Remember the guy from my previous post 'Hello Inspiration'? Well, we've spent the last two years becoming really good friends, and I was just about to blog and gush over our potential future love when I got punched in the stomach by his late night phone call.
His ex girlfriend got her annual check-up and found out that she has HPV. HPV that she apparently got from him because "he was the only one". I have no reason to doubt her honesty and he doesn't either, so...it's true.
Hearing the news was like being slapped. The only thing I could say was, "Whoa."
He feels guilty and confused. Understandable. HPV in men is a tad tricky. There is no FDA approved test so guys can have it, not have any symptoms, spread it to their partners, and then just get over it, without ever really knowing that anything has happened. I must say though, it caused me to raise an eyebrow at his sexual practices--no condom? Then again, HPV can spread from skin to skin contact with or without a condom so...
I mean seriously, just when I was starting to hope for more than a friendship with this guy...
I shouldn't be surprised. This is the way my luck has been with men for the past 3 years. I would join a convent, but I'm fairly sure they would take issue with my liberal use of profanity and my disbelief in god.
*sigh*
So now he's worried that I won't want to be his friend anymore. I told him I wouldn't be a friend at all if I bailed on him now. I left out the fact that my sexual fantasies about him have been positively dashed against the rocks of HPV.
Who knows where this goes from here? I sure as hell don't.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Misadventures in Cincinnati
Well, I guess it was like a month ago now. Doesn't matter.
Me, Crystal, Brandon ,and Daniel went to Cincy for a party. Along the way we stopped to pick up this kid who's really Brandon's friend..er, acquaintance...but we've all hung out with him--Jeremy.
We get to Cincy, we party, stay up late, blah, blah, blah. We meet up with one of our friends, Rhiannon, who says she got a hotel room not far from the party and says we can all come back and crash for while if we don't wanna drive straight home. We're all tired so it sounds cool, and we go.
We end up in the hotel--Rhiannon, her boyfriend Mark, Brandon, Daniel, Me, Crystal and Jeremy. We shoot the shit for a bit. Then everyone starts to fall asleep.
There's one bed in the room- Rhiannon and Mark take that, of course. There's a couch in the room that Jeremy and Crystal are sitting on, and Rhiannon mentions that it folds out into a small bed. So Crystal and Jeremy end up on that. I grab one of the couch cushions and cop a spot on the floor under the desk (more comfortable than it sounds). Brandon and Daniel are on the floor too.
Lights out. Every one's quiet.
I don't know how long I was asleep, but I slowly start to wake up because I keep hearing this noise in the back of my mind. I think maybe I'm dreaming so I open my eyes and listen...what's that creaking sound? I realize that it's the hideaway bed that Jeremy and Crystal are on. So, in my naivete, I look up--with the intention of saying "Will you assholes be still?" And what do I see? Jeremy's naked back. Upon listening more closely, I hear Crystal panting faintly in a vain attempt to hide the fact that- THESE TWO ARE FUCKING!
I wish someone had been there to take my picture. I'm sure the look on my face was priceless. A mix of "What?!", "Oh my god!" , "No they are not!", and "Ewww!" I mean, Crystal's like my baby sister so you can understand why I wouldn't want to be in same room while this is happening.
At this point, I have to pee. So I lay my head back down and try to find a happy place while they finish. They finish. I immediately get up to go the bathroom-stunned and appalled. While I'm in the bathroom Crystals knocks on the door. I let her in. Then I just start laughing. We discuss for a bit--She says his dick was small. She freaking a little about the fact that they didn't use a condom and she just stopped taking her birth control because she couldn't stop smoking, "I didn't wanna kill myself!", she says. I tried to reassure her and sympathize, but I was still a bit stunned by what I just experienced--I'm sure she was too.
We smoke a cigarette in the bathroom ( I figured she could surely use one) then go back into the room. At this point, I turn on one of lamps in the room to see if anyone else is awake, and yep, everyone is. Brandon has a look on his face that I can't even begin to describe (fucking hilarious). Soooo, I crawl over to where Brandon is and start giggling, then he starts giggling, then Daniel starts giggling. Jeremy and Crystal are silent. I mention that it's fucking cold in the room. Crystal throws a blanket on me and Brandon, "Here you guys can use this."
My reaction? "Eww, hell naw!"
