Nothing could be further from this goof.

You see� There is this side of HisSauceHood that says, �Shit. Go for it. You are being offered a present. Not accepting a gift is VERY impolite.� Or as my Great Aunt Elizabeth told me more than once, �When someone offers you a boon, shut the fuck up and say �thank you.�� Instead, unless I am deeded something more emotionally invigorating than some nice sweaty sport, I decline.

Most attempts at bequeathing baby chute (sorry) are less-than-literal offers. They are thrown across the transom in a way that allows for a politely missed signal. No muss, n�, no fuss.

DatSauceHuman got his first (not in relationship with me) direct-with-no-hedging, loud and clear booty call in years tonight.

A long-time female friend, dialed digits-DaSauce this evening�

She has recently become Not Coupled.

The offer was that she�d be over in a bit, her own bottle of wine in hand, and some form of Neutrogena Clear Oil at the ready, and she really had an itch that needed scratching. She thought it would be fun to do so on my pria-package.

She is a really swell person. She is the very definition of attractive. It took more than my normal self-control to ever so gently tell her how much I appreciated the prospect. How much I was wowed by the offer. How any other male human would jump with more than a single body part at the ready. How, I just don�t make ends meet (or middles for dat matter,) without having feelings (all the while feeling phreaking foolish.)

Then I started apologizing.

Ack.

Her answer, was that she expected my response�didn�t feel slighted�knew that it was a long shot and that was partially why she called me. Between that and my utter safety (for her physical well-being) and my overall lummox-like-silliness, it was worth the shot. She had guessed as much, but wanted to try and see how it worked out. Not to worry, Sauce-Boy. Bye.

I held and looked at the phone for a bit before hanging up.

Since then, I�ve been suffering from a dash O� D�pression-DaSauce.

It would have been great fun. I know that. The house is fairly clean. I changed my lovely high-thread-count Egyptian CalKing sheets today. I bathe. I brush my teeths. She knows DaBoy so if it had become a sleepover he wouldn�t have been old enough to think anything other than �More audience! Yay!� I�m not in the least bit narcissistic�and thus the single player version of pud-party is not any where near as much fun as pairs. Not within light-years, actually. But, but, but, but, but�ad infinitum.

ARGH!

I stopped hooking up with folks I didn�t Actually-Care-For for in my late teens. I just woke up one morning and thought, �Damn. Why is this person in my bed?� I have felt goddamn-good about the decision since and I have never regretted it (much.)

But sometimes, I wonder if it is phucking SANE.

Excuse this evening�s discussion, as methinks it crosses many folks TooMuchInfo boundaries (even if you don�t know My Dumb Ass� from Adam.)

--ThusMyEponymDaMonk