The curse of the Soiled Dove

I am out of touch.
It has been a week, and with all the instant nature of modern communication I was able to text a generous and honest message (albeit naive) the morning after my frollock in the Airstream with Man of Flame. Thanks to those same devices and forums I know he has logged in 6 times in the last week and not even a nudge in my general direction.

The ball is definately in his court, and I have been waiting and waiting now for days for the ball or bouquet to come back over the cyber fence towards me. Waiting and waiting. All this time in a suspended frenzy, still haunted by what the fuck ! (see previous blog) and the over extended lingering in denial, because at this point in my life disappointment has been the pit stop I have been parked in for too long, especially with regards to men.

A simple note, token or expression would suffice. For goodness sakes he could even poke me on Facebook, a simple acknowledgement that he was present and even remotely grateful for the savage frenzy.

But not a bloody word.
Am I out of touch, I must be.
The nature of a decent man is not standard repertoir anymore. But when you move in a world of society where someone send a card after a dinner to express appreciation, a little cyberpoke after a hokeypoke would be nice.

So for seven days I've been coming up with excuses in my mind to make allowances for the man: he's from Oregon they live differently; the moon was in the 7th house and Jupiter was aligned with Mars; it was Friday the 13th.

The most rational irrational explaination I can coclude is that we were haunted, and on reflection that is very very possible. The building we were in is one of the oldest in this state, and it was at the turn of the last century a brothel. I certainly was unable to contain myself, infact I would say I surrendered completely to him.

What is a lady to think, for that aint no way to treat a lady. If there was a bounty or token that would suffice for a soiled dove, but nought beyond a tossed coin of exchange. Sadly i was just another porthole in his starbord view, and now other islands are in sight as part of his voyage. This man was unaware of his fortune, and now I have adjust from giddy and estatic, to stunned, to gratitude for the lesson a rare alchemy of elements albeit one rare fling.