It was Christmas Eve, babe

And the wind is howling and the rain is pouring and the snow (!) is melting...

I haven't heard from you in so long and I am, of course, thinking of you far too much (which isn't actually that much, relative to everything else that's going on); the notion of you peppers my day with fanciful images and flashes now and again of positions, gestures, that sort of thing.

The intensity of some of these ... jpgs for lack of a better term? Like surfing the internet and coming upon a shot of Daniel Craig, naked, in a bath tub.

Which has happened. And that's quite delightful, really. I suppose it depends on the context.

Perhaps one day I'll surrender to some exhibitionist urge to send you the link to this blog. I think you might read it, if I have the patience to wait until there is some relevant content here. At the rate I blog, though, that's likely not to be in the coming year.

Interestingly, we've really only known each other about a year. And it was you that sortofIthink started this...association. I'd like to think I wasn't just coming on to the hot teacher like some gradetengirl. And actually, you aren't really that hot (sorry) per se; it's your...
OK, I know you like to hear this so I might just as well list your attributes for the record: your mouth is so sensuous. It's wide, and you talk out the bottom of it, which is facinating. It also perfectly compliments your nose which is perfect. I love to imagine our noses touching playfully. Moving on, your height and frame are perfect for the clothes that you wear. Here, I think Andrea has some influence...when she was away I noticed that you weren't looking your totally buttoned down self. Nothing too bad; just a bit bland and wrinkly. You wear undershirts whenever I see you though. This is not fair: I want to see your chest, even if it is through a shirt. I imagine lots of dark hair, sort of like that guy on Mad Men. I imagine burying my face in your chest, of using my tongue, hearing your sharp intake of breath...
And you facilitate these notions, you know, by lounging around coffee shops and stretching your long, long legs out in front of me. Is this conscious? Do you do this on all your dates? for all your dates? I have to say, your shoes are lovely and I'll bet you haven't had to be reminded to not wear white sport socks in a long time (pet peeve, long story); you have a nice package there, boy. But, I guess, you know that too.
What puzzles me sometimes is why you've put up with me for so long. You keep dates and agree to meet; you have even responded, even if only minimally, to most of my emails to you. I know that after a while you will cease to respond to threads that have become boring for you; whatever. Sometimes it's done, already.

But now, nothing. I hope and am afraid at the same time that your life is falling apart because of this move to Edmonton. If this means that you are getting married (moreso than you are now), or finally having a child then I'm really pleased. You seemed to be ready for something to happen there...
Mind you, if that were the case I think somehow that you would have shared. I'm clearly all about the partnership (for the record, I really don't think we'd be very good 'together', other than as benefitting friends I mean). I have a good partership myself and he puts up with me pretty well. And he's quite accomodating as far as these whims go; I'm not sure that he really means it, but he says the notion of 'benchmarking research' is a good idea, from his perspective. He sees it as a win/win. Which it is, until I tell him. So if I were to, I would never. Win/win.
Just to be clear.

If you are now suddenly single, then it's likely just as well you are seeking solace from another. I would be so good at soothing your spirit and, of course, your body. I want to, even.

I suppose there could be some attempt at the ldr. It's not sustainable, she warned.
And, selfishly, I don't want you to be inclined to visit her when you are in TO. I want to share a meal, an evening, a bed with you.
I want to wake up with you and go to work and have that file in my head to roll over and over and over.

But until then, I'm not emailing you (for the record, I know I've sent a couple your way, but those were either 'fyi' or 'batches'; greetings for the season. Kissing you tonight: tippy toes to reach your lips; reaching up with one hand to stroke your neck and with the other, down your back, your 'perfectly formed ass', down your thigh. Feeling you and imagining your body responding, holding me close and opening your mouth to taste me. Yum.