What if you already knew?

Oct 312010
 

From my own past, and as a parent to a 12 year old girl, a 10 year old boy and a 4 year old boy, I’ve learned that it is so much better for kids to have access to information before they need it. Not just basic things they should know about, but those things that might or might not happen… “What if” questions that get you thinking about what you would do in a particular situation. I didn’t experience this growing up… no one ever asked me: What if the girl next door kisses you while you’re playing house? What if someone touches you inappropriately? What if you’re being bullied? What if you saw something on TV that felt like you probably shouldn’t be seeing it but nobody is talking about it? What if you find naked pictures in your parent’s room? What if you realize by a choice that you made, you’ve now put yourself in a compromising position and you’re not sure what to do? What if your boyfriend/girlfriend wants to sext with you?

So, as each of those scenarios came into my life I was forced to deal with them with the limited experience I had gained up to that point… I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up and not much parental supervision. I was working full-time by the time I was a senior in high school. Looking back I know I grew up too fast. I know it could not have been another way though, because everyone did the best they could with what they knew. So when I became a parent, I decided I wanted my kids to know more than I did, for them to be better prepared. To know and contemplate the emotional consequences of sex, how to avoid being in a situation that increase your chances of being assaulted, why some girls have sex earlier than others, why it’s ok to take your time being a kid…

I never had this, so I pledged to give it to my children. Times are different and information about pregnancy, safe sex, diseases, even abortion is more accessible… but life is complicated. Two girls the same age can be ready for different things at different times and if a girl is ready to learn about sex and there is no appropriate teacher, her risk of experiencing negative things connected to self-esteem, boundaries, poor judgment, emotional issues is so much higher than if she just knew a little more going into it…

Wouldn’t it be great if before you even had sex you had an arsenal of information about things that may affect you besides ‘getting pregnant’? To have already learned something about those scenarios without having to experience them first-hand? Or if you already experienced them to know that you’re not alone? That’s where I see Scarleteen. It’s not just a site where you can learn the mechanics of sexual positions but it’s a rich storing house of information that everyone should know. Really everyone? Yes. It’s so good to be prepared, especially if the information is interesting. I looked at the blog roll on Scarleteen and wished I could go back in time and read the entries before I was faced with those particular scenarios head on. Most of my hardest life lessons came from figuring out on my own (and in therapy, I won’t lie) many things that I now see discussed on Scarleteen.

So turn yourself into a “What if” person. What if my best friend comes on to me? What if I find out my boyfriend likes boys? What if I find out my bestfriend sent a sext to someone and now it’s going around? What if I think my brother is gay but he’s not admitting it? What if I think my sister is being abused? What if I see someone getting bullied, what do I do?

Concocting scenarios like this and thinking about what you would do, helps you shape the person that you’ll grow into. Being informed is your best weapon against being taken by surprise and feeling helpless, alone and unsure of what to do in that very moment. Be curious. Ask questions. Grow.

Dawn Tulman is the president of ToiBocks, Inc. providing discreet storage solutions to protect your privacy. She lives outside LA with her three really great kids, considers environmental responsibility as an obligation to her great-grand-children and really enjoys helping other people grow.

 AAG Entries, Scarleteen  Comments Off

I love getting emails like this:

Oct 282010
 

A long while ago1 I sent off an extraneous glass dildo to a friend. She thanked me when it arrived and then I heard no more. That’s fine. I’ve sent off lots of toys to friends in the years I’ve maintained this site and only very infrequently am I allowed a glimpse into the kind of adventures they enjoy in their new homes.

But this arrived in my inbox the other day and it tickled me so much I secured permission from its author to share it with you:

Did I ever write to tell you how much I love that glass dildo you once sent me?

Or how much action it sees?

Did I already mention that I love it?

Actually, I don’t just love it, i l-o-o-o-v-e it.

That thing has made me gush (0-60 in anything between 4-10 seconds) countless times, has entertained me when playing with my submissives, has initiated kinkanilla boys into the joys of anal penetration (carefully, slowly, gently — but firmly) and has generally been the backbone of my toybag.

I said that I loved it, right?

Anyway, all this fun I have had thanks to you — and I am truly grateful. Sorry it’s taken me so long to write and thank you properly, but I’ve apparently been walking about in a post-orgasmic stupor for the past three to four years.

