Smarter than the average...

I own a book called “What might have been”; a collection of essays about how history might have turned out had this been different or that. You know the style of kidney - the Nazis winning World War II etc. But it occurred to me that there is money to be made publishing all the unheard speeches and unread musings – concessions by winning candidates; love letters by the broken hearted; patents never submitted; charges never brought.

In my old age, my senescence (that much closer, it seems, having today found the first grey hair in a place there weren’t none before), I think I will be able to fondly review a number of my assignations and reflect – speculate, really – not only on what occurred, back in the good old 21st century, but also on how things might have been.

The reason for all of this is of course today. You see, gentle reader, I can safely report that I ended my holiday on a high note. Oh yes. In the usual way, I saw a bit of gaydar (it’s one of my home pages, OK? It comes up every time I log on, that’s all) and after an unsuccessful attempt to construct a threesome with a near neighbour of mine today’s fella popped up in a window all his own.

Today’s fella is exactly my type. Slightly taller; slightly older; slim - not undefined though, but not muscular. He also has two blue eyes I simply drowned in – like sapphires they are – and after a last kiss my last words to him were how beautiful they look. And a smile to match no less *sigh*.

And last, but in no way least, an expert he is at yoga.

I’m not sure how I’ll feel tomorrow but I have spent a lot of the afternoon being coaxed into whole new positions that oh Lord, absolutely hit the spot. To the point that, at the risk of sounding crass, it was insisted by him more than once "Not Yet" (if you catch my drift).

Apparently he spends each December in India learning under expert Yogi and, freshly back, I’m quite glad he chose me to help him over his jet-lag.

So you can well imagine how I might speculate on something more than three hours of blue eyes and contortionism. And how I might think of that when I’m recovering from a hip replacement. And how, (though of couse in the meantime I'll be working on how things will be!) in that nursing home on the moon, whatever else happens, I'll always be the little gay engine that could.