Brandon says, "I'll have no part of your blanket of disrepute!!". At this point the we all start laughing hysterically and can't be stopped. Meanwhile,Crystal dies inside because she knows we KNOW. We teased her mercilessly all the way back to Indy.
Apparently, I slept through quite a bit (thank god!) and missed most of the foreplay and what not. Brandon said he knew what was going on when he heard the distinct 'suck/pop' of a cock leaving someones mouth. All I can think is--"Goddamn, she gave him head too??!!"
Now, just so Crystal doesn't come off like a complete slut I must say this--She used weigh about 350lbs, she had mad low self-esteem issues, she's 27 and hasn't had a boyfriend or sex for almost ten years. About 4 years ago she had gastric bypass surgery, and is just now getting to the point where she feels confident enough to talk to men. Jeremy is the first dude she's been with (in the biblical sense) in a grip.
Anyway, we get back to Indy and drop Jeremy off. He mumbles good-bye to Crystal. I notice that he doesn't offer his number or ask for hers. I silently hope Crystal noticed that too.
Other than our good-natured ribbing, Brandon and I really don't give Crystal any shit about what happened. I ask her if it was just a one-time thing, or was she trying to have something more serious. Her answer changed about 5 times within the next week: first she says it was just a fling--to get her back on the horse if you will. Then, she's always liked Jeremy and always felt there was something between them. Then she's just looking for fuck buddy until something more serious comes along.
I can see that 'dick' has sent the girl for a loop. As I imagine it would anyone who'd had that long of dry spell. I try to help her think logically, "Well, if you wanna see what's up you should call him. Just be laid back so you don't come off desperate or clingy."
Meanwhile, Jeremy has made no attempt to contact Crystal. A clear enough message to me, but Crystal figures he's just "shy" like her.
So after about a week and a half of Crystal obsessing and Jeremy not calling, she understands that it was a one-night stand. I really think she expected more.
I feel a little bad for Crystal. This whole thing was so 'high school', and this isn't the first time that Crystal's done something so...immature. On more than one occasion she's had make out sessions with some random dude at the club, then can't look him in the eye the next weekend.
But Crystal didn't have the same dating experience that most of us have had in high school and college. So now, at 27, she's learning about relationships and men the hard way. The same way most of us did, only earlier in life.
It's weird to have a friend going through such things at this age, but experience is the best teacher. I'll be there for her no matter what.
Me, Crystal, Brandon ,and Daniel went to Cincy for a party. Along the way we stopped to pick up this kid who's really Brandon's friend..er, acquaintance...but we've all hung out with him--Jeremy.
We get to Cincy, we party, stay up late, blah, blah, blah. We meet up with one of our friends, Rhiannon, who says she got a hotel room not far from the party and says we can all come back and crash for while if we don't wanna drive straight home. We're all tired so it sounds cool, and we go.
We end up in the hotel--Rhiannon, her boyfriend Mark, Brandon, Daniel, Me, Crystal and Jeremy. We shoot the shit for a bit. Then everyone starts to fall asleep.
There's one bed in the room- Rhiannon and Mark take that, of course. There's a couch in the room that Jeremy and Crystal are sitting on, and Rhiannon mentions that it folds out into a small bed. So Crystal and Jeremy end up on that. I grab one of the couch cushions and cop a spot on the floor under the desk (more comfortable than it sounds). Brandon and Daniel are on the floor too.
Lights out. Every one's quiet.
I don't know how long I was asleep, but I slowly start to wake up because I keep hearing this noise in the back of my mind. I think maybe I'm dreaming so I open my eyes and listen...what's that creaking sound? I realize that it's the hideaway bed that Jeremy and Crystal are on. So, in my naivete, I look up--with the intention of saying "Will you assholes be still?" And what do I see? Jeremy's naked back. Upon listening more closely, I hear Crystal panting faintly in a vain attempt to hide the fact that- THESE TWO ARE FUCKING!
I wish someone had been there to take my picture. I'm sure the look on my face was priceless. A mix of "What?!", "Oh my god!" , "No they are not!", and "Ewww!" I mean, Crystal's like my baby sister so you can understand why I wouldn't want to be in same room while this is happening.
