Isn't it ALWAYS Bad Timing?

Things with Mr. Curls have been getting more physical and I've been doing a gut check on whether or not I'm ready to sleep with him. He's not in a rush and neither am I, but I was thinking that today would be a good day for the ever-so-indelicate STDs talk. I was thinking that, maybe after that talk, depending, today might be the right day to break my long-term celibacy.

No, it's not because it's Valentine's Day. Honest-to-Bob. It's pure timeline of how long we've been seeing each other and an indicator of having hit certain important mile markers that make me feel ready for being all the way physical. Last night I changed my sheets. This morning, I had a stress dream about having sex with him. It's been a long time since I've been in the sack with anybody, and I've only ever slept with one person before, so yeah, I'm a bit nervous.

Anyhow, I've been getting myself geared up. Then, wouldn't you know it, this morning I noticed the tell tale signs of my oncoming period. Stupid uterus. I don't want to have my period right now. Having sex with Mr. Curls for the first time is plenty to deal with all on its own, the last thing I need to worry about on top of that is blood coming out of my crotch. I don't mind period sex, but I absolutely don't want that to be the first type of sex I have with him. F*ing period.

Just Call Me Chicken

I went out with M., lady of the unrequited love, last night. We went to the bar where Bartender Guy works, and when she started to hint that she'd rather go somewhere else, a la, "This band's okay, but not worth the cover charge," I confessed.

"I like the band okay, but my real reason for wanting to come is the guy who took our cash at the door."

"Really?" She turned to look. She nodded appreciatively. Then she said, "The part I don't get is why, if you came here for a crush, you're sitting with your back to him," she pointed to the opposite seat of the booth, "instead of where you can look at him."

"Um..."

"Not to mention why haven't you gone over and talked to him?"

I probably blushed at that point. Then she laughed hysterically and called me a chickenshit.

I sighed. "I'm bad at this, at boys."

The best I managed was a quick exchange with him on the way out along the lines of, "Going already?" on his part and, "Yeah, but the band is fun" on mine.

Yup, he'll fall in love with me for sure now.

Omission

I went over to my folks' house yesterday to hang out with my mom, brother and brother's new girlfriend. While we were all in the kitchen my mom glanced down at my bare feet.

Mom: Ew, why are your nails painted green?

I hesitated a moment. I could tell her that Amanda made me do it, but that would lead to a whole explanation of what I'm doing and why. There, in front of mom, my brother, and the girlfriend, I just didn't want to get into it.

Me: Because I painted them green, that's why.

My mom and I are on pretty good terms these days, but I just don't think she would understand what I'm doing and why. I can see it in my head, I would try to explain it, and she would say, "But, why?" She might think I was having some kind of crisis, or just outright losing my mind. I don't know, but I can't possibly imagine her just nodding and saying, "Huh, sounds interesting." No, she'd want details, an in-depth explanation. Justification.

No thanks, I'll pass.

F*ing Nail Polish

I painted my toes yesterday. Went with a minty green.

This morning, in my just-woke-up fog, I realized I didn't have matching socks. Thought, "No problem, sandals it is." I slid my feet into my sandals in the dark.

Then I got to work and happened to glance down. Minty green toenails on display for all to see. Damnit.