I’m not sure what the scoreboard is anymore. The exchanges have become too many, too prolific, too many one-liners. They have also become incestuous. I am writing them about each other, so there is some rivalry going on–at least for Seabiscuit and Njal.

Seabiscuit, I would say, is still in the lead. He has shared two photographs that have inspired me to write poems about the beauty in the photos themselves. And he has inspired 4 ghazals now. I am very proud of the poems I’ve written that are inspired by his presence in my life. They are my best, I know it. We still have yet to meet. His weekends are busy for the next two weeks, so the wait continues…

Njal (thought maybe Don Juan would be a better name at this point) still writes some sexy, erotic poetry. I don’t think I will find anyone who can write better erotic poetry than he can.  Somebody get a hose–I’m on fire! There is some strange magnetic force between us, some dangerous attraction crossing a Translatlantic cable and the entire continental US to reach me. It’s probably for the best we’ve got an ocean of separation; the two of us together might be a destructive fiery force upon the world indeed.

Lord Byron, still trailing third. He write more slowly, but thoughtfully. I’m perfectly charmed by his Britishness. I also laughed when I read he’s enjoyed a few erotic adventures spanking younger ladies. He has shared his photograph; he is the most dignified, dashing, handsome older looking British gentleman you can picture, and picturing him spanking some young women in a BDSM dungeon in London greatly amuses me.

Learning of Lord Byron’s kink produced conversations with the other two about kinks, and whew! What a Thursday morning this was. Never thought I’d hear my name in the phrase “a Felicitas sandwich” in reference to a proposed threesome between me, Njal and Seabiscuit–and both men seemed to be really into it.

My life has taken a very interesting turn of events, indeed. I’ve gone from a history of rejection and neglect to multiple men wanting me at once. I am not used to so much attention. As Njal put it, “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, eh? Well, Cinderella, your time has come.”

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