately.
One woman can be quite a handful, adding in another might make the whole thing impossible. And at that point it's not really too much of a good thing as a question of trying to juggle bowling balls.
Or hand grenades. With the pins wobbly.
And heap-big anger issues.


Fortunately I am a single man, so there are no live explosives that I need to consider.


Although if I had to imagine dynamite, that would be the sweet young miss with the small-looking hands who sat next to me on the bus last weekend.
I tried to keep my eyes rigidly fixed frontward, but I have truly excellent peripheral vision. She seemed like a very gentle woman, and when I had heard her conversing with her red-headed (nice dye-job, btw) friend earlier, both of them had spoken with subdued voices, rather than making an unholy racket such as one expects from most people nowadays. That by itself was both remarkable and pleasing.

When I got off the bus at Stockton Street, there was a moment when she and I were looking right at each other.
She has intelligent eyes.

Afterwards, dinner at the Utopia on Waverly tasted especially good. Something lovely in the mind adds greatly to flavour in the mouth.



My uncle Jerry wasn't a pervert, just a normal healthy man with an exceptionally vibrant imagination.
I should wish to follow in his footsteps.
Though not so much.




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