I blame my glassy friend.

--From Sapphire J at Elegant Smut

I love finding my sextoys good homes. I hope your glassy friend brings you and your partners many more years of orgasmic stupor, Sapphire.

  1. apparently three to four years ago! [↩]
 AAG Entries, sex, toys  3 Responses »

Clearly I Shouldn’t Have Taken My Son To The Park

Oct 272010
 

Over the past few weeks my long-suffering Twitter followers have tolerated my complaints about a poison which until recently has lurked undetected in my pantry and refrigerator, a poison that for the past almost-year has upset my stomach so terribly that sharing any details would be just rude.

So I won’t1.

Clearing out that poison from my system (if not from the pantry, as no one else in the family is affected) has brought about a change that is nothing short of miraculous. The time freed up that once was spent in the bathroom2! The energy regained! The ever-so-slightly-decreased sense of all-pervasive self-loathing! Glory be!

As a not unwelcome side effect, the ban on glutens has forced me to be more cognizant of what I put in my mouth. Just two weeks later my pants fit better and were I to gather the courage necessary to set foot upon the scale I have no doubt that it would report back a number marginally less soul-crushing than the last time I was so bold.

So on a beautiful fall afternoon after triumphantly scoring some non-poisonous cornbread mix from the local health-food store my son and I stopped by a park just off one of my town’s main thoroughfares as a reward for his not poking sticky3 little fingers into every bulk bin. At one in the afternoon we were the only ones there; I watched the child gambol and cavort, as almost-happy as anyone with my particular disposition and set of mental health issue could ever hope to be, until some jackhole leaned his upper body completely out of his car window and shouted “Fatass!” in my general direction before speeding bravely away.

What are we to make of this charming young man? Here are some possibilities. He might have been:

  1. Raised by wolves.
  2. Hard-of-seeing, as it’s patently obvious that my ass is the least egregiously un-thin part of me.
  3. A devotee of Marie Claire magazine.
  4. Unaware of the unrelenting fat-hatred dished out minute by minute to which he was contributing:

    5. If you’re fat, you’re not only meant to be unhappy, but deeply ashamed of yourself, projecting at all times an apologetic nature, indicative of your everlasting remorse for having wrought your monstrous self upon the world. You are certainly not meant to be bold, or assertive, or confident—and should you manage to overcome the constant drumbeat of messages that you are ugly and unsexy and have earned equally society’s disdain and your own self-hatred, should you forget your place and walk into the world one day with your head held high, you are to be reminded by the cow-calls and contemptuous looks of perfect strangers that you are not supposed to have self-esteem; you don’t deserve it. Being publicly fat and happy is hard; being publicly, shamelessly, unshakably fat and happy is an act of both will and bravery. (It is definitely worth reading the rest of the post here.)

    –or–

  5. All of the above.

It’s a painful reminder that no matter how many amazing things I do with my life, no matter how successfully I mother or love or write, no matter how vigilantly I work to manage body and mind — to a certain set of people I can be nothing more than a “fatass.” No doubt it was meant to be a reminder, a reminder that in that young man’s reasoning the only version of womanhood worthy to be seen is the kind capable of bringing on an erection.

I am not that. Therefore I should not exist; not anywhere, and certainly not at a park where I could be seen by him.

And I wonder, when I can’t stop myself from thinking down this path, what precisely would change in my mind should this whole gluten thing bring on enough of a weight loss that I’d no longer be subject to that kind of negative attention? Would I, once thin, attract a different set of potential partners? If I caught the eye of some skinny-girl-loving-man, would I ever be able to trust him?

Or would I look into his eyes and wonder if he was the one who yelled?

  1. you should be very, very thankful for this [↩]
  2. whoopsie, we are not talking about this [↩]
  3. and possibly gluten-covered [↩]
 AAG Entries, date, Feminism, think  15 Responses »

It Would Be An Unlikely Scenario, He Said. Not Impossible. Just Unlikely.

Oct 262010
 

Recently received in my dating site in-box. Presented by your humble narrator with head cocked, eyebrows raised and mouth ever so slightly ajar:

I am a clean, well-groomed man. I live in [redacted] but a couple times a month come to [redacted, my town] to deliver machine parts. Today is going to be one of those days. The delivery is at 4am Monday but I need to be there ten hours early so I can log a ten-hour sleep break before I start.