At this point, I have to pee. So I lay my head back down and try to find a happy place while they finish. They finish. I immediately get up to go the bathroom-stunned and appalled. While I'm in the bathroom Crystals knocks on the door. I let her in. Then I just start laughing. We discuss for a bit--She says his dick was small. She freaking a little about the fact that they didn't use a condom and she just stopped taking her birth control because she couldn't stop smoking, "I didn't wanna kill myself!", she says. I tried to reassure her and sympathize, but I was still a bit stunned by what I just experienced--I'm sure she was too.
We smoke a cigarette in the bathroom ( I figured she could surely use one) then go back into the room. At this point, I turn on one of lamps in the room to see if anyone else is awake, and yep, everyone is. Brandon has a look on his face that I can't even begin to describe (fucking hilarious). Soooo, I crawl over to where Brandon is and start giggling, then he starts giggling, then Daniel starts giggling. Jeremy and Crystal are silent. I mention that it's fucking cold in the room. Crystal throws a blanket on me and Brandon, "Here you guys can use this."
My reaction? "Eww, hell naw!"
Brandon says, "I'll have no part of your blanket of disrepute!!". At this point the we all start laughing hysterically and can't be stopped. Meanwhile,Crystal dies inside because she knows we KNOW. We teased her mercilessly all the way back to Indy.
Apparently, I slept through quite a bit (thank god!) and missed most of the foreplay and what not. Brandon said he knew what was going on when he heard the distinct 'suck/pop' of a cock leaving someones mouth. All I can think is--"Goddamn, she gave him head too??!!"
Now, just so Crystal doesn't come off like a complete slut I must say this--She used weigh about 350lbs, she had mad low self-esteem issues, she's 27 and hasn't had a boyfriend or sex for almost ten years. About 4 years ago she had gastric bypass surgery, and is just now getting to the point where she feels confident enough to talk to men. Jeremy is the first dude she's been with (in the biblical sense) in a grip.
Anyway, we get back to Indy and drop Jeremy off. He mumbles good-bye to Crystal. I notice that he doesn't offer his number or ask for hers. I silently hope Crystal noticed that too.
Other than our good-natured ribbing, Brandon and I really don't give Crystal any shit about what happened. I ask her if it was just a one-time thing, or was she trying to have something more serious. Her answer changed about 5 times within the next week: first she says it was just a fling--to get her back on the horse if you will. Then, she's always liked Jeremy and always felt there was something between them. Then she's just looking for fuck buddy until something more serious comes along.
I can see that 'dick' has sent the girl for a loop. As I imagine it would anyone who'd had that long of dry spell. I try to help her think logically, "Well, if you wanna see what's up you should call him. Just be laid back so you don't come off desperate or clingy."
Meanwhile, Jeremy has made no attempt to contact Crystal. A clear enough message to me, but Crystal figures he's just "shy" like her.
So after about a week and a half of Crystal obsessing and Jeremy not calling, she understands that it was a one-night stand. I really think she expected more.
I feel a little bad for Crystal. This whole thing was so 'high school', and this isn't the first time that Crystal's done something so...immature. On more than one occasion she's had make out sessions with some random dude at the club, then can't look him in the eye the next weekend.
But Crystal didn't have the same dating experience that most of us have had in high school and college. So now, at 27, she's learning about relationships and men the hard way. The same way most of us did, only earlier in life.
It's weird to have a friend going through such things at this age, but experience is the best teacher. I'll be there for her no matter what.
The Fraggle Story
Ok, so in order to understand the Fraggle story I have to tell you my middle name. But before I tell you my middle name you have to understand that I HATE my middle name, and in order to preserve our friendship you should refrain from calling me by it once you learn what it is.
Agreed? Ok.
My middle name is Jaribu. No, it is not pronounced like 'caribou'--nothing pisses me off more. The 'I' is pronounced like an 'E'. Jar-e-bu. Got it? It's Swahili, it means 'one who tries', and yes...my parents were black hippies.
So there's a character on Fraggle Rock named Boober. My mom thought it would be cute to call me Boober since my middle name ends in 'bu'. Of course there were several variations: Jaboober, Booberloober, etc. And it was cute. WHEN I WAS NINE.
But Moms loved the nick name, and it stuck with me through middle school and high school--which would have been fine if I hadn't started developing what would turn out to be really large breasts at the age of 12. Being called anything with the word 'boob' in it at a time when you have a rack you have no clue what do with...well, you get the picture.
Unfortunately, Moms developed quite a habit with the name, and would indiscriminately call me Boober in public, around family, or *clutch the pearls* when boys would call the house to talk to me. Imagine my chagrin.
