And Then There Was a Vibrator

Sunday night, after Mr. Curls had dropped off the boys with their mom, I went over to see him. This was the first time since I got my X-rated mail that he and I had a chance to be together privately. When I got there, he was pretty worn out from running around with the boys all weekend and the first thing we did was cuddle up on the couch. After the "how was your day" chit chat, I got brave enough to mention what I'd been thinking ever since I walked in the door.

"So, how tired would you say that you are?" I asked, oh-so-nonchalantly.

He gave me the look that said he knew exactly what I meant, then he said, "Oh, you know. Why, is there something in particular you had in mind?"

That's when I started blushing. "Um, well... Um. You know that package I mentioned? I, uh, brought it along and was wondering if you wanted to see what it was."

"Really?" He said it slowly, smiling and enjoying watching me squirm. "Hrm... that's interesting. Yeah, I think I might be kind of curious."

A couple minutes and significantly less clothing later came a bit of show and tell and then a bit of other things.

"So, what do you think?" I asked him afterward.

"What do you think?" He countered.

"I like adding it in. You?"

"I like it. It was interesting to feel the vibrations through you. I liked that. I especially like that you like it."

The experiment went well. I'm glad. Not just for, ahem, obvious reasons. I'm also glad that I was confident enough with him to even bring up the sex toy idea, much less use one. We're getting each other figured out and I'm getting more comfortable with taking something that had, for years, been a solo activity and turning it into a team sport.

Meeting the Kids *Dum Dum Dum!*

"Are you nervous?" Mr. Curls asked Friday.
"No, not really. You?"
"Um... yeah," he admitted.
I gave him an extra tight hug and sent him on his way.

Saturday, I got to the mall a couple minutes before Mr. Curls and the kids did. I watched them walk up, thinking, "That's them. Those are the kids." Then I gave Mr. Curls a hug hello and got introduced to the boys and we were off to play black light mini golf.

We got set up with our neon golf balls and clubs and decided to tee off in order of height. The nine year old went first, then me, then the other boy, then Mr. Curls. I was entertained that the only one shorter than me was nine. I was especially entertained 'cause I was wearing boots that have an inch and a half heel on them.

Mr. Curls won the first round of golf so I propositioned the boys. "Alright guys, one of us has to beat him this time." They were all over that idea. As Mr. Curls got ready to take his shot on the first hole, me and the boys made faces at him to ruin his concentration. It worked, too. The teenager won round two. As I told Mr. Curls, ganging up on him was a calculated move 'cause I didn't want the boys to feel like I was competition for his attention or such, so if I could be on their side, then it'd help avoid that interloper feeling.

At any rate, after round two, and Mr. Curls carefully recalculating the score card, the boys and I high-fived each other. Golf score aside, it was definitely a win because of how well the boys and I were getting along. After golf, we did lunch at the food court, then the boys went to the game store, giving me and Mr. Curls a minute alone.

"What do you think?" Mr. Curls asked, with just a touch of nervousness still in his voice.
"I think they're very much like you. I like them."
"Good."
"What do you think?"
He smiled, visibly more relaxed. "I think today was a good day."

He called later that night to tell me he'd talked with the boys about meeting me after they left the mall. They said they liked me. By then, I wasn't too worried, since there had been a couple things during the afternoon that told me as much - like the nine year old saying, "You're gonna come back to the apartment with us, aren't you?" So, you know, I wasn't too worried that they'd hated me.

Now I've met the kids. On to the next milestone.

It Came In the Mail, or the X-Rated Package

Mr. Curls and I, in short, have both been out of practice in terms of bedroom shenanigans. This resulted in a bit of awkwardness at the beginning, even a little more so than the typical awkwardness that comes from sleeping with someone new. But, like with many things, practice helps.

"And," I said, "in terms of things to practice, this is certainly a fun one."

He blushed, hid his face in a pillow for a second, then he leaned over and kissed me. "True," he said.

