At what point does she become “the girlfriend”?
Perhaps the bigger question…who is she?
Confused? You won’t be after…oh wait…I already did that on Twitter. This is what I get for introducing my daughters to the show “Soap”. A show that, in its initial run, I was too young to watch.
Brilliantly written…a perfect cast (think Robert Guillaume, Richard Mulligan and…yes…Billy Crystal…“Have fun storming the castle, boys!”)…and one thing that, even now, no one really pokes fun at. Probably being soap operas are no where near as popular as they once were…so understandable. This show was out years before even Tootsie took soap opera lampoons to the cinema.
Anyhow, it seems I have digressed, once again…unto the breech!
I’m a professional digresser…or would that be a digressor.
Undresser, absolutely…so enjoy helping her take off her clothes with a playful tickle here and a stolen kiss there and a…wait…I need a girlfriend of this.
I knew I would get back to my original premise.
In the year 2012…at what point does she become “the girlfriend”?
It is not like the 1980s when permission was asked of her father, first born children were promised and even gifts of a Ford or Chevy were offered just to get the parents to let her go out the door. The 1880s would have even been harder being neither Fords nor Chevys were all that plentiful yet.
So…the second decade of the 21st Century…is she the girlfriend when seeing her number on call display is enough to make you smile?
Is she the girlfriend when her coy laugh causes random erections?
Is she the girlfriend when she regularly rides you to orgasmic oblivion?
Orgasmic oblivion…I love that term and image…used it before in other posts on here as well…can orgasmic oblivion be found with anyone?…or does it have to be a girlfriend? Orgasmic oblivion is that orgasm where, with no alcoholic nor drug involvement, you both lay on the bed panting like dogs after the orgasm and neither can remember their own names…never mind each other’s.
“Orgasmic Oblivion” is the name of a new fiction set I have sitting in my draft file awaiting me to get around to editing…or until I find some gorgeous brunette or redheaded editor that I can offer sex as payment for her to do it…kidding…I’d do the sex for free. The original idea that it evolved from was either a more humorous and intelligent version of Emanuelle…or a sexier version of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Key term is, once I actually get to posting it, it is now neither…and yet it is absolutely bang on.
*Laughs*…he said “bang”.
So when does she become “the girlfriend”?
I suppose the real answer is when all of the obstacles, walls and other detours we all have…all the signs, the signals and warning lights or flags we all observe in our social experimentation in life…when out of the blue all those complications just seem to be less complicated. Suddenly there is just you and her…everything else is just white noise that can be tuned out.
Damn it, I want that again…well, that and the orgasmic oblivion, but with her.
Again now, who is she?
That, my friends, is the part of this story that is yet unwritten. Perhaps, being somewhat jaded by two failed marriages and other ghosts of girlfriend’s past, it is a story I will never write.
Recently, though…someone has brought rise to something I had thought I had lost. Something that used to drive me more than I have ever cared to mention.
No…I’m not dating Hope Solo…although this hope has me hearing the voice of Yoda in my head as he talks to Ben Kenobi while the Muppet and ghost watch Luke fly away to begin the final scenes of “The Empire Strikes Back”. Though Ben is convinced that all is lost…Yoda calmly states, “There is another.”
The fact that Yoda says almost the exact same words and we find out that Luke’s twin sister is Leia…well, it makes my metaphor awkward as I have no sister…nor a twin…and even if I did, I wouldn’t want to sleep with them.
The girlfriend, however…I would say “that’s another story”, but feel as though I’ve already said that about five times during this completely tongue in cheek post.
My tongue…her cheek
Oh, wait…that’s not her cheek. Bring on oblivion.