Mom: "Boooober,telephone".
Me: "MOM!!!".
Me: "Hello?"
Him: "Boober, huh? *chuckle* Yeah I bet I know where that came from"
Me:"You have no idea." **dying inside***
So yeah, that's the story. Moms still calls me Boober too, but she's more careful about it now. I get birthday cards and stuff like that with 'Boober' on the envelope.
Agreed? Ok.
My middle name is Jaribu. No, it is not pronounced like 'caribou'--nothing pisses me off more. The 'I' is pronounced like an 'E'. Jar-e-bu. Got it? It's Swahili, it means 'one who tries', and yes...my parents were black hippies.
So there's a character on Fraggle Rock named Boober. My mom thought it would be cute to call me Boober since my middle name ends in 'bu'. Of course there were several variations: Jaboober, Booberloober, etc. And it was cute. WHEN I WAS NINE.
But Moms loved the nick name, and it stuck with me through middle school and high school--which would have been fine if I hadn't started developing what would turn out to be really large breasts at the age of 12. Being called anything with the word 'boob' in it at a time when you have a rack you have no clue what do with...well, you get the picture.
Unfortunately, Moms developed quite a habit with the name, and would indiscriminately call me Boober in public, around family, or *clutch the pearls* when boys would call the house to talk to me. Imagine my chagrin.
Mom: "Boooober,telephone".
Me: "MOM!!!".
Me: "Hello?"
Him: "Boober, huh? *chuckle* Yeah I bet I know where that came from"
Me:"You have no idea." **dying inside***
So yeah, that's the story. Moms still calls me Boober too, but she's more careful about it now. I get birthday cards and stuff like that with 'Boober' on the envelope.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Friday, September 15, 2006
The first cut...
Steve called me sounding rather frantic last night. With tears in his voice, he left a message on my machine begging me to call, saying he needed to talk to someone. He left another message a few hours later thanking me for forgetting about him--"just like everybody else".
My first instinct is to ignore him. I know this game well and last night I didn't feel like playing. Steve's a master at selling a sob story, making you pity him--only to hate you later for the very same thing.
But there was more realism in his voice than I'm used to hearing so I gave in and called back. He was drunk, probably had a few pills and plenty of weed in his system--par for the course with this guy.
He didn't seem too eager to talk. He repeatedly said nothing was wrong, then mumbled something about how he was psychotic (no shit). I told him it was late and I had to work the next day.
Today he sends me this e-mail:
I'm just sick in the head. I think I need to seek help. I did something last night I never thought I'd do. I'm happy you didn't come down to my house when you got home because it was too late and you would have been completely freaked out, then maybe not talk to me any more. I really did need someone to come watch me earlier in the night though. If you want to know then I can tell you what I did to myself, but I'm sure you can figure it out. I feel stupid for doing it but I had to do something to direct the pain some where else. I just can't handle much more of this life.
So Steve's a fucking suicidal cutter now? It makes me sad and angry at the same time. I want to ignore him completely, tell him to solve his own damn problems and stop trying to guilt me into feeling something for him. Then again, I can't imagine how horrible I would feel if he really did kill himself and I didn't do anything to help him.
So what to do is the question? I hate Steve in so many ways, for so many reasons. He really is a shitty person in general-mean, jealous, spiteful, vindictive--the list could go on forever, but it doesn't mean I wish he was dead. Because Steve is the way he is, he has very few friends so I know that even with our rocky history, I am one of the only people he will turn to for help. But how does someone who rarely, if ever, shows any human kindness feel like he deserves it now?
Am I obligated to care?
Am I letting him make me feel this way?
Is this just another ploy for attention?
Am I a saint or a sucker?
I'm so divided right now. Part of me wants to just walk away and forget he ever exsisted, then there's the part of me that knows that Steve's is truly fucked up and I should at the very least try to help him.
?
My first instinct is to ignore him. I know this game well and last night I didn't feel like playing. Steve's a master at selling a sob story, making you pity him--only to hate you later for the very same thing.
But there was more realism in his voice than I'm used to hearing so I gave in and called back. He was drunk, probably had a few pills and plenty of weed in his system--par for the course with this guy.
He didn't seem too eager to talk. He repeatedly said nothing was wrong, then mumbled something about how he was psychotic (no shit). I told him it was late and I had to work the next day.