I usually park and sleep at the Holiday Inn near the interstate. I then walk across the parking lot to the little Italian restaurant next door. Would you care to join me for dinner — just dinner to start? We can eat and chat, then you could just say “thank you for a nice dinner” and watch me walk away. Or you could join me in my sleeper for a night that’s as wild as you want it to be.

I’m not trying to force anything here. I’ve been coming here for the last few years and will keep coming for years to come. I’m looking to make friends, not enemies in the area. It’s about 300 yards from the restaurant to the truck stop through the parking lot and across the street. It would be an unlikely scenario that I was going to force you back to my truck from there.

Respond to this email if you’re interested.

 AAG Entries, date  12 Responses »

A Message From Pat Bohannan:

Oct 252010
 

Someone identifying himself as Pat Bohannan posted this, then immediately removed it. Screenshots are here; click to embiggen: Screenshot 1, screenshot 2, screenshot 3, screenshot 4.

Make of this what you will:

Posted on October 25, 2010 by pbohannan:Hello.  My name is Pat Bohannan.  I find myself in the position of having to create a blog page in order to defend myself from some accusations leveled at me by a group of people whom I do not know, and who have the gall to hide behind the veil of anonymity to make some false accusations that have literally destroyed my life in just a few days.  I was unable to get to this until last night, and I spent several hours reading through all of the bullshit that’s been said about me and being involved in this Alexa flap.  It just defies description what some of you have had to say on such circumstantial evidence.

Some assholes put up a blog at http://exposeabro-alexa.blogspot.com/ that makes claims that I am a woman people know as Alexa DiCarlo, an escort (or I guess its supposed escort) who has maintained a blog under the title of Real Princess Diaries.  My photo is all splashed up there with an image of some girl I suppose is Alexa.  They provide “evidence” that I am or have been pretending to be this woman, and provide a litany of information about me and my personal life and how it shows that I am this woman.  I think the best way to start out here is address each piece of that one by one.

“it was found that Thomas accidentally registered one of the domain names associated with “her” sites in his own name with his address in Tennessee, where he used to live.”  That was not really an “accident.”  For several years when I lived in Tennessee I owned my own I.T. consulting business.  As a part of that I ran a hosting service as a reseller (rse-hosting.com).  Part of the service I provided was domain registration for my customers.  Alexa was a customer, and I registered several domains for her.  I don’t recall any one specifically that I registered under my name, but they all had my name listed as the technical and administrative point of contact.  That my name is associated with them to one degree or another should come as no surprise to anyone who knows anything about domain registration.  When I relocated to Delaware a couple of years ago, I offloaded many of my customers over time, but a few have remained in place, including Alexa (until I suspended her accounts yesterday).

The books from Amazon.  Yes, I purchased those, once I found out what Alexa did for a living.  She’d recommended them for me to read so that I’d understand how she wanted her stuff to work (I never even read any of them either).  I performed a lot of technical work for her on her sites. I freely admit to that. That’s was included in the fees she paid me to host her sites as well.

“The IPs came from the Delaware/Philadelphia/New Jersey area.”  One of the other services I provided to my customers is a secure virtual private network connection that provided hardened anti-virus and other security/firewall services, online disk space for file storage, and a variety of other services.  That is hosted from Delaware, so the fact she’d have a Delaware IP address is not a shocker.  As someone who’s been involved in I.T. for quite a long time I’d have to be a complete fucking idiot to be pretending to be someone else and posting all over the Internet using my own IP address.   I know very well how IP addresses work and how they can be used to track someone down.   Why would someone do that for this long knowing their identity was in question and knowing that posting on blogs and other web sites is going to leave an IP address behind?  That defies explanation.

