January 12

At first I was flattered by Gorp's jealous rages. But now that it's an obsession, I'm having second thoughts.

Any man who lives in our cave is my lover, according to the world of Gorp.

A man has only to glance in my direction and Gorp demands to know his name, his measurements, and whether he prefers the torch on or off during lovemaking.

Now Gorp even suspects the cave cleaner, a gnarled carbuncle of a man, who sweeps out the cave on alternate Fridays, and rubs down the walls with lemon oil to keep the dust from floating around and making us sneeze.

Vile, the twisted and repulsive cave cleaner, says jealousy is a green monster. And that I should dump Gorp and give him a shot.

July 3

You can't be subtle when talking to a man. Especially when you're trying to get him to do something important.

"Pez, sweetheart … it would be lovely if we didn't have to climb over that big boulder that's been blocking the entrance to the cave for a month."

If he answers at all, he'll probably nod and agree that is would be good not to climb over the boulder. But he still won't do anything about it. At least not for another six months.

A more direct approach would be better. "Pez, sweetheart … move the fucking boulder!"

I can't get Shag out of my mind. He's so considerate in bed.

Whenever he pleasures me, he always makes sure I scream before he spurts.

But his damn clan is 20 miles away. And he refuses to move closer. Even though I promise to make it worth his while.

From time to time, he comes and spends the weekend. But he says it's too long a walk to do week after week. My weekends with Shag are so happy. We make love 3 times a day. He cooks us dinner. And in our spare time we fish. Ride horses. Watch the waves. And skinny dip in the cove at Dinosaur Creek.

I told Oomf, my girlfriend, all about Shag. Then I asked her what I should do to hang onto this treasure. Her advice was to move.

A hundred men within a stone's throw of my cave, and I'm nuts about an out-of-towner.

"Tell you what," says Oomf. "You stay here and I'll move!"
 

March 16

Last night was my first and last date with Tong, who talks mostly about killing things.

"I like to hunt animals down," he said, "and then watch the fear in their eyes when they know their time is up."

I nodded slightly and said I know what you mean. But I was thinking how can I end this date without getting myself bludgeoned or skewered by Tong the wacko.

On our walk down to Blood River, Tong and I ran into Broos (the prissy ex-boyfriend who loved gathering) and he gave me a big Broos hug.

Tong growled, bared his upper teeth, and stroked his spear menacingly. I explained that Broos was just a friend who liked to sew, cook, and watch sunsets.

When we got to Blood River, Tong said he knew where two bodies had washed up on the shore and would I enjoy seeing them.

"Nothing would please me more," I said. "But I just started my  period and I'm feeling kind of bloated and crampy."

Tong left with what I would describe as a disgusted look on his face.