Today he sends me this e-mail:
I'm just sick in the head. I think I need to seek help. I did something last night I never thought I'd do. I'm happy you didn't come down to my house when you got home because it was too late and you would have been completely freaked out, then maybe not talk to me any more. I really did need someone to come watch me earlier in the night though. If you want to know then I can tell you what I did to myself, but I'm sure you can figure it out. I feel stupid for doing it but I had to do something to direct the pain some where else. I just can't handle much more of this life.
So Steve's a fucking suicidal cutter now? It makes me sad and angry at the same time. I want to ignore him completely, tell him to solve his own damn problems and stop trying to guilt me into feeling something for him. Then again, I can't imagine how horrible I would feel if he really did kill himself and I didn't do anything to help him.
So what to do is the question? I hate Steve in so many ways, for so many reasons. He really is a shitty person in general-mean, jealous, spiteful, vindictive--the list could go on forever, but it doesn't mean I wish he was dead. Because Steve is the way he is, he has very few friends so I know that even with our rocky history, I am one of the only people he will turn to for help. But how does someone who rarely, if ever, shows any human kindness feel like he deserves it now?
Am I obligated to care?
Am I letting him make me feel this way?
Is this just another ploy for attention?
Am I a saint or a sucker?
I'm so divided right now. Part of me wants to just walk away and forget he ever exsisted, then there's the part of me that knows that Steve's is truly fucked up and I should at the very least try to help him.
?
Friday, August 18, 2006
The ninjas have arrived
I suppose it's a bit odd for me to blog about the birth of someone else's children but I'm excited nonetheless.
Welcome to the world Chuck and Rakim. ;-)
Welcome to the world Chuck and Rakim. ;-)
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
The Comeback Kid
Do I smell desperate or something?
Within the last week or so two of my ex-boyfriends have made feeble attempts at rekindling our relationship.
First Steve, the infamous, stopped by my house and left a note on the door:
"I really don't care who I pissoff. I want to talk to you. Call me. TRUCE."
I didn't call; and what's this "TRUCE" shit about? I never knew we were at war. He called twice the same day he left the note, I didn't answer. Then he e-mailed me at work the next day (persistent little bugger) sort of blowing off the whole thing like he didn't know what he was thinking when he left the note. I asked him what he wanted to talk to me about. He said, "Nothing. Just wanted to talk to an old friend" HA! I told him I was surprised he still considered me a friend. Again, he made excuses for his behavior, "You know how manic I can be." Boy do I ever. He told me I could call him sometime if I wanted. I didn't have any desire to do so, so I figured it would be best to end it there. I told him I didn't think it was a good idea for us to try and be friends and that we should just leave things the way they are. He said he figured things would turn out like that and went about his merry way...Or not so merry way, whatever the case may be.
Last night, 'my favorite mistake' called. I haven't talked to him for months. The last few times we spoke were unpleasant and disappointing. I had pretty much resolved not to talk to him anymore. He left a message on the answering machine- I miss you, blah , blah, blah. Whatever. I pressed delete and went to bed.
I remember when my first boyfriend broke up with me (because I wouldn't have sex with him--I was 15 for godssake!) my Mom said something I'll never forget, "He'll come back, they always do, and by that time you won't want him anymore." Maybe Mom's words were magic, but I can tell you that every single guy who has ever cheated on, stopped calling, or otherwise dumped me, has always come back with his heart (or his dick) in his hand for a second chance, and like Mom said, I didn't want them (well, most of the time anyway).
So when people say things like "The grass in not always greener..." They're not just blowing smoke up your ass. You should treat life like a chess game and consider all angles before you make a move. You never know, you could close a door and try to open it later only to find that the locks have been changed.
Within the last week or so two of my ex-boyfriends have made feeble attempts at rekindling our relationship.
First Steve, the infamous, stopped by my house and left a note on the door:
"I really don't care who I pissoff. I want to talk to you. Call me. TRUCE."
I didn't call; and what's this "TRUCE" shit about? I never knew we were at war. He called twice the same day he left the note, I didn't answer. Then he e-mailed me at work the next day (persistent little bugger) sort of blowing off the whole thing like he didn't know what he was thinking when he left the note. I asked him what he wanted to talk to me about. He said, "Nothing. Just wanted to talk to an old friend" HA! I told him I was surprised he still considered me a friend. Again, he made excuses for his behavior, "You know how manic I can be." Boy do I ever. He told me I could call him sometime if I wanted. I didn't have any desire to do so, so I figured it would be best to end it there. I told him I didn't think it was a good idea for us to try and be friends and that we should just leave things the way they are. He said he figured things would turn out like that and went about his merry way...Or not so merry way, whatever the case may be.
