He is the Bee, and I am the honey. I'd say I'm pretty sweet on him.

Jones Soda (Jonesing for a Jones is their slogan), a marvelous beverage to be consumed, is rated at an all-time seven in my book.

Brandon Jones. Brandon Keith Jones: Also known as BEE; it fits like leather, Italian shoes after they break-in to the soles of one's feet. This cat has all the works of a water hose, with the tricks of a sprinkler. Granted, I never, beforehand, considered him on the charts of someone for me. Initially, I cockily stated that "he would be minep;" however, I never once quelled my conceit long enough to realize that my words were a plausible reality. Oh, sure, no one is impeccable, indeed. My only leery fault with this lad is that he is thirty, soon to be thirty-one; and I am eighteen; that's boarder-line of legal through the officer's sunglasses. I would, without hesitation, be delighted to disclose that age is but only a number: that meaningless phrase would be false (regardless of my denial orally of said fraud). Brandon is an adult. Despite his humor, adventurous demeanor, sly sarcasm, and easily switched giggle-box, he has still skipped upon the stones in the river that I have yet to even notice are flowing ahead of me.
My fit: I would fancy a fellow who experiences things with me; he shall know me as I change. Seeing as how I've gained so much maturity in the previous two years, the chances and aims of me being this me are slim as an eighteen wheeler crossing an ancient bridge.

Sure, Brandon knows himself. He isn't digging the whole harlot scene any longer. He is in it to win it. Will not the lads my age be that way in a few years as well? Can I not wait for them? Are they not worth my waiting? Brandon, eleven years ago, was in their converse shoes: chatting about sexual intercourse, teasing his pals about parties they attended, committing numerous douche bag activities. After a decade of growing up, he's the Brandon that I know well and find agreeable.
Confused as to if he'll still like me after a month: where I am.
In a healthy relationship, whirled in a sense of peace: where I wish to be.

PLEASE LET THIS ONE STAY FOREVER.
Aside from age, aside from status, aside from anything, I really like Brandon.
I want this to go somewhere.

Baah.
I need a white chocolate mocha latte' with two shots of expresso--and make it snappy.