Practice helps, and the other day I was thinking that it might be interesting to add in another type of help. (Gosh, I'm blushing already, I can feel it.) Once, a couple years ago, I ordered a vibrator from Babeland. Last week I put in another order. This time for the Babeland Silver Bullet vibrator. I mentioned this to Mr. Curls the other night, and his reaction was a combination of surprise and curiosity. "Really?" he said. "Hrm..."

Yesterday, my package arrived. Since he was with his kids, I was left to my own, er, devices. I mean, since it was a new thing, it only seemed right to test it out before adding Mr. Curls into the mix. Test it I did. It was the best thing I've gotten in the mail in quite some time. (Note to self: put batteries on the shopping list.)

During our phone chat last night, we got to talking about it.

"In other news," I said, "that package I was telling you about came today."

"Oh," he said. "Interesting."

We talked about sex toys for a while. I almost asked him if he's used them with a partner before, but I balked. I know he's got the exes, and intellectually I know he had sex with them. I just don't want to really think about that. I knew if I asked, he'd tell me, and then I'd visualize and... ugh, just didn't want to go there.

At any rate, the general outcome of the conversation was that he's open for experimenting. He seemed a little nervous about it at first, because I think the first thing he imagined when I said sex toy was strap-on (mostly because of an unfortunate experience he had helping someone move and accidentally discovering theirs when they asked him to pack up some clothes). But, once I described it, he was more relaxed. I told him, "The idea is that it's complimentary."

"Right," he said. "I can see that." Then he paused. "So, did you try it out?"

"Um, yeah."

He laughed, 'cause he could hear the blush in my voice. "Hrm..." he said. It sounded like he was grinning.

Looking at Dead People + Tacky Dining + Blizzard = The Birthday Date

Last week, aka Friday of the snowstorm, Mr. Curls and I trekked to Denver to visit the museum of Nature and Science. His birthday was that Wednesday, yup, his Bday is on St. Patrick's. So, our excursion was a kind of birthday field trip, which was cool. (Side note: now that he's officially 33, I may have made an old man joke or two. That is, until he pointed out that while some might call him a cradle robber, it would be just as appropriate to call me a grave robber, and I've made fewer old man jokes since then.)

It was the perfect day, too, lemme tell ya. Driving through snow to get there was fun. Also, I was feeling pretty lousy from the cold/strep, but I didn't want to put it off 'cause I was looking forward to the museum. Yes, I am a nerd. Sue me. Once we got there, I decided to spring for the extra tickets to check out the Body Worlds exhibit. Way cool, and also surreal. Being able to walk through it with Mr. Curls and see him have the same reaction to it that I did was nice. It's not everyone's cup of tea, and certainly not for the faint of heart, but it was fascinating and he gets it.

After the museum, Mr. Curls wanted to go to Casa Bonita (as seen in South Park!) for dinner. The last time I'd been there was a field trip in third grade and I was afraid it wouldn't seem as cool now that I'm a grown up. Luckily, I had nothing to be worried about. It was way fun. We got a table right by the waterfall/diving pool and got to see the diver do his show while we ate. After, we went to the arcade and played silly games to win tickets and get silly prizes. I am now the proud owner of a set of chattery teeth and a rubber pirate ring that lights up.

Then, the drive home was outright blizzard-y for about half the way. It took an extra hour to get home, plus a stop to clean off the wipers so I could see through the windshield again. Mr. Curls was calm enough about me driving through the storm, which was a relief. There's nothing more fun than driving in bad conditions with a freaking out passenger. There was a spot or two where he got nervous, so it's not like he was oblivious, just that I was careful and he didn't think I'd kill us.

He told me later that I'm now on the list of about three people other than him who he trusts to drive in crappy weather. "There have been times when I've been riding with someone in bad conditions," he said, "and I have literally asked them to either let me drive or let me out."

All together, it was a very eventful day. It was also a day that could have ended with frayed nerves and us snapping at each other, but it didn't, which makes me happy.

Mr. Curls Is Off the Hook

I went to the doctor's office this morning 'cause this cold I've been fighting has felt like more than just a cold. After a quick once-over, the doctor said, "Looks like strep."

