I have been in a perpetual state of "red alert" since Sunday. What I mean is, I have been messed with by a clit tease. I now know what it is like to be a man and CONSTANTLY be thinking about sex. A new form of terrorism.......and now I suffer with my own personal "G"ihad. It was supposed to happen Sunday....did not. Was supposed to happen Tuesday...did not. Was supposed to happen tonight...will not. He is Lucy, and I am Charlie Brown having the football pulled away from me at the last minute. Repeatedly. Physically, it is not unlike when you REALLY have to pee, and you are doing fine until you get close to the bathroom and then the desire increases ten fold and you are unsure if you are going to make it. That is me right now thanks to Skeptic. We spoke on Monday night and the conversation went something like this; Skeptic, "You like reality TV right?" Kat, "Why yes, I love it." Skeptic, "Change of plans for Thursday, one of my coworkers is on Survivor Fiji and she is having a party to kick off the season." (Are you thinking what I was thinking? I was thinking he was asking me to go to the party with him.) Skeptic, "So, can we hook up earlier so I can go?" To quote Charlie Brown, "ARGHHH!!!" Skeptic claims to be horny too. To quote Osama Bin Laden, "he accused me of having his malady, then snuck away." Rarely have I been turned down for sex so I cry bullshit to his claim of hornyness (while shaking my fists at the sky). Fortunately, the weekend is creeping up on me and I shall celebrate by going to San Fran and working out some of this frustration. He has NO idea what he is in for. I am in a "whorey" war and I intend to die fighting.