We've spent much of our time familiarising ourselves with each other and especially accustoming myself to living in close quarters with another person... I ceased writing this journal as there was simply nothing that required remembering and nothing of note that actually happened. Robyn continuously made quite explicit advances at me and I decided to let nature take it's course and she would soon tire of it. She has amazed me by proving me wrong in so far as she did not tire of this 'hobby' at. " That's all part of the love we USED to share and there's no reason why we can't have that again. But, I can't live on the memory of it. Wait, actually I can, because when we ARE at a time or an age when we can't actually make each other happy that way, we can hug and hold each other remembering the joys we made for each other. That's love. Hiding at your work station to obsess over your job, curling up on the sofa in a trance to watch mundane playhouse life's unfold on the TV and taping every. While leaving through Brussels, I'd had to dispatch a couple agents that were following me.I made it to the top landing of the stairs without being discovered. To my left was the bedroom. He was in there. I was ready. I still had 42 rounds in the clip and another full clip. I crawled to the doorway and looked in. I didn't see anyone. I brought the lowlight goggles up and still couldn't see anyone. I discarded the glasses. I heard a thunk and the wood above my head splintered. I quickly ducked. Since spankingswere one type of interaction my dad did do, I ended up making this powerdisplay a central theme in my adult fantasy life. I thought that somehow,if my dad really whipped me hard (which he never did) it would somehow"make a man out of me."In the early sixties it was still common for dads to whip their sons inworking-class neighborhoods. I remember hearing a k** down the streetreally "getting it" from his dad, on more than one occasion, who used arazor strop on his boys out in.