Stuff and Foolishness

There is simultaneously a lot and very little going on in my life these days.

I've started rehearsing for another show, which is taking up the majority of my free time, and much to my delight it is shaping up to be really great. I think I'll actually enjoy the curtain call this time around, unlike the last show where I just wanted to escape the stage, and my scene partner, as quickly as possible. Also unlike the last show, this time around I actually find the men I'm sharing the stage with--gasp!--attractive... one of them more than is probably good for me, but more on that in a minute.

The other news is that, after more than a year of waiting, I have finally begun my egg donation cycle! I took the stop-you-from-ovulating hormone shot a few weeks ago, and tomorrow I start the daily produce-lots-of-eggs hormones (giving myself shots--fun!). Thus far the only side effect I think I've noticed is being, well, exceptionally horny.

Now, granted, this isn't exactly an unusual state of affairs for me, so I'm not sure I can blame it entirely on the hormones, and I'm thinking the effect has been intensified by the fact that at the present moment, my lust actually has an object on which to fixate.

Which brings us back to the guy in my show. I say it's not good for me to be so attracted to him, mainly because he's a bit of a stoner and a bit of a flake (the two so often go hand in hand) and while stoner-ness doesn't bother me, one thing I absolutely cannot abide is flakiness. On the other hand, he's also cute, funny, and has a ridiculously sexy voice... and when he's in the vicinity I have a very hard time keeping myself from just pouncing on him and ripping his clothes off.

Indeed, the other night--after an inordinate amount of Yeungling--I entirely failed to control my lustful urges and stuck my tongue down his throat. He didn't seem to mind.

I can't help finding it ironic that I actually meet someone I want to have sex with right when I begin a process which will prohibit me from having sex for a month.

Unless, you know, I want to have a zillion babies. Which, clearly, I do not.

Fucking figures.

And absolutely none of the above prevented me from spending an entire 60 minute commute this morning indulging in daydreams about which, for the sake of decency, I will not go into detail. If there were any telepaths on the A train this morning, I highly doubt they were bored.

Now, I know what you're thinking, because I've thought it too. Maybe it's a good thing that I can't just jump into bed with him. Maybe this means I'll actually have to get to know him before sex becomes part of the equation. And you're right. Or you would be, if I was positive I wanted to date him. I'm not.

I try to take gossip with a grain of salt, but I was told he's got a reputation as a bit of a man-whore. There's the whole I-hate-flakiness thing, which I can tolerate in someone I'm only having sex with, but can't handle in an actual relationship. There's the fact that my judgment is currently so clouded by hormone-induced lust that I can't stop thinking about taking his shirt off long enough to determine exactly how much I like him. And finally there's the nagging fear that I do really like him, which, for all the reasons listed above, might turn out to be more of a curse than a blessing.

It seems that neither the course of true love NOR true lust ever doth run smooth...