The sex dreams have ceased; I can finally look at him in the eyes again. I am partially sad because they left just as unexpectedly as they came. Besides, they were fun. I'm reminded of what Rodney Dangerfield once said, "If it weren't for pickpockets, I'd have no sex life at all." The dreams were my pickpockets.

I'd bang my head against the wall if I had one.

(A wall, I haven't lost my head just yet...)