Guilty Pleasures

Today was my day with Honey. A chick flick and some cuddling, good pizza and quailty television is enough of a fix. It's never enough with Honey. A quasi bi-sexual relationship is good for anyone. It was nothing over the edge, not even borderline. But enough to make me remember the good ol' days. Many would like to make it out to be more, something steamy. I'm sure people think our afternoons are full of satin sheets and strawberries, lipstick and leather, but they aren't really. We relish in the old maids that we've become and laugh at ourselves and my cat. We give each other a good back rub, perhaps a foot rub here and there, give a good hug or three and part ways. But I have this, and no one else does. No one else can fulfill this. Not for me, not for anyone else in this way. And thus . . . the guilty pleasure.