I did have a job at DEMA, too, yes.  Until last week.  I was asked to resign after an “anonymous” complaint to my department about me doing personal Internet stuff while at work.  At the time they’d mentioned my keeping my personal e-mail page up all day (as if I was the only one who does this), a couple of obviously non-business related web sites I use to keep track of what’s going on the community, and there was a mention of something involving Alexa.  I just assumed it has something to do with my going in and working on something she asked me to do on an emergency basis one day (which was obviously pretty stupid, but my hosting service shouldn’t have raised any red flags, and involved an emergency repair that couldn’t wait until I got home).  Regardless, I was asked to leave for violating the state’s acceptable use policy, which I thought was a bit over reactive but I had technically violated the rules so there wasn’t much I could do.  Again I’d have to be a complete moron to use my state computer to go in and do something involving something like this.  I spent my days in meetings and writing plans, and can promise you I didn’t have time to be online all day on Twitter, on a blog, or any other place.  With all of this stuff on the Internet associated with my name now, any future employer is likely to think twice before hiring me now as well.

I can’t speak to what Alexa did with Caitlin’s Corner, or Scarletteen or any of the other sites mentioned throughout the “evidence”.  I sure didn’t bother to keep track of what any of my customers were doing unless an alarm was raised for bandwidth or technical problems.  I defy ANYONE to find any connection to me in any of those sites or through communication with anyone mentioned in any of this though.
I have never physically met Alexa.  I don’t know what she looks like, I don’t know anything about her school or work history, I don’t know anything about her businesses.  If she is faking all of it, I don’t know why or to what end.  I’m not sure why anyone would think a middle aged man who’s had a successful career of over 20 years in my line of work would go to such great lengths to do all of this.  That also defies reason.

I have spoken with Alexa at length on the phone in the past and she is a female, or sounds like one at least.   She did offer to refer me to other escorts when I expressed an interest in seeing one just to see what it was like.  I created a little blog where I put up a torso photo and described the kind of sex I enjoyed with women based on her suggestion.  I did not know she was bypassing any protocols or rules or anything by doing that for me.  As a point of fact, I have only met with one person she referred me to.  So I’m not sure where all of these women who are claiming I was with them on a referral from her are coming from.  Anyone who makes such a claim should be forced to produce evidence that I was physically there.  Yes, there have been intents to do so and some communications back and forth between myself and several women, but only once have I met with one.  That woman appears to be posting as “M” in a couple of places and is actually providing details of what we did and making up conversations that we supposedly had.  It’s almost as if everyone is trying to outdo everyone else. I do appreciate the fact that she at least acknowledged I treated her well.

So a big fuck you to all of you assholes who linked all of this shit together to make it appear as if I am her.  She may be fake, I don’t know, nor do I even care to be honest.  She’s not the one who’s done this damage to me – you people are.  But I do know without a fucking doubt I am not her, nor have I ever pretended to be her.  I’m not sure how one goes about proving they’re not someone else (I could ask any of you to prove you’re not Christ.  You couldn’t do that either).  I’ve tried calling, texting and e-mailing her, but she’s apparently disconnected her phone and terminated her e-mail account.  Short of her coming out and proving who she is, I don’t see a clear way for me to prove I am not her.   I’m open to suggestions about that.  Based on what I’ve read, I figure anything I put out there as proof would be discounted anyway so I’m not even sure it’s worth the effort.

I have an appointment with an attorney Tuesday morning. We’re going to see what my legal options are against the chicken shits who built the blog above.  If I can find out who you are, I promise you I will sue you for so much your fucking great grandchildren will be paying for it.  You’ve cost me a job and a great deal of public embarrassment, and I don’t intend to sit back and let it happen without a fight.  That goes for the Charlie Glickmans and the dozen or so other people who’ve posted my name on their personal blogs as a part of this as well.  I find it ludicrous that so many people are whining about some supposed damage Alexa did when a handful of people are outright destroying another person’s life based on some circumstantial evidence (most of them hiding behind names that aren’t theirs it seems).  But then hypocrisy seems to be the order of the day for a lot of people nowadays.

Thanks for listening.  I’ll also say that I don’t care if you believe me or not, that’s not even relevant at this stage of the game.  Even if everyone who read this did, the damage is already done.  But I am going to pursue legal action against anyone I can connect with this even if I have to take out a second mortgage on my house to do it.

 AAG Entries  45 Responses »

I Add Yet Another Item To The List of Things I Will Not Do When I Become a Grandparent

Oct 252010
 

One of the most astounding things to come out of the ill-advised counseling sessions with my parents was the revelation that lo these many years they had not taken enjoyment in their grandchildren’s birthday parties. “It’s just craziness!” they complained. “All those kids running around like maniacs! And no one pays any attention to us!” I heard their words but my brain did not compute. They expected children’s birthday parties to be populated by sedate, miniaturized adults rather than sugar-and-adrenaline-powered demons? They expected that instead of focusing on games, presents and omgcake the celebrants would lavish attention on them?