"I thought it might be something like that."

"Have you been around anyone who's had strep?"

"My dad had it a while back."

"Looks like you've got him to thank."

It seems it's all my dad's fault and Mr. Curls is completely absolved of guilt. Mr. Curls was pleased to hear that ;) Now I have to give my dad the what-for.

Chocolate Ice Cream For Lunch, Or At Least There's an Good Part of Dying From a Cold

After days of, "I think I'm getting better, really," this morning I finally admitted to myself that I wasn't and set up a doctor's appointment for tomorrow. I'm thinking maybe I have a sinus infection. It's awesome, lemme tell ya.

I had to run to the grocery store today and as I passed the freezer section, I thought, "I know I probably shouldn't... but the back of my throat is all painful and hot and I do have bananas at home."

So, I caved and I must say my tonsil area did start feeling better as I ate my ice cream. The cold medicine with acetaminophen probably didn't hurt, either.

Boys Really Do Have Cooties

Back when I was with my ex, I'd get sick a couple times a year. Since we split up, I didn't get sick. Not once in nearly three years. Now I'm with Mr. Curls. Guess who's sick?

It's more than just coincidence. I swear. With my ex, I was working at the bar (can you say germ infested?) and after we split up, I was still working at the bar. So, the only change was the ex. Nearly three years after that, while I worked at the bar, taught undergrads on campus, and for a brief time, did both, I didn't get sick. And, lemme tell you, undergrads are not entirely sanitary and I don't even want to know what that stain on their paper is. Get me?

Then, Mr. Curls and BAM! cold. What's the difference? Not the job.

See, the thing is, when single, I only had my own germs to contend with and those could be fought with simple things like washing my hands a lot and not kissing students on the mouth. You know, common sense. Now I have my own germs, plus Mr. Curls' germs, which means all the everything he comes into contact with, plus, depending on what weekend it is, all the things his kids come into contact with. And, since I am kissing Mr. Curls on the mouth, it's not something that can be dodged through washing my hands a lot.

When I told Mr. Curls this, he didn't believe me. "I'm not sick," he said. "I couldn't have given anything to you." But, the facts speak for themselves ;)

Everything's a trade off. Being in a relationship with a guy I adore is lovely, but I could have passed on the sore throat, thank you very much.

Mr. Curls Gets Nervous, But It's Okay Because He's Outnumbered

Last night me and Mr. Curls talked more about meeting the kids. He's nervous about it. When I asked him why, he had a hard time answering. It has to do with his latest ex, and concern for his kids, and the worry that me and them will get attached to each other and then I'll do a runner. I get it.

He talked to his sister about it. She's got two kids of her own from her first marriage, so she gets it. But, as she pointed out, "From the sound of it, she's not going anywhere soon, and you don't want her to. Besides, she seems nice. It'll be fine."

I think hearing that from her eased his mind a bit. Also, the fact that both me and the kids are interested in meeting each other helps. Probably didn't hurt that they gave him a bit of grief about it. "We don't think she really exists, dad," they said. "We think you're just making her up." Though, they admitted, if he really were making me up, he could at least have made up a girlfriend who's something, anything else other than a teacher. E, the nine year old, was sorely disappointed that I teach English of all things. Apparently, he'd prefer I was a science teacher. Hard to argue that, though. Doing experiments and occasionally blowing stuff up truly would be way cooler than grading papers all the time.

In any event, he isn't quite ready to name the date, but it'd bet we'll all start getting to know each other the next time he has the boys for the weekend, which means the weekend after next.

Taking It Slow, Taking the Plunge

This post is a kind of follow up to my last one. Over the past couple of days, I've had a couple of conversations with Mr. Curls about his social circle and his kids. I brought up my interest in getting to know his circle better, and he pointed out that, right now, the people who are close to him are largely far away. The most important people to him are his "sister" who's in town, his "brother" who's a couple hours away, his kids, who live an hour and a half away, and his parents, who're in Florida. He gets along well with his coworkers, but they don't especially hang out a lot.

