C's Birthday

Tonight was C's birthday. I met him out for some drinks after my evening class, and... damn... we had some fun times. Between Sweet Georgia Brown, Take On Me, and various other 80s dance songs, we had a fabulous time. Even while hanging out with a former barback that admitted to not having had sex since the 90s... (I mean really... who hasn't had sex since the 90s?!?!?)...

So I'm off to bed... curling up with my fabulous pillows...

My pussy.

I'm seriously considering getting a cat.

I *knew* there had to be a reason.

I. Feel. Vindicated.

Y'all know that I'm rather... um... sexual. I like to have sex. I'm very positive when it comes to others having sex as well. I've stated previously how much I idolize Sue Johanson, the wonderful Canadian grandmother that wants to help people have great sex.

And with great reason. Apparently sex has positive impacts upon your health.

Now I understand why I was told tonight that I looked so much younger than my 32 years.

What the hell?

This morning I had an experience. Something that I haven't experienced in, oh a good number of years.

I was brushing my teeth. My tongue, to be precise. And... um... I gagged slightly. What the hell is that about? I haven't experienced my gag reflex since... hell I can't remember.

Two weeks. Brit Boy has been gone two weeks and already I'm losing my skills.

The wiley-ness of it all.

Brit Boy is gone. After having spent the last two months together, he's off to follow summer around the globe. Having him go has been rather challenging for me, but I know he needs to do this. He needs to venture forth and explore. I just have to wait until August for his return.

But I must say this... I think the universe knows I'm having trouble with him being gone. Cuz it's having a bit of fun with me.

Within 36 hours of Brit Boy boarding a plane and leaving the country, I was contacted by Shot Guy (remember him?) and Buddha Boy (not sure if I've talking about him) with a desire to "reconnect." I guess even though our little liaisons were of short duration, there remains something that is drawing them back for a little bit more.

My bed didn't even get cold before temptation started knocking. Luckily, my front door has this great little invention installed on it. It's called a lock. And I'm using it to keep temptation out.

Sorry fellas... the only reconnecting I'm doing these days is with the several DVDs of The West Wing I got for Christmas.

Well that... and my right hand. *grin*

Photo credit: "Leaving Station" by Paul Prober

And then he's gone.

We spend a lifetime putting up walls. With every tremor, every earthquake, they grow taller, more impenetrable.

Experience teaches us to be careful of people and Trojan horses.

With time we come to depend on these walls, rely on their protection. Until one day a boy walks by, touches the stone. The walls come tumbling down.

And then... the boy that you become so accustomed to having around. The boy whose arms you fell asleep in every night. Is gone. He promises to return. You know he will. But it doesn't make walking into that empty house any more comfortable. It doesn't make falling asleep in that empty bed any easier.

Soon it's simply your own tears that comfort you as you cuddle the cold pillows and burrow under the covers.

DAMN!!!!

This being the beginning of a new year, the gyms are packed with people. People that are trying to turn over a new leaf fitness-wise. People that may not have any experience in the gym. And because they're trying out a lot of new things in the gym, they come to my classes.

This past weekend I had over 50 people in each of my classes. It was so crowded I couldn't move around class and help with adjustments and modifications like I normally do. So I was forced to actually take my own class.

And let me tell you, it's been a while since I've taken my own class.

The next day... I. Was. So. Sore.

Damn my class is hard.

It's like cool... and stuff...

S.C.U.B.A.

I learned from Jo on The Facts of Life that this means "self-contained underwater breathing apparatus." Last night I learned that breathing underwater is freakin cool. And a little scary.

I mean, we spent a good three hours learning the basics on diving, the equipment, and even how to put it together. But taking that first breath when you're completely submerged underwater... it's kinda freaky. I wasn't all bug-eyed as in "OMG I'm breathing underwater.... WTF!?!?!" But I definitely had a tiny fear that after I finished my exhale, I wouldn't have any air to breathe in. Not that it really mattered when I was sitting at the bottom of a 4' deep pool.

Did she not notice my track lighting?

I love my mom. No really, I do. I'm being serious. (Hey... I have to remind myself sometimes). Remember how my mom used to try to set me up with any female around my age that just talked to me? Well, after Latex and I broke up, things got better. You may recall that she seemed to finally understand that it was not members of the opposite sex that sent my heart beating rapidly.

Or so I thought.

As I'm sitting in the Kansas City airport chatting amiably with my mom about what a nice holiday visit we've had, we both started to watch the antics of some unruly seven year-old boy. He's running around, looking for attention, with mom, grandmother, and grandfather trying to get him to behave. This is when my mom just drops the bomb.

"You need to have children soon. You need to have them to complete your life."

I try to tell her that I'm pretty ambivalent about having children, and that I really don't need to have children to complete my life. I then go on this thing about "if" I decide that I'd like children, I'd want to have a partner, and I'm just not at that stage with anyone right now. The relationships I've had with the Marks, Ricks, and Steves in my life just really didn't go the "lets start a family" route.

"Well, Cary, you never know. You could be waiting for the right Judy to come along in your life."

Really? Really.

Really??

Grrrr...

Eight flights over a two week period. Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Texas, Las Vegas, California, and back to Texas. Out of eight flights, one... yes... only one, was on time.

And no, it wasn't my final flight home. That one was almost 3 1/2 hours late arriving.

American Airlines... I am so not fond of you right now.