I'm a Big Girl Now

I had a date with Daniel. On Monday, despite my avowed hatred of IM, I had, again, ended up online with him for a bit. And I said, Two things: One. I’d really like to see you on a weekend night, cause I’d like to spend a lazy morning with you. And two, the weekend is a long way from now.

Daniel can take a hint, and said, Well, let’s get together tomorrow and on Friday. Ha!

We were fooling around in my room when I heard a shriek. It was Jenny. We were half dressed. I figured she had seen another roach. I am on a tough love drive regarding Jenny and the kitchen: dirty protest! I’m sick of constantly taking out the garbage. She can do it. Maybe I’m not the only one who takes out the garbage, or cleans the kitchen sink of vegetable peelings. But it certainly does feel that way sometimes. Anyway.

A minute later there was a knock on the bedroom door. I opened it.

“There’s a cockroach,” Jenny said. “Please?”

“Daniel!” I called. Just like he was my boyfriend. My non-boyfriend good-naturedly took care of the problem. Jenny was wearing a tee-shirt and super-short shorts, and I wondered if Daniel found her attractive.

“Thank you,” I said when we’d repaired to my room, the insect crisis averted. “For that you get the sex act of your choice. Within reason,” I amended.

We were fooling around, talking and kissing, when he interrupted me: “I’m going to suck on your tits,” he announced, and bent his head to my breast.

It was the matter-of-factness that did me in. I got wet.

We fucked and it was lovely. Being with Daniel is so sweet, and the terrible undercurrent I feel, that it’s dangerous for me to see him, has abated.

“What kind of vibrator do you use?”

“I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have a vibrator?!”

“Nuh uh.”

“How do you masturbate?”

“I use my hand.” I’m very low tech.

We were cuddling and nattering away when he said something and I thought, “Can’t he be qui-” and it hit me: Hey! Daniel is not perfect, and he’s not the perfect man for me. He’s nice, and sexy, and cute and smart and lovely, but it’s not the end all and be all if I’m with him. This was compounded by the fact that he soon brought out this idiotic computer game thingy he has (sort of like a PSP, but not) and began playing it. It is a remarkably stupid Japanese game which plays pop songs that the gamer has to tap out the beat to in order to win. Listening to him concentrate on that game I thought, God, can’t you turn that thing off? Then: Hey. I’m a big girl. I can do this. And I believed it.