Mush Gush

Sometimes, you just have this irresistible urge to sprout something incredibly mushy about the Significant Other, stuff that might make the average, indifferent third party observer cringe in embarrassment, for you. And when this urge strikes, there is this tendency to gush about the mushy stuff.

Not because of any burning desire to declare to the world how perfect one's partner is or how 'complete/pure' the love between the two love birds is. There is of course a sizeable minority who might be thus motivated: primarily those still in the ephemerous high of dreamy romance, frolicking in the warm sunny comfort of puppy love. I am not one of the blessed few, not amongst those still caught in the sweet pangs of youthful love; the Significant Other and I both know how imperfect we are and our love is hardly cherubic or pure. Carnal and consuming might be a more apt description. Heh heh. ^^

But I digress, this tendency to gush upon the onset of a Mush Attack is almost invariably premised on the strange yet simple notion that when reduced to its most basic level is: Even though I may not know exactly why, I just XXXXXXXX you to bits. And an inexplicable need to get it off your chest.

So I happen to be in such a mood now, I don't know why and I don't care. But in recognition of my civic duty not to swamp disinterested readers with nausea-inducing mush, I shall tone it down severely. Tonight's Harry Potter movie was over hyped and with the exception of a couple of fight scenes towards the end, boring. What you did though, my dear, was a very pleasant surprise. Extremely pleasant and shockingly surprising especially considering your previous stand with regards to this whole aspect.

I love you to bits and for some inexplicable reason I just wanted to devour you today. Lock, stock and barrel. From the moment we met up. Now. I know I know, you'll say it's just the dick talking. It's not. It'll do the talking tomorrow. And if the urge to gush mush came about everytime before/after sex, this blog would be a mush pit and be dismissed as trashy spam written by a maniac whose brains have turned to mush from all the sex.

So no, the rush to gush mush is not dependent on the availability of sex (or god forbid, the lack of it). And sex is most certainly not dependent on the urge to gush mush. Did I mention how much I love you dear (even though we piss each other off sometimes)? [Insert various mushy statements.]

In the Heat of the Night - Sandra

In the heat of the night,
You'll lose your heart and sell your soul.
I lose control
In the heat of the night...