Saturday, December 19, 2009

Potty Talk.

When I moved out, I knew I needed an apartment with two bathrooms. Having shared a bathroom with two boys for years, I knew that one thing that would be lovely for me would be to have a bathroom of my own. And nobody else would get to pee in it.

CF totally understood. "Yes, I can totally have sex with a guy in my bed, but he can't pee in my bathroom." Uh-uh. The bathroom is mine.

I remember when I was thinking the day would come when I might have sex with Leon... And I kept telling myself I needed to clean my bathroom. Because if I had sex with him, he'd probably stay over and stuff. And I hadn't let anyone stay over. Uh-uh. I have been a "have my way with them and kick them OUT" kind of gal lately.

When I thought Leon would be picking me up from the airport, I was overwhelmed with the idea that I needed to make sure to clean my bathroom before I left town.

But then I didn't. And I told myself that I would make sure I wouldn't invite him to stay if I didn't have a clean (enough) bathroom.

Apparently, that was my little passive-aggressive way to keep me from letting anyone stay. To keep me from letting anyone get close enough to me. I think the clean bathroom almost became a metaphor for my love life.

I had a good excuse in November. I was noveling. I may have vacuumed once during that month. And that's pretty much it. Dishes piled up, laundry too. It's the nature of the beast that is NaNoWriMo.

As soon as December hit, I caught up on the housework. But only the very basic cleaning in the bathroom. Very basic. Certainly not "let someone else go in there" worthy.

The first time the 23-year-old came over, he went off to my bathroom to clean up. And I was pretty close to having a panic attack. Not kidding. Hated the idea of a boy peeing in my bathroom. That was MY space. He didn't belong there. He could put his penis in my vagina, but was NOT allowed to pee in my toilet. I directed him to the other bathroom the next time. And the brat still tried to make a break for my bathroom on another occasion. I did not allow this.

So, CJ and I had the talk I had decided it was time for. And he answered all of my questions... And then asked me some really good questions. Hard questions. Questions that made me think. And didn't hold a single answer against me. Totally respectful. Asked me if we ended up having sex if I was willing to date him and see where it could go. Or if I wanted no strings attached.

And shockingly, I realized I am open to seeing where it will go. While I'm not ready to be "all in" and be his girlfriend, I'm actually open to moving forward cautiously, but with my heart and eyes wide open.


And he asked me out. For Saturday night. And wants to take me someplace that I have always wanted to go. But I haven't. We had already established a date for Thursday. And I thought we would go there then. But he said he wanted to make it Saturday, but still wanted to see me Thursday. And I was flattered and touched.

I cried on the way to work the next day. Because I felt happy. I imagined being out with him on Saturday night, enjoying where we would be, looking at him and being so grateful that he is the one that brought me to that place... And the tears spilled over. I hope I don't actually cry when we're actually there. LOL.

And we're in pretty regular communication. He's not afraid to let me know that he's thinking about me. And he's not afraid to step back and let me do my thing. I am not quite sure how to deal with that. I like it a lot, but it's so unfamiliar to me.

Okay, I wrote that last sentence and my eyes filled with tears. How sad that it's unfamiliar to me for someone to be attracted to me, want to be with me, and yet unafraid to let me kick ass like I do.

Huh. I did not give CJ enough credit.

And we did go out on Thursday. And he got me pretty hot and bothered, but sent me home alone because he didn't want to pass his cold along to me. As we were hugging and (not) kissing outside my car that night, we heard my phone indicate a text. Which I ignored until I got in the car to head home.

Of course it was 23-year-old. Making it clear what he was hoping would happen later.

And I shut it down.

Even though I was desperately aroused. And while I thought I was pretty clear about our little thing being over, apparently it takes a bit longer for this kid to "get it". I tried to be sensitive (yes, okay, perhaps he did have some actual feelings for me. Oops!), but I didn't give in. Even though I'd started drinking Cabernet.

I'm actually giving this loyalty thing a try. Holy wow.

And then it was Friday night. And I did the usual Friday night thing. Hanging out with the Ex and the Kidlet and a small group of friends. Got to snuggle the kidlet and enjoy him.

And then I came home. Dragged all of my purchases up the stairs, while on the phone with CJ. We ended our conversation because I had "things to do".

And what I had to do?

Clean the bathroom.

And I did.


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