In short, the fact that he's been meshing with my circle more than I've been meeting his is primarily a geography thing. Since I've mentioned an interest in getting more involved with his friends, he kind of made a mental note and said one of his coworkers had made a comment about how he should have Mr. Curls and me over for a BBQ. So, maybe I'm doing a BBQ in the near future.

Then, there are the kids. This weekend is Mr. Curls' weekend with his boys. We were together Friday afternoon right before he left to pick them up. He looked at the clock, which said it was time to go, and sighed. "It's bittersweet," he said. "On one hand, the good part is spending time with the boys. On the the other hand, it means leaving you."

"Since you bring it up," I said. "I had a thought about that." I told him that, while I understood his reservations about me meeting the kids, I didn't want to wait two more months.

On my last post, City Girl commented that it'd be a good idea to warm up to meeting the kids, "Would there be a way for him to incorporate you more into his world without meeting his kids? Baby steps (pun intended)." Then there's the advice of a friend of mine who's currently involved with a divorced dad, "Put off meeting the kids for as long as humanly possible. Don't get me wrong, I like my boyfriend's daughter, but... wait as long as you can."

It's sound advice on both fronts. Kids are big, why rush it? Take it slow, etc. However, for me, I'm looking at it kind of the other way around. I've already taken the plunge with Mr. Curls. The other milestones we've hit, the way I feel about him... it all adds up to me being committed to this relationship. It's gone past the point of wondering if I'll meet his kids and to the question of when. And, given my personality, a lot of times in these types of situations, I'd just as soon do it quicker than wait. My decision of when to have sex with Mr. Curls was based on the same kind of thinking. It's going to happen. It's right for it to happen. Let's just do it now.

Also, I like kids. I genuinely enjoy them. Just because I'm not chomping at the bit to push one of my own out through my lady bits doesn't mean I don't like them. I think it'd be fun for the four of us to all do things together. I'm having visions of mini golf and goofing around at the park, etc. I always liked babysitting, and this would kind of be like that - spend some time with the kids, then send them home. Perfect.

Put it all together, when I'd think of the idea of waiting, I'd ask, "What's the point?" I've accepted the idea that they're part of the Mr. Curls package deal, so let's get on with it. I know, I know, it seems over simplified. I swear I've thought about the complications as best I can without having gone through the experience before. I know it's not so easy. I just know that if I'm going to be dealing with it sooner or later, I'd just as soon do it sooner. No use putting it off.

So, I brought up the idea of me meeting the kids sooner than May. More like in two weeks when he has the boys again, or the two weeks after that. I told him he didn't have to decide right away, and he's thinking it over. Yesterday, on the phone, he said he'd talked to the boys about it. One of them asked, "But what if she's like the last one?"

"I really don't think she is," he said. I guess that satisfied them because when they were walking past the glow golf thing (indoor mini golf with black lights) at the mall later on, one of the boys said that's what we should do when they meet me. I take it as a good sign that me and the boys are already thinking alike.

I'm going to see Mr. Curls tonight after the boys have been picked up. I'm thinking that by tonight he may have decided on when would be a good time for me to meet them. It's intimidating, but in for a penny, in for a pound, right?

Another Offspring Conversation

Last night, while I was on the phone with Mr. Curls, the subject of his kids and me meeting them came up again. It started with him telling me about a conversation he had with one of his good friends who lives a couple hours away.

"He asked me when I'd bring you and the boys up to visit. I told him it wouldn't be for a while yet, that you and I are taking things slow."

He kind of hesitated, like he was gauging my reaction. Testing the idea, maybe? When we've talked about meeting the kids, Mr. Curls has said that sometime before the boys are on summer break was what he was thinking. I'm thinking summer break is still two months away. I'm thinking that two more months of Mr. Curls going MIA every time he has the boys for the weekend is not ideal.

I'm not saying I've got mommy cravings, but the idea of Mr. Curls being totally off limits just 'cause his kids are with him is something I'm over. Not that I want to meet the kids ASAP, but two more months seems long.

