ThisMorning {over it}

18 Aug

I don’t know why I thought this time would be any different. I came to 30-Something’s with the intention of hanging out, getting some work done and then going to bed. Before I agreed to go over there, I hit him with two disclaimers: 1) it was that time of the month, so I couldn’t have “fun time” {his stupid phrase, not mine} and 2) I had just taken a couple of hits, so I was a little high.

By the time he picked me up, I realized I was too stoned to do anything but talk and eat. I would do my work in the morning, which is probably what gave him the wrong idea.

Now one interesting thing about me when I’m high–and maybe it’s true for most people–is that I become super honest and somewhat easily annoyed. I can usually go with the flow, but if something starts nagging my brain, and messing with my high, I can get a little testy.

So that’s why if we had stayed at his counter eating crackers with brie and fig jam and drinking wine, things probably would’ve been better. And even if he had given me a neck and shoulder massage in the livingroom, things probably would’ve been fine. But when he said he wasn’t trying to “get me in bed” but that the massage would be easier in the bedroom, I believed him. And I guess that’s where I got the wrong idea… the idea that he would actually respect what I said about having my “lady time” and what I said about not wanting to fool around.

But instead, when the massage seemed to be focusing on my boobs, I knew I was wrong. It was then that the slow, wet kissing started, the kind that is supposed to be “sexy” in some sort of slow-motion world; in my world it just grosses me out and annoys me. I knew I was in trouble.

Sure enough, then came the awkward middle school hand pushing… down, down, down to his crotch. And that, my friends, is when my high self had had enough.

I pull my hand away.
Ummm yeah. I’m just really not in the mood. I told you I wouldn’t be able to mess around.
He pushes my hand back down.
So you can’t do anything at all?
I fumble around down there for a second and then pull my hand away again.
I’m just not feeling well, I guess.
So, you’re really not in the mood… at all?
No.

When he got back into bed from the shower, I apologized, but I didn’t really mean it. When we both retreated to “our sides” of the bed, I was relieved. I woke up at 6am, after only a couple of hours of uncomfortable sleep, to do the work I meant to do the night before. When I finished, I showered and got dressed in the bathroom making sure not to wake him up.

Then I slipped into his room and as I was putting on my jewelry he opened his eyes. When he asked if I was going to work early, I nodded and kissed him on his shaved head. I told him goodbye–knowing that this time, I really meant it.

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