Frosting

This is simple. The cake is the relationship. Sex is the frosting. In pretty much every single significant relationship I've ever had with a man, I did things in this order. First the frosting, then the cake. Not that this is necessarily the wrong way to do things...but it is often the awkward, scrambling for reason, cart-before-the-horse way to do things. Waking up together without little forethought as to how I really felt about the guy and then wondering if he was my boyfriend, I was his girlfriend, what does this mean. So now that I'm older and wiser, I'm hoping that I can accomplish this thing in a more reasonable order. I fully intend, despite what the hormone-intoxicated monkeys in my head are advising, to properly bake the cake first, then apply the frosting. The monkeys are big frosting freaks which shouldn't surprise anyone. They want frosting and they want it now!! In different colors, flavors, and textures! Not that there's anyone knocking on my bakery door demanding to dive head-first into my bucket of personal frosting. Nosirree, my personal bucket of frosting is safely tucked away in storage and hasn't seen the light of day for some time. I must admit that while I would really love to have a man in my life right now, I'm nowhere near desperate. I don't need a man to provide for me or procreate with me. I feel perfectly complete all by myself, thank you. But I miss the warmth and comfort of being in a relationship with someone I feel bonded to and in sync with. For the most part I have almost everything else I want in life, and all that I have would be so much richer and more meaningful if I had someone to share it with. And if he knows how to bake a cake, so much the better. And once that cake is out of the oven and as near to perfection as we would like to have it, I hope he has some creative ideas about how the frosting should be applied. Because I know that I most certainly do. Sprinkles and whipped cream optional.