Really?

“We just sit in the corner all by ourselves!” they continued. “We’re not even sure why we come since the kids hardly speak to us!”

Pathologically overeager to please I piped up with We can do separate parties, then instantly regretted it.

“Does that mean you only want to see us three times a year, once for each child’s birthday?” they whinged. I rolled my eyes so hard my optic nerves groaned from the effort.

“I didn’t hear her say that,” said the therapist. “Did you say that?”

With an effort I kept my eyes straight ahead. No, I said. No I did not say that, and with that it was settled: Each child would be given a party only with the grandparents and then later, a separate party with everybody else. This arrangement is put to the test for the first time this week as the anniversary of my middle child’s arrival on the  Earth draws near; between my parents, the child’s siblings, the ex-husband, the birth mother and assorted school friends my logistical skills (not to mention my patience) are taxed to the extreme.

I now take this opportunity solemnly to swear that if I am lucky enough to see my children produce their own children, and if  invitations to those kids’ birthday parties are extended, I will never — never! — complain that I am being ignored. Instead I will watch from the sidelines with a smile on my face and probably a glass of wine in my hand. I will give thoughtful presents not with the expectation of thanks but only for delight in the joy they might bring.

From time to time I will pluck forth from the air a scampering child upon whose cheek I will bestow a juicy smack. Grandma’s so happy to be at your party, I will say. I’m so glad you’re having fun with your friends! And then I will release the child back into the thick of things and smile at its retreating blur.

I swear it.

 AAG Entries, family  7 Responses »

It’s not about “harmless fun.” It’s not about jealousy. It’s about credibility.

Oct 232010
 

Why does any of this matter? Why is this not just ‘oh, someone’s having a bit of fun?’ Because “Alexa” referred men to sex workers, potentially putting them at risk. Because some sex workers were threatened with exposure – perhaps not by Alexa, but certainly due to the situation. Because there are already countless bullshit stories about sex work peddled to the media every day, and someone claiming experience they don’t have Does Not Help. Because genuine sex educators fight to have their research taken seriously by prurient morons in mainstream media, and someone who tweets about “teaching your sons and daughters to suck ass and lick pussy” is absolutely not for real.

If someone was blogging about being disabled, and turned out to be able-bodied, there would be an uproar. If an anonymous blogger wrote about being a racial minority or queer, but wasn’t, that would be clearly manipulative and unethical: that person would rightly be shunned. But somehow, because it’s sex work, people still queue up to say “don’t take it so seriously!” Fuck that – we are a targeted, criminalised, marginalised minority who have the right to tell our own stories, and the right to protect that right.

At Desiree this summer I was very aware of how privileged I am to have the support to be fully out as an ex-sex worker to the world. I don’t take the position lightly. What offended me most was knowing someone like “Alexa” was riding the coattails of what I and countless others have achieved with real work, hurt, sweat, graft, fear, and love. Making a mockery of us, as if sex work is something anyone can do. It isn’t.

–Read Charlie Glickman’s post here, and the rest of Belle de Jour‘s comment here.

 AAG Entries, think  2 Responses »

Stoically Pro-Choice

Oct 212010
 

My overwhelming impulse is to take her by the shoulders and scream in her face Get your goddamn tubes tied right now, but being pro-choice means accepting others’ reproductive decisions without trying to impose my own.

But oh how I wish I could do that, or barring that I wish I could march her to the nearest Planned Parenthood clinic so that this pregnancy could be terminated immediately because to be perfectly honest that’s what I’ve wished for her to choose with each and every pregnancy she’s fallen into since the first. If you’re counting (and who wouldn’t be, as it is as horrifyingly fascinating as the worst tales of bodily oddities), she’s been pregnant five times in the past six years and has been able successfully to parent none of the resultant children.

None of them.

“I know a couple,” said the mother of N’s latest child when once she’d been filled in on this most recent development. “They’re a great couple, a Christian couple, and they’ve been trying for so long …”

Oh dear god, I thought through the phone. Please stop talking. Please stop talking right now.

