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*****
God, he drives slow. Amanda glanced at Dave from the passenger seat and made a face. Why hadn’t she noticed his annoying driving skills before? Just how blind had she been this past year? Fuck! I doubt he’s ever driven faster than 50mph.
“Do you ever drive faster than 50? People keep going around because you aren’t going fast enough.”
**The following story is true in its ENTIRETY as told to me. Names have been changed to protect the innocent and easily embarrassed. Stuff like this will probably not be a regular feature on this blog, but I thought it was something worth sharing. I hope you enjoy (and don’t grade me too harshly on punctuation) And don’t worry, I have obtained permission to share this. Also, the content is adult in nature. You’ve been warned!**
“Ooooo yeah… I’m so close…. ahhhhh….”
I hope he’s almost done, I’m hungry… Once again Amanda would go unsatisfied, she was beginning to think these things called orgasms just did not exist. As much as people talked about them, surely she should have had one by now. Fuck, she thought, this was about as fun as stapling my eyelids shut. Her mom told her it was supposed to get better, that when two people were together for the first time sometimes the “rhythm” was… off. If her count was correct (and it should be, since one isn’t inclined to forget less-than-stellar bedroom activities), this would mark the 7th time Dave has “made it” without bringing her along. Why do I even bother? If other people are having this kind of sex, why in the world are they so happy about it?
*The following is a rant long overdue. It’s devoid of humor and my usual lightheartedness, but for various reasons it needs to be said.*
I just want to be myself.
Whatever happened to accepting people just the way they are?
My mom was once described as the kind of person who made people feel instantly comfortable. Sure, she had her views on things, but she didn’t judge people. To this day, I feel I will never meet another soul like her (my husband being an obvious exception). It was her who allowed me to be myself, to voice my opinions, to offer my input, and to make my own decisions. While some parents chose to order for their kids in a restaurant, my mom always asked me what I wanted. Instead of just planning an outing, she always took my suggestions under advisement. She let me know early on what I had to say was important, and that I was worth listening to.
