So basically, if I was to meet Rachel Riley in my local pub say on a Thursday or Friday evening and I got chatting to her and felt the tingling sensation of chemistry dance down from my neck to my toes then I'd be obliged to push on with the flirting until her eye lashes flutter so fast she gently lifts herself off the ground and hovers around me oozing a seductive pheromone that sends me into a sexual trance.
I'd whisper to her that, "You were so fit on Eight out of Ten Cats the other week" and then suggest we finish our drinks and leave, reservations booked for the closest hotel, making it unequivocally clear that 1 + 1 = 1, my intentions to remain completely attached to her for the rest of the night. She'll smile approvingly at my arithmetic, flicking her hair, grabbing my hand and leading me out of the pub stating "Let's just go, I can't wait any longer". I can no longer wait either, needing to taste her algebra, I almost black out in anticipation. It will be a fantastical night.
What relevancy has this got to do with this blog?
Why even bother sharing this fantasy?
What the hell would my partner think if she read this other than perhaps laugh at my delusions?
If I was to post a Riley update every week, would that technically be stalking or an obsession? Would it be a plausible theory that more I mention her the more likely it will happen?
Perhaps all I want people to know is that I do fancy a bit of Riley. No harm in that, right? But there is absolutely no gain and no point in sharing it with anyone because the reality is I'll never sleep with her and she'd never sleep with me. In fact, there's little chance of her ever turning up at my local.
If I kept banging on about it, then people might become concerned for my mental state and question why I persist with something that will simply not play out no matter how many times I wish to salivate and share.
I should just STFU about Miss Riley and be grateful for what I've got and not draw attention to any whimsical day dreams because I've got a bulge in my pants that I persistently want to show off. In fact, I need to keep my gob shut because I'm embarrassing myself and embarrassing people that know me, always walking around with a photo of Rachel in my wallet, showing it off to anyone I can grab in the street and telling them that although it's simply not on the cards and it won't happen if it did happen, if it did play out I'd spend days worshipping her legs and other parts.
I need to be gagged. Not bound and gagged. I'll leave that for the hotel.
Oh crap, I just can't help myself. Rachel, I love you babe. She won't be on 'Eight out of Ten cats' this week which means she's blatantly going to be down my local.
Result.
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