The park smelled sweet and I was sweet to. I’d been jogging several times a week here for years and my fantasy is always to have an affair. But not the kind you might be thinking–or maybe I’m being presumptuous.
I’m talking about just meeting up with a guy, during or after a run, while still sweaty and the us just stealing away behind a bald cypress and kissing there for just a few quick minutes. And laughing about it. In fact, the kissing would be interrupted by the laughter oftentimes. We’d be laughing because this was just as out of our respective natures, just as much for him as for me. That would be our “thing,” so to speak, that healthy dose of WTF that would send us into peals of laughter before anything more serious happened.

Guilt does makes cowards of us all.
So I just jog and fantasize and then I’m back into my real world, still sweaty and still able to get kisses from my real-life betrothed who isn’t so bad, not one bit actually.

I can laugh about it, actually.