Now that I’ve finally fixated on a SD member, the perennial crush threads have dried up! So I am reduced to starting one.
Eve, darling, come with me to Tahiti. We will live on the beach, eating coconuts, weaving palm fronds into the necessities of life, and posting the meditative wisdom we will acquire in paradise on the SDMB via our satellite internet uplink. For money we will dive for pearls. When the monsoons come, you can shelter in the lee of my adoration. When the softness of the ocean’s whispers tires, I will sing to you. I will strew tropical blossoms on your bed and wash your hair in the sea. Our children will be kissed by the sun, whole and strong and joyous.
Eve, Come with me to Colorado! We will live in a bung-studded pinealow in the mountains, eating berries as they fall from the bush. We’ll run round nekkid as jaybirds during the summer months, and as I sit on the barcalounger watching the cubbies on WGN, you will be allowed to fetch me beers until I demand you to join me in our sleeping bag on the floor.
Maintaining my lofty composure is difficult, bombarded as I am by the Pic Pages in one window and all this competition in another. But I’m in asshole mode tonight, not gentleman mode, so I can say:
Swiddles, eveningwear, an imperious look, and manneristically-lit lumber are a deadly combination.
Michi, how about you and me cuddling up with a bottle of Pink Juice and taking that last, big ride together? Wait a second. That somehow sounds like a BAD idea. Never mind.
Eve, you’re gorgeous, but we’ve been through that. Here’s the interesting part: track down a copy of “The Whole Fun Catalog of 1929.” It’s a collection of reprints from the Johnson Smith catalog from the early part of the 20th century. These are the folks who still advertise X-Ray Specs and Whoopee Cushions in the back of comic books. A total slice and the forward is by Jean Shepherd.
Cessandra! Where have you been these past weeks?
I definitely pick the wonderful actress Cessandra as one of my many concubines. As well as Swiddles (as she well knows), Eve, Mega, and various Canadian women. And Realidad.
Hey! This is a crush thread - post your own. Why is everybody trying to distract my loveling? That’s so tasteless. Like if I were to mention the enormity of my own seed-planter, just to remove any doubt. Show some class, guys.
Together we will shovel snow for months on end, looking into each other’s eyes (to make sure they haven’t frozen open).
My loving gaze will be the first thing you see each day, as I haul you out of bed to come help me jump-start the car on a serene January morning in Northern Michigan.
We’ll enjoy the gentle February breezes coming across Lake Michigan from the Canadian Arctic, as we trudge with snow in our boots to the nearest civilization, to call a wrecker because the car has become ditched in a snowbank.
As much as I hate to admit it, I have a crush on techchick. I say hate, because I am sure I am just about opposite of what she likes in guys. Needy is my middle name, the antithesis of what she likes in guys. But alas I am smitten. Hell last night I actually had a dream about her, how pathetic am I for that?
But techchick should you wake up one day and realize you want someone who will adore you, spoil you, comfort you, support you and make you feel like the most special woman on this spinning blue orb, well you know where to find me. I’ll be on that bar stool over there.
I’ve been crushed several times in the last decade and am trying to avoid getting crushed again.
In early 1994, I was in an automobile accident when a drunk decided that if he sped up, the light wouldn’t be as red when he got there. It destroyed my car (a 1990 pontiac Grand Prix Coupe – arguably the first “sexy” car I ever owned) and left me in not-like-new condition. I got better.
Then there’s the trainwreck of my relationship with TW (That Woman), and…
Oh. That kind of crush. That’s completely different.
Hmm, I wonder why my crushes/those who crush on me don’t seem to say it more than once on the boards. GRRR.