July 23, 2003
Bathtub Buddy
When I let go I am so much happier, but for some reason my fingers stay locked on whatever is making me miserable.
Except not tonight.
Alison and I had an excellent time where I ordered more frappachino than I should. We chatted about the cutest boys and everyone else that made us suck in our breath and proclaim: "I LOVE him!"
For some reason everyone in Starbucks tonight (yes I am corporate) felt especially friendly towards everyone else. Somehow some of the people were talking about pick-up lines, then one guy asked Alison and I something. I do not remember what exactly but it was discovered we went to high school. Then he asked us what the worst pick-up line we'd ever heard was.
"They're in high school, they don't go to bars, they haven't heard the really bad ones yet. They don't know that whole bar scene," one guy to our right said.
Still we tried to come up with some pick up lines. I will keep you posted if either of us have particularly exciting times with all of that. As nice as their friendliness was I found myself pressing my hands on the couch cushions and holding my arms pencil-straight the way I do when I am extremely uncomfortable and increasingly anxious to leave. The position I assume can best be communicated as "I want to leave but I do not know how to do it gracefully. As soon as I figure out how I will press down a little harder to get up and go away."
Gracefully getting away turned into going to Barnes and Noble. Alison and I decided that the people who work there had been eavesdropping on us for months, discovered our great distaste for lines journals, and promptly stocked the shelves with journals that would be to our liking. Barnes and Noble realized the valuable business they were losing and thus they changed their ways.
Or they just got a new buyer. Whatever.
Alison became absorbed in the book Slut because she tends to be drawn to the women's studies and I soon found myself sitting on the floor in my skirt, ever the lady, chuckling while reading Michael Moore's Stupid White Men. We took turns reading particularly enchanting, awe-inspiring, or humorous passages to each other.
I could spend years in a bookstore, wandering from shelf to shelf.
I bid Alison an adieu/see ya later this week, then went off to Danny's house.
Ohh, Danny and I are fun. Or so I think.
He updated me on his conquests past and present and everything else that had happened since I last talked to him, then he tried to convince me to go back to my house to jump on my trampoline with the sprinkler on. I just was not feeling it, though, so when Danny suggested we take a bath together I readily agreed.
We put our swimsuits on (I am not that fun, though I will not speak for Danny) and climbed in the tub. Even though Danny lit a candle to make the whole thing less of a Ernie and his rubber ducky moment, we acted like little kids soon enough. There was lots of splashing and showerheads directed towards my face. It sounds less fun as I write about it, but the whole time I was sitting in the tub all I could think about was how I wanted to do this more and with more people, but Danny was the only person I could think of that was really suitable for such an activity.
Gay pals have to be good for something, right?
Danny is good for many things, but tonight I learned he is a new purpose: bathtub buddy. And what a bathtub buddy he is...
Love,
Mandy
There is another update for today here if you care to read it or not miss it.