That's why I like to space out my kisses, to ration Zing, to save it for days when I've been really good. Of course this never works, you just end up with a rather cranky guy. But the loss of Zing scares me more than I can say. Is this the life I'll be confined to, slowly reverting to the kiss out of habit, out of reaction? Is it an inevitable demise? Is this what all relationships become - a slow unravelling into a comfortable, lazy day lemonade existence of complaisant habit?
Monday, April 07, 2003
Rationing "Zing"
Trish-Y blogs about the importance of rationing "Zing":
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