In bed

The other day I was lying on my side trying to figure out how I could keep this sensation going forever.  The sensation of being inside you.  Of being as close to you as humanly possible.

I remember you asking me if what I had told you "about always wanting to be with you" was true, or just something I came up with after you told me how you wanted me "to be inside you forever" and that you wished that "time could stop" and that the moment we were in "could be heaven" and how you hoped "that this feeling would go on forever."

I think you became convinced that I was not telling you the truth because my response went something like, "Uh, huh."

I guess I was a little stunned my your admission.  Maybe I was even a little frightened by it.  What can I say?

Though I should tell you that you have nothing to be worried about.  That in fact I was saying the very same thoughts in my brain that you were confessing out loud.

Only there were a lot of other things that were happening to me at the moment that you were confessing to me that your idea of heaven was my penis inside your vagina.

• Our two naked bodies were rubbing against each other on E.

• I was thinking, "My god, how true that is."

• But I was also thinking, "That's kinda strange, I barely know you."

I was also experiencing something very close to an orgasm without release.  It's a very strange state to be in for 1 1/2 hours.  A non-vocal state if you think about it.  So don't  be concerned about a response that in your opinion, "was nothing more than a grunt."

I may have told you that you were overreacting. You did not overreact to my response.

I am only saying (hopefully a little better than before) that the thing about women is that your heart, your emotional centers, and your sex drive are all language based.

This make communicating with your gender very difficult.  Even for those men that have acquired some language skills.

So I wrote this to remind you that we are not all wired the same.  And that fact shouldn't worry you.  You should just accept my answer as honest now that you know my true heart feelings.

I'm going to quit my job and move in with you if you want. We can just make love all day in your commune's bathroom.  If you want I will start wearing the kind of clothing you wear.

You love wearing those long, flowing tie dye skirts.  You enjoy looking like you were cast in a movie from 1969.  And if you feel more comfortable that way, then so do I.

I am not the kind of person who rolls over you after sex just to  question your "after sex smoke" all because you eat vegan, and look skinny, and talk about being healthy like it is some kind of new religion.

Maybe you don't know this, but we are all going to die.

I think that life is like a video game.  That even if you beat the Donkey Kong arcade game and get a million points and finish the 39th level- some one unplugs your machine.

I guess what I am trying to say is that at some point all of our high scores get deleted.

I'm no more okay with that idea than you are.  But I am not going to fool myself into believing that I know why people die.  I don't think for a second that the flat bellied kids running around at 3 am to get their workouts will out live me.

They might.  But I have not seen the science behind the idea.  Maybe you should just accept the idea that we can't know for sure and then you can stop texting me to grill fresh salmon & zucchini "n have a Sam Adams" when you know all I have to eat is 3 day old broiled catfish that wrinkled up in the toaster oven, canned vegetables, and 3 bottles of Zima that are no longer cold because you left them out on the patio.