Part of it, too, might be that Mr. Curls has met my people. He's come with me to a few social gatherings with my people. He's getting to be part of my whole circle. Then, on his side, I went to the wedding. I didn't really get to talk to his people much, 'cause they were busy with the wedding, and the most I've really talked to anyone who's important to him is a handful of sentences. I know it's not a matter of him trying to keep me a secret, but it does seem like there's some hesitation on his part about me mixing too much with his people.

He said something about how he was worried that me meeting the boys might scare me off. He said it jokingly, but the joke was kind of forced. It's like he wants to keep me separate because he's worried that I'll only like him outside of his natural habitat or something. It's weird. Or, maybe it's the novelty of the new girlfriend? I'm all new and shiny, so I'm like the new hobby that's pulled him away from his routine and the socializing that went with it? I dunno. It could be something, it could be nothing, but either way, I think it merits a mention.

I've become invested in Mr. Curls. He's important enough to me that I like being a part of his life. Now, I want to be involved with the rest of the parts of his life.

Tempting Rejection

Since my teaching gig where I work is
a. part-time
b. not permanent
c. due to politics, less secure than I'd like

I've decided to contact the appropriate person at the local community college about the possibility of picking up a class or two there so I can have a backup and/or extra moolah. I've been procrastinating contacting this person because I'd essentially be doing a cold call while asking for a job. Ugh. I hate that.

But, better to contact her, get shut down, and KNOW, right? So, off goes the e-mail with the introduction of who I am and all that jazz. Off goes the CV. Then comes... what? A job or a rejection? I don't know which'd be worse, a quick reply or a slow one.

I do know that even one more class for fall semester would help with that whole repaying student loans thing. Damn student loans. After all these years of schooling and I've finally finished my MA just so I can do work that pays me less than I'd be making if I worked full time at McDonalds. Whoo-hoo! Education is so worth it!

Mom keeps telling me that I'll find a real job soon. She tells me I'll find not only a real job, but a really great real job. She can feel it in her bones, she says. Yet, every time I look at job listings, all I see are openings for nurses, sales people, or cleaners. Damn economy.

How terrible is it that I'm at a point where I think being a receptionist somewhere would be a really sweet gig?

Stress Dreams

I'm about to go to class, and part of me would rather play hookey. I wonder what my students would think of that? They'd be excited. They'd cheer me on. "Yes!" They'd cry, "Let's cancel class today!"

Last night I had a horrible dream. It was a work-related stress dream. In it, I was in class and all the students were misbehaving and I was yelling and it was terrible. I feel like I've already done my day's worth of teaching - more than, even. Ugh. Thanks subconscious.

The Envelope

Mom and dad are off to visit my brother for twelve days and they, mom in particular, wanted to see me before they headed to the airport. I stopped by on my way to campus and, along with just wanting to say bye, they also had something for me. Or, rather, something for me to give to Mr. Curls.

Mom handed me a bag of cookies, for me, and an envelope addressed to Mr. Curls.

"What's this?"

"Is your name on it?" Mom asked.

"No."

"Then you don't need to know, do you?" She winked.

Oh dear. Knowing my mom, it's a card that says something like, "It was nice to meet you." It's just a little weird, you know? I hope it doesn't freak Mr. Curls out. There's something stuffed inside the envelope along with the card, too, and my curiosity is killing me. A cookie, perhaps? I dunno. But, mom and Mr. Curls are exchanging correspondence now, it seems. Not sure what to make of that.

Bishop Castle

Mr. Curls and I are both native Coloradans. This means we should've known better than to plan a trip up to see Bishop Castle (Google it!) in March. We especially should've known better than to plan a picnic for said excursion. But, with the gorgeous run of weather we've had lately in the lower elevations, we forgot that the weather in town and the weather in the mountains are two different kettles of fish. As we drove higher and higher up the mountain in Mr. Curls' Jeep, the snow got deeper and deeper.

"Hmm..." he said.
"Indeed," I said.
"We didn't really think this through, did we?"
"Nope."
Then he reached over and turned up the heater to counterbalance the draft coming through the Jeep's battered rag top.

