French goddesses and socialettes

God damn are there some beautiful women in the city (in fact not all French), and moreover, in this here building. Trouble lies in focusing on any given one, so I'll focus on all of them, equally, and hope for something/someone that will elude my conscience mind; just take me; eliminate concepts of craving and aversion in whatever new relationship awaits me. In the mean time, I'll allow my heart to aneur. And how does one go about meeting and greeting these wonderfully… pause…

I've been eating dates. They are desirably sweet, moist, delicious and good for you. Could that be where the idea of "going on a date" originates? ;)

…wonderfully and desirably sweet visions and a proof of a higher power: the socialette. I HATE SMOKING, but love smoke breaks. The social cigarette has forever been a pillar in all my extroverted mandates. It provides we smokers with the indispensable ability to leave our desks, GO OUTSIDE, leave work behind, and discuss whatever over the 3 – 5 minutes we have together under the banners of "Wow. Are we ever dumb fucks for smoking!" and "Damn it's nice/cold/wet out!" and "So what's up/new/your name?" You'd be amazed how flattering it can be when someone chains a second socialette just to make it a 6 – 10 minute rendezvous.

I must figure out a way to maintain the qualities of socialette-isms without the inescapable 25 year reunion in a cancer ward and painfully reduced quality of life; pink has always been my color of choice. ;)

Maybe I could just light them and let them burn? Wash my hand after and done?