I miss waking up with friends, or the occasional good-looking stranger. Spending the morning trying to piece together the previous night. Getting Burritos. Giggling.
Shit, I miss just having friends.
One of the downfalls about my new housing arrangement is that you can look from the street directly into my bathroom.
This completely rules out peeing with the door opening. Let alone any other bathroom shenanigans I want to get into. Examples include but are not limited to face masks, strange creams to remove facial hair, doing my make up in the nude. I work to hard not to be able to pee with the goddamn door open in my own home!
You know I mean? You do don’t you. Thanks.
Yesterday I took an Intro to Burlesque class with a friend. Overall an empowering, body positive experience.
The group was comprised of ladies all ages, shapes and sizes. To get started we went around and said a few words about why we picked this class. The last lady said she wanted to feel less silly in the bedroom. As someone who has always wanted to own lingerie but has never had the balls, or shall I say Brazilian waxed vagina, this resinated. I can’t imagine surprisingly the man in my life by ’ slipping into something more comfortable ’ . Once standing there exposed, stretch marks and cellulite, what than? I’m ravish? I bite the my finger tip? Really Though ! Somehow this going smoothly has never felt like an option in my life.
In class I overheard a older lady mention to a friend that hoped this would ignite a few sparks in the marriage. She followed this up by saying she thought she had a few more good years left in her. The odd part was that I got that, I feel that same way, half this women’s age, unmarried. A large women unassociated with the mentioned exchange, wearing the fucking hottest set of lingerie, pipped in ” Honey, you’re a women. You’ve always got it.”
Perhaps I should send out the search party.
That morning I’d lost my bike wheel. I was so goddamn hung over that I had simply forgotten to put it in the car with the rest of the bike.
So there I am, scrambling around town trying to get a bike wheel for our ride. Did I ever tell you that? With little time to spare I completed this task and made it to your house.
I remember being terrified riding through downtown. I had failed to mention my bike skills rivaled that of a small child, but without the help of training wheels. I labored up small hills no thanks to the gears I had no idea how to work. All the while you smiled and mentioned nothing of my inexpertise. How absolutely sweet of you.
We made it to our destination. A picturesque, secluded area by the river, and cracked PBRs. You talked, I mostly listened and smiled all the while thinking you were way out of my league. As luck would have it you weren’t, or at least you thought you weren’t and this would be our first bike ride of many.
When I’m feeling particularly nostalgic I like to think about a similar ride we took. I remember it was late – riding home from dancing. We stopped to lie around on the dock. I remember us whimsing about marriage and me saying something to the effect of “I do”. Really, I don’t think this was whimsy at the time.
Now, I can’t imagine being out that late dancing on a weeknight. I would not stop to admire the night sky because I’d be too concerned with getting home at a reasonable hour. In all the pictures I have of our time together I have this big smile on my face. Not that generic smile I have on my face in all the other pictures that catalog my lifetime. But this big, genuinely happy grin. It makes me both smile and bring tears to my eyes to reflect on this now.
I can’t wait to see your band play..and see you! I hope your able to get a drink. you’re MORE THEN WELCOME to stay with me . I will say I am pretty boring during the week but I’d be happy to have you.
I hope you’re well!
Today I was walking around the house holding an otter-pop to my face. Andrew takes one look at me and says ” Baby did you burn your mustache off again? ” .
And thus, the evolution of love.
Buns have come back in style…why? Always one to adhere to new tends I thought – what the hell I’ll give it a go. I got of the shower, hair wet, and combed it all out. I stared to put it up. Bumps.Everywhere. So I got a smaller comb and started this agonizing process again to little avail. My arms started to hurt, ach even. I could just not get it up.
It was then I remembered sitting down with you as you worked tirelessly to get my hair into those ponytails. An arsenal of products; comb, detangler, spray water bottle. But most of your expertise and patients. Thank you for always taking care of me. I love you mom.