We finally arrived and, after a brief jaunt to check out the picnic area, we promptly decided to picnic in the Jeep instead. Then, after lunch, we bundled up and roamed the castle, pausing often so I could get pictures.



It may sound weird, but I'm kind of glad for the misadventure. In part, because it just makes a funnier story that way, and in part because I got to see how he reacted to things going awry. When plans go sideways, that's when you really get to know people. Most anyone can be pleasant when things are going smoothly, but, throw a wrench in, and sometimes people get all bent out of shape and unpleasant.

Happily, Mr. Curls just shrugged it off, made a couple jokes, then gave me a hug and went tromping around the castle with me like it wasn't cold and windy at all. Then he got into the whole picture idea and even used my camera to get a few shots of his own. I also got to see his rock climbing skills in action when he climbed up the wall on one of the staircases to get a photo. Though, when he started speculating about how he could scale the outer wall of the castle, I asked him to kindly not 'cause seeing him climbing that high without any gear would scare the crap out of me. He was nice enough not to traumatize me.

If you have a chance to check out the castle, I definitely recommend it. It's a one of a kind. However, I'd highly recommend waiting until May-ish to make the trip.

Sleeping Together, In the Unconscious Sense

For a while now, Mr. Curls and I have been circling the idea of a sleep over. Basically, he gets comfortable and drifts off, then I wake him up and send him home. One of the first nights this happened, he groggily said, "I'm tempted just to go set your alarm and climb back in bed."

"Not tonight," I said. "I'm not ready for that."

"Yeah? Why is that?"

"Two reasons. One, there are people who can fall asleep anywhere and I'm not one of them. I can have a hard time falling asleep, and it's easiest for me when everything is just so. Having you in bed with me would be something to adjust to." He nodded. "Two, being asleep means being totally helpless."

He got a look of concern then. "Are you worried I'll do something?" I had joked a few nights ago about pranking him if he fell asleep on my couch again. "I swear, I'd never do something to you when you're sleeping."

I laughed. "No, it's not that. It's me being worried that I'll do something embarrassing while I'm asleep. I don't even know whether or not I snore, for instance." The third part, which I'd mentioned in another sleeping conversation, had to do with the fact that being unconscious around someone is just about as intimate as you can get. For me, even more than sex, sleeping is about trust. At least during sex, there's a certain level of control/interactivity. Sleep is giving up control absolutely. Scary.

"Oh." He shrugged. "Well, since you fell asleep just a little the other night at my place, I already know you don't snore."

"Let me ask you this, then. I've said why it makes me nervous, but why do you like the idea so much?"

"Two things." He held up a finger. "One, I just think it's nice. Comfortable." He held up the other and grinned. "Two, I think I'd get more sleep."

Fast forward to Friday night. Mr. Curls came over to watch a movie, which we never quite got around to, on account of getting sidetracked. At a little past midnight, there we were, cuddled up in my bed, and he started to drift off. I laid there, debating what I wanted to do. Then I got up, turned off the light, got back in bed, and went to sleep.

I won't say it was the best night's sleep I've ever had. Having Mr. Curls in the bed screwed up my sleeping mojo and I woke a few times through the night and readjusted myself before I could fall asleep again. I will say I survived the experience. And, I will say that it was nice to wake up next to him in the early morning light and snuggle first thing.

There goes another milestone.

The Highlights Dilema

The highlights I got in December have grown out enough that I need to do some maintenance. Except, now I'm trying to decide if I want to keep the highlights as-is, do them over in a different way, or just get them dyed back to my own hair color. Also, I have to decide if I'm brave/broke enough to try to do whatever I decide on at home.

Hrm... hard choices. Does anyone have suggestions?

Sleep Deprivation

I've been tired a lot lately. It's all Mr. Curls' fault. Some nights I see him and we stay up late. Some nights I don't see him, so we talk on the phone until late. Since he gets up at four in the morning, he bears the brunt of the late nights, which makes me feel guilty. Then, I feel tired. Tired and guilty.

