Stocking Filler

Seeing as party season is upon us, I thought I’d drag out an old poem I penned when contemplating a rather inappropriate proposition a couple of years ago.  

If I found you in my stocking

It wouldn't be all that shocking

Willing, able and hearty

For the Christmas party

You could be my date

To be a friendly mate

And seeing as you're single

We could even mingle

With a possible proposal

Aimed at your disposal

Here's a little clue

A hotel room for two

It wouldn't be all that shocking

If I found you in my stocking

So that was summit old. Now for summit news.

Since writing this poem, a lot has happened in my personal sphere. I am well and truly sin-saily single, with promising potential, should a rampant stud come sauntering past. Not such a wham bam phishing notion as I was once led to believe. Why, only this week, a rather nice young chap even offered to accompany me to a coastal retreat. Me finks he was coached by the great guys I work with, but who cares. It certainly made my day, even if tasks pending left the unqualified offer dangling somewhere between the fax machine and filing cabinets.

It was, without a doubt, the best articulated and realistically engineered offer I've had in years.