“I love shower sex, because I love getting shoved against the wall!”
The blank spaces on the post below are a pretty solid testament as to why I can never answer him when he asks me what I am thinking. Writer’s brain is a tough disease to cure.
I did a lot of writing today, and I wanted to post it up for your insane reading pleasure but I realized I would have to basically re-write the whole thing to make it appropriate. So I have decided to censor myself and give you a mildly more PC version of the writing I did today:
Wow the past few days have been a bit crazy, at least for someone like me. On Saturday night I couldn’t sleep for some reason, maybe because I was nervous about Sunday. ATCB took me to a Red Sox game. I was kind of nervous about the whole experience, something most around me couldn’t understand. I just decided to look at the experience as an anthropological experiment and try to enjoy myself.
I actually had quite a lot of fun. Well, for a baseball game. I got all dressed up in my version of sports fan clothing, it was quite the sight. The weather was miserable but ATCB was so excited that I decided to just put on a ridiculously cheery smile and try and go with it. I did an alright job of my act of happy-sports fan-bullshit until we were inside the crowd of people. I was so over stimulated that, as I expected, I instantly went into my pod. The whole screaming cheering clapping charade is just not in my nature, save when I — —————————————————————————————————————————
However, ATCB’s review of the situation was
So I just sort of instantly shut down ————————————————————————arch nemesis of food- ——————————————————————–. I refused to eat, but he force fed me French fries. I became ————————————————————————————. So I ——————————–not drinking beer. Woo-fucking-hoo. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay baseball!
So I said earlier to Nicole,
“————————————————, I am dragging his ass to a chick flick. I don’t even like chick flicks.”
So we leave the game and we venture over to Hungry mother to get some delicious comfort food. I loved it. The bartender was totally adorable, I wanted to stick him in my pocket and take him home with me. Plus I got to have my favorite beer(Pretty Things American Darling). I tried a few new foods and pretty much everything I had was delicious. Except the one bite I had of ATCB’s pork thing which can follow hot dogs into the list of foods that are just not for me.
So I became aggressively over full and began to think —————————————————————————————————————————-. It was a very good very bad decision. —————————————————————————————————————————————————– permanently none-the wiser.
Oh, did I mention at some point during this evening I found myself————————————? What?! WHY?!WHY CAN’T I JUST SHUT UP?! Evidently if I start talking long enough all of the lies I tell myself start coming out and I find myself in incredibly awkward positions having a very lazy panic attack.
So he seemed like he ———————————- at Hungry Mother, and I let the conversation continue when we got home and he was making tea. At that point I was ————– I considered just ———————————–. I am such a —————-.
It seems like a good idea at first. ———————————,————————-. Plus, my life has been going a lot of crazy places and I am ready for some stability. Evidently ——————————————————–invitation to———————————————————–. All. The. Time.
So we get back to his place and I’m thinking “—————————————————.” So ATCB, ignoring the incredibly cute pseudo sports fan lying on his couch, decides to make tea. This—————-, becomes —————–. It seems his roommates had drank his tea so he had to choose. He considered drinking yerba mate tea but made me look it up because he was afraid to be caffeinated. The whole time I was just thinking “You really don’t ——————————————–?” as I plotted out whether I would rather pay to see Eat, Pray, Love or rent The Notebook. Did I mention I was going on an hour of sleep and had been awake since 4 a.m. on Saturday morning…and it was now 12 a.m. on Monday morning. Suck it up ——, —————- and ————like a man. A ———-, ———- man.
So after ———————————————–grin and says, “————————————.”
And I’m thinking,
“Really?! You haven’t seen anything yet.”
I probably should have realized then that ———————————————————————————————–vanilla ——————————————————. Suddenly the baseball game was looking pretty exciting.
Waking up next to him is fantastic. It definitely falls into my top ten list of the best feelings in the world. Which I will attempt to write down now:
1. The first time I get the feeling in the pit of my stomach that autumn is coming.
2. Taking off in an airplane.
3. Cracking open a brand new journal.
4. Taking an unnecessarily long hot shower just to relax.
5. Coming up with a fantastic line at 3 in the morning and actually getting up to write it down.
6. Waking up in another country.
7. The fourth or fifth sip of coffee, when you are just beginning to wake up and truly experience the taste.
8. Eating lentils and rice.
9. Finding presents waiting for you.
10. Waking up next to the person you are falling for.
That’s my rough edit, I’m sure there are some very important things being left off. Such as anything to do with chocolate, finishing a big project, and reading letters.
The next night we basically stayed in bed all day being incredibly productive (a.k.a cuddling and staring into each other’s eyes). Please excuse me while I vomit. We then went to dinner with Jen and Chris at Toro which was delicious and also involved me trying a lot of new things. The wine ATCB picked was really delicious and like nothing I had ever tasted before, just sort of…sexy? Yes, that’s the word I’m looking for. It’s nothing that from its description I would have expected to like but I find myself quite enjoying it and sad when it was gone. Chris tried to get us to go to a show but we ended up heading home. We hung out with his sister, who is really fucking adorable. We drank a chocolate stout that was made with nibs from the chocolate company she works for. All the chocolate talk was making me so hungry. Torturous.
So I get myself some —————————————’ and I begin to panic that I ————————————–. He is just ————————————. He ————————– desired. I just want to yell, “—————, kiss me ————-!” I am worried that I won’t be able to behave myself ——————-. Also, ———————, —————– all the time. Is that so much to ask? I wish there was some proper way to tell him that ————————————-, well, —————. This is the first time sex —————-. My —————————————————– and I really don’t want to go through that again. I don’t know what to do. I really like him. Fuck.
So I had been wondering this whole time why —————————-. Not that I even particularly want it, but the fact ———————was starting to make me wonder. When —————————————————. This whole ————————— is really starting to ————————-.
Speaking of things that really bother me, ————————. I mean, I just ——————————————— but I’m mature enough ——————–. When I finally —————————— he said something along the lines of “——————————————.”
I just said,
It was definitely one of those moments, and it set off a severe case of writer’s brain. He just seems like a nice guy ——————————————–. His ————–is going to end up hurting me indirectly.
———————————————————————————————. I don’t know what to do. He makes me really happy —————————————————————–. I don’t know what to do, I guess I’m just waiting to see how I feel tomorrow when the rain isn’t getting me down.