He thinks it's funny. One of his coworkers was threatening to call me while impersonating their boss and demand that I stop keeping Mr. Curls up late all the time.

Now I'm trying to grade papers to return to students, but I'm having a hard time focusing and all I can think of is how wonderful a nap would be. I'm calling Mr. Curls tonight when I get home from teaching, but I swear, it's going to be a short conversation. I admit I've said that before, like every time we talk on the phone, but tonight I mean it. Really. I swear.

Amanda's Turning Point

Sunday, before Mr. Curls met me to head over to my parents' for brunch, I got a call from Amanda.

"Hey," I said. "Where have you been? I kept trying to get a hold of you yesterday, and you didn't answer your phone, punk."

"Believe me," she said, "You wouldn't have wanted to talk to me yesterday anyway. I was in a really, really bad mood."

"I know, that's why I was trying to talk to you. You needed someone to talk to."

"I'm feeling better now."

"I'm glad. So, talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

We had a long talk and I did my best to be helpful and supportive. It's hard when all I've got to work with is a phone line. She's at a crossroads right now, trying to make a difficult decision, and even though she knows in her gut what she should do, it's scary to actually do it. Change is always scary, and this is one of those situations where it'd be a very hard change. But, I believe it'd be for the best and I hope she can be brave enough to do it. I'll certainly be behind her all the way.

"All the signs point toward it," she said.

"I know."

"But, there's so much I stand to lose."

"I'm not saying it'd be easy. I'm just saying, at this point, it may be the only thing that will make you happy in the long term. I want you to be happy. You deserve it, and you aren't right now. If you do this, you'll give yourself the chance."

"I don't believe you," she said, lightening the serious tone by using a joke we share.

"You never do. I'm used to it. It's okay, though, 'cause I've been right every other time you haven't believed me. I'm optimistic that, one day, you'll notice the pattern and actually trust me on something."

She laughed, "Don't hold your breath."

The Day Where Mr. Curls Meets... Everybody

Up to this point, Mr. Curls had met two of my friends. Then, on Sunday, he met just about everybody else who's important to me.

The first stop was brunch with my parents. He was a bit nervous, but I reassured him that it'd be fine. And, it was. They liked him, he liked them, and before long, they were getting along like it wasn't the first time they'd met. Since I was an easy target for getting picked on, they even had some common ground right away ;)

Once my mom had made sure Mr. Curls was well-fed, we were off to meet up with the big group of my writers' crew for dinner. We made a few stops in between to kill time between meals, then we met up with the gang. After the crew gave him the once over, especially the guys, they warmed up to him right away. He's good at getting along with people and it wasn't long before Mr. Curls was cracking a few jokes right along with everyone else.

On the drive home, Mr. Curls remarked, "Your parents, your friends, they act like they expect to see more of me."

"That's the plan."

He smiled. "I like that."

I was so glad that Mr. Curls hit it off with my parents and with my friends. The fact that they like each other is a good sign. I especially like the part where he wanted to meet them. The fact that when I brought up the idea of dinner, he was not just willing to go, but even excited, is important to me. He wants to know the people who're important to me.

Today, my parents came by to drop something off, and it didn't take them long to grill me.
"We didn't want to put him on the spot yesterday, but now we're going to put you on the spot," my dad said. "So... has he ever been married?"

I hesitated a moment, but since dad had asked me directly, I answered truthfully. A few more questions, and they were filled in on Mr. Curls' complications. They were thoughtful. Mom reminded me to be cautious.

"Yeah," I said. "We've talked about it all and we're taking things slow. If this is going to work out, we'll have plenty of time for things like me meeting his kids. No need to rush."

Mom nodded, reassured. "Good."

"He's more complicated that I would have hoped, but I really like him, and he's a good guy."

"Maybe we'll bring out the baby photos next time we see him," mom said, giving me a wink. So, my parents, like my friends, have their concerns, but they aren't telling me to run screaming.

"Something must be wrong with me," my dad said, "I actually like my daughter's boyfriend."