Last night, rather this morning while sitting at a table sipping on my poison of choice (Campari chased with Piton Beer), I over heard a gentleman playfully saying to a sheep dressed up in lambs clothing (mind you he was no spring rooster himself), that to know him is to love him - he smiled, she chuckled and they continued their conversation. And the cogs of mind began going - I wondered for a moment or two, could the same be said about me; whether superficial love or otherwise. Is to know me to love me? Would someone having taken time to look passed the bullshit, peel away a layer or two, have a serious conversation flowered with a bit of humor - love me; not necessarily romantic love, but love none the less. Would knowing me have meant anything or changed anything in their life, would they miss me when I'm no longer part of their lives. I suppose I may never know - that isn't exactly something you carry out a survey for is it.
Knowing me can be like an orgasm - some times you get it, some times you don't, but when you get it good you want more.
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