Of course, when I say that my energy level is back to normal, I mean normal for me.
As far as the girlfriends and physics discussion goes, I have little to contribute. More, however, here.
I guess I can say I've never been all that crazy about mystery. I'm more into a sense of the absurd.
In fact, I will say that typically in my life, I have fallen love with women after I've known them for awhile - like maybe a couple of years, which means the mystery is long gone.
And then there's this, from Westika:
Come to think of it, though, why the hell do men marry bitches? It's so fucking true and so fucking frustrating.
But hell. It is what it is. Of all the many examples I could give, I'll stick with this one:
Mcarp and Butthead.
Now I know this may be bad timing, but I've been thinking about it for a while. Butthead, a stray or vagrant feline, I gather, scratches the man to the point he requires prescription drugs and posts about 15 blogs about it. All I'm saying here is that's a pretty fucking bad deal. (And I am sorry about the trauma of the entire experience. I don't mean to make too much light.) And his initial response was the desire to adopt him, basically commit to him forever. And he basically did. The forever just happened to be pretty quick, even in cat years.
Well, Butthead was not my type, either in gender or species, so I wasn't about to marry him. I did plan to bail him out of the animal shelter because I was used to seeing him around (he'd been hanging around the house off and on for four years) and I didn't want him euthanized just because he had bitten me when provoked. It wasn't as if he had deliberately infected me.
Butthead was not a particularly unpleasant or aggressive cat. In fact, considering he was an intact tom, he was pretty docile. I expected him to be low maintenance.
I don't know why men marry bitches. I don't know why women marry losers. People are just wired differently.
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