Some conversations are distractions, whispers in the ear up here for the hand to make advances down there, toward the knee. Toward the knee, as we all know, is where the important stuff occurs, why fathers fetch firearms, since no amount of talking, sweet or otherwise, will convince the advancing army to stand fast. And at ease, to be sure.
The Sweet Talk blog is a nice place for sweet talking, but I sometimes wonder: am I being distracted from a life and death confrontation? To be honest, I, personally, wonder this during any civil conversation. Am I being seduced by something said into something I don’t want to do? What if I’m not that kind of girl? What if I am? Oh, no! What if I’m the seducer? When the talking is rude and uncivil, I have no doubts at all about what I believe and who I am.
On the other hand, sweet nothings are rarely nothing; they’re something to conceive the idea of conceiving. Those ideas whispered in the ear might not be a distraction at all, but a context for the advances going on toward the knee, to explain what’s happening and why it’s good, even when it’s bad. Or naughty, or whatever. Moral fortitude lets my no be a resolute no, even if I do not entirely understand the raison de négation. I mean, just what is being whispered into the ear?
Nevertheless, the real work is in talking to Daddy when his ire is up, and also the hammer of his Colt .45. Sweet talk might just save your life.