aag

If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. You could also get new content delivered directly to your inbox. Thanks for stopping by!

In general, I abhor making mistakes.

At one a.m. my friend and I headed to bed. Tiredness wasn’t the issue. The flesh was weak (bruised, swollen, raw) from hours of previous play, even though the spirit was still willing. Very willing.

There was no clock in the room, so we agreed upon a time (8:45 a.m.) and set the alarm on my cell phone, which (pay attention now) is the alarm I use every day—not that I really need an alarm with a house full of children.

So we talked, and kissed, and did other mushy things until finally we fell asleep. And in mere moments, so it seemed, the alarm woke us up.

I shut off the alarm without opening my eyes then snuggled against my friend’s back. Before long we were back at it, weak flesh and all.

It seemed like hours later when broke apart again, as it does when you’re lost in that beautiful little world. “What time is it?” he asked. We had brunch plans that morning and neither of us wanted to be late (again)—and then heckled (again).

As I’d set the alarm for 8:45 a.m., I expected the clock to show me a time dangerously close to 10 a.m.

Was it close to 10 a.m.?

It was not.

It was 7:15 a.m.

I’d set an alarm for 8:45 a.m., but failed to turn off my usual early-morning, get-up-children, make-breakfast, drive-to-school alarm. We’d gotten up at my normal time. We had hours before brunch!

We could have taken a nap then. We could have showered. We could have read the Sunday papers. We could have bleedin’ gone to church. But no. We kept on doing what we’d been doing, and we kept on doing it for so long that our friends eventually had to bang on the door to get us up, then wait for us to shower before we could all go to brunch.

I really hate making a mistake—but a mistake that nets me hours more sex? That kind of mistake I don’t so much mind.