Last night, 'my favorite mistake' called. I haven't talked to him for months. The last few times we spoke were unpleasant and disappointing. I had pretty much resolved not to talk to him anymore. He left a message on the answering machine- I miss you, blah , blah, blah. Whatever. I pressed delete and went to bed.
I remember when my first boyfriend broke up with me (because I wouldn't have sex with him--I was 15 for godssake!) my Mom said something I'll never forget, "He'll come back, they always do, and by that time you won't want him anymore." Maybe Mom's words were magic, but I can tell you that every single guy who has ever cheated on, stopped calling, or otherwise dumped me, has always come back with his heart (or his dick) in his hand for a second chance, and like Mom said, I didn't want them (well, most of the time anyway).
So when people say things like "The grass in not always greener..." They're not just blowing smoke up your ass. You should treat life like a chess game and consider all angles before you make a move. You never know, you could close a door and try to open it later only to find that the locks have been changed.
Friday, July 07, 2006
I'm a big girl now.
I got a new bed.
I’ve been sleeping in the same bed since I was freshman in high school. A single-sized, brass daybed, which was of course the shit when I got it but over time, became my albatross. As the bed got older it creaked like the Tin Man, a problem my mother temporarily remedied by stuffing bits of tissue in the various joints of the bed. Over time even this remedy was to no avail.
I slept in the bed through high school. Then I went to college where every dorm room had a single bed, even smaller than what I was accustomed to, and the daybed went into storage. When I came home for visits and vacations I would sleep in my parent’s guest room which always had a cushy double bed in it for my sleeping pleasure.
When I moved into my first apartment in 1998 my only possessions were my daybed, a TV stand and my dresser. My mattress served as the only piece of furniture in my living room until my parents took pity on me and bought me a couch. I then took to sleeping on the couch instead of the noisy bed.
The size of my daybed was a hindrance to my sex life for many years. The thought of having an overnight guest crammed next to me in that tiny bed sent me into waves of embarrassment. Especially once the bed frame broke and I took to simply laying the mattress on the floor.
I also felt a tad bit immature sleeping in a single bed after the age of 20. Don’t ask me why I never got a bigger bed before now. It was always on my list of things I need but was often replaced by items I deemed more important, namely my never ending stack of monthly bills.
So finally, at age 32 I have a double bed of my very own. Sleeping has been lovely, even though I’m still sleeping alone. The bed has yet to improve my sex life or my prospects of an overnight guest. Then again, I’ve only had it for a week. But hey, at least it’s there –just in case.
I’ve been sleeping in the same bed since I was freshman in high school. A single-sized, brass daybed, which was of course the shit when I got it but over time, became my albatross. As the bed got older it creaked like the Tin Man, a problem my mother temporarily remedied by stuffing bits of tissue in the various joints of the bed. Over time even this remedy was to no avail.
I slept in the bed through high school. Then I went to college where every dorm room had a single bed, even smaller than what I was accustomed to, and the daybed went into storage. When I came home for visits and vacations I would sleep in my parent’s guest room which always had a cushy double bed in it for my sleeping pleasure.
When I moved into my first apartment in 1998 my only possessions were my daybed, a TV stand and my dresser. My mattress served as the only piece of furniture in my living room until my parents took pity on me and bought me a couch. I then took to sleeping on the couch instead of the noisy bed.
The size of my daybed was a hindrance to my sex life for many years. The thought of having an overnight guest crammed next to me in that tiny bed sent me into waves of embarrassment. Especially once the bed frame broke and I took to simply laying the mattress on the floor.
I also felt a tad bit immature sleeping in a single bed after the age of 20. Don’t ask me why I never got a bigger bed before now. It was always on my list of things I need but was often replaced by items I deemed more important, namely my never ending stack of monthly bills.
So finally, at age 32 I have a double bed of my very own. Sleeping has been lovely, even though I’m still sleeping alone. The bed has yet to improve my sex life or my prospects of an overnight guest. Then again, I’ve only had it for a week. But hey, at least it’s there –just in case.
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