Whoops

Once upon a time I sexed. *snort*

Actually, it was just a few hours ago.  I met a woman at her house.  A hard to find house nestled in the common anonymity that is suburbia.  I am glad she hosted, I wanted to meet her dogs.

The dogs were everything I hoped for.

We talked and wined, talked some more and I wondered how could I make a move if she is all the way the fuck on the other side of the couch.  Then I noticed each time she got up, bathroom, more wine, let dogs in or out, she slooooowly moved closer.  So I played the mirror game.

Eventually, within arm's reach (finally!) she lolls her head on the back of the couch and asks "So, uh...want to watch a movie?"

My brain goes "The fuckshit is that?"  I am not even coherent enough to add a What to that thought.  I shake my head no and crook my finger at her.

It worked....well goddamn.  Put that move in my back pocket.

Later is later is dental dam.  Useful little buggers when they don't try to suffocate you.  Wildly snapping hips and dental dam up your nose is definitely a great way to get your heart rate going.  My points on my fuelband didn't really reflect it though.  I should write Nike a note.  I have found a wide open issue, and they need to fix it.

I get dressed and option not to go with the bra.  It gets shoved into my purse.  Away I go to home, to shower and snuggle into bed.

Hunger hits me halfway home.  I stop at a Denny's.  I want a salad and coffee.  I have a new book of essays to indulge in so I pull that puppy out and bury my nose.  Two essays, one cup of coffee later, I realize I am not wearing a bra in public and yes, it is obvious.  Mostly because I neglected to notice that when I pulled out the book, I pulled out half the bra.  Black lace and beige hanging out next to me.

Whoops