And if life is just a highway, then the soul is just a car. And objects in the rearview mirror may appear closer than they are.

I had an interesting AIM conversation out of the clear grayblue sky last night, with a giving me shit going on three years now…dude, obsess much? friend of an ex-girlfriend of several years ago, posing as a woman to invite me to Oak Lawn, IL for wild sex. (I think it can be safely concluded that anytime there is a cute girl soliciting me for sex, there is something fishy going on.) And of course, pump for information about the relationship that was. Meh. I wish he would be man enough to do it from his own machine. Anyway, AIM makes this shenanigans easy to take care of…

I know, this sounds like a rehash of a few-days-ago entry, but this is an entirely different ex. (Though I’m sure the two exes-from-woodwork events are related, see the older entry.) All this probably makes it sound like I have a whole bunch of them, but I don’t, really.


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