She didn’t stop. “I know they’d love to have this baby. Do you think I should tell N. about them and see what she thinks?”

No! I said, and I’m sure my voice was not kind. You cannot talk to her about potential adoptive parents until she’s decided what she wants to do. She could decide to terminate the pregnancy 1 . Or she might decide to try to parent. If she eventually decides to place the baby, that’s when you can bring up your friends. Not before. And I swore to myself that if she disregarded my warning I would add her to my list of People To Yell At or turn her into the Adoption Police or at least be very, very angry.

Because very, very angry is what I am about every aspect of this situation. Not that my emotions much matter. I am pro-choice — most days even stoically pro-choice — so I will hold my tongue while N. sorts out her plans for this pregnancy, and once done I’ll lend support no matter what her choice.

  1. Would you be surprised to know that it is possible to hear indignant bristling through a phone line? [↩]
 AAG Entries, family, Feminism  49 Responses »

Ride

Oct 202010
 

It was the sort of lovely Autumn afternoon that makes you wish that its clones could march along uninterrupted right through March, so when he told me a few hours before the meeting that he planned on walking it seemed not at all unusual. But when he arrived I took one look at his face and wondered if enjoyment of the weather was the only reason he chose walking over driving, and things only went downhill from there.

Finally I decided to make a break for it. Would you like a ride home, I asked.

“Oh no, it’s right around the corner,” he answered.

Whew, I thought.

“But if you wanted to be a real pal you could run me to the grocery store.” For not the first time in my life (or even the hour) I rued the misplaced sense of politeness that keeps me in situations long after their viability has passed. I loaded him into the car and let him direct me to his store of choice; at some point it became clear that he wanted not just a ride to the store but also a ride home.

I’ll wait for you here, I said when we arrived, and before I even had the chance to tell a friend by text how badly things were going he’d reappeared. No lie: he was in the store no more than two minutes, leading me to believe that he’d made this run many, many times in the past.

“I guess this isn’t making a very good first impression,” he said as he hefted a carton of smokes and a case of Bud into the car. I said nothing; I continued to say nothing until we arrived at his house. Kissed hand endured, he asked if I would consider coming in for a while.

I don’t think so, I said.

Would I set up another time to get together?

I’ll think on it, I said, and finally I was able to make my escape, as limp as if I’d been broken on the wheel, and as I showered off the unwanted touches and prepared to nap away the revulsion I thought, I’m done. The people currently in my life are the only people who will ever be in my life as I have shown myself to be absolutely incapable of making good partnership decisions.

So people who know me right now? Be prepared to shoulder the burden of my every last physical, social, spiritual and psychological need from here unto perpetuity, because y’all are it1 .

  1. I don’t really mean this. Really. [↩]
 AAG Entries, date  6 Responses »

Bad Enough That I Needed a Nap To Recover. And a Shower.

Oct 192010
 

The letters are so bold against the Northern-European-carcinoma-cautious-writing-instead-of-basking-in-the-sun skin of my inner forearm that I suppose they could, in a certain light, appear slightly raised, so when he requested permission to look I did not immediately flinch away as his fingers began tracing over the lines. But they traced more than was necessary to ascertain the tattoo’s flatness, then they tried to trace up under my shirtsleeve. “Do you have more up here,” he leered, and I pulled away with a firm no, that’s all.

“I thought you told me you had two,” he whinged.

The other is on my foot. I slid said appendage out of my shoe and displayed it at what I thought was a suitable distance; in other words, a distance from which he could not reach it. But reach it he did, and instead of holding my foot steady to better read the words he began lasciviously caressing the instep.

My friends, the setting was thus: Outside an ice cream shop surrounded by children in the middle of a lovely Sunday afternoon, fifteen minutes into a date two-thirds of which saw me entirely convinced that we were not — emphatically not — compatible.

Yet politeness and an irrational hope that things might improve held me there for the better part of an hour. You’d have thought that such negative reactions in the first few minutes would have dampened his ardor as the clock ticked forward. They did not. At one point he brought forth cigarettes and a lighter. Oh thank god, I thought. Surely this will keep his hands occupied. But before setting the stick aflame he pursed his lips and thrust his face into mine. “Can I have a kiss?” he asked, his voice a hideous apery of intimacy.

No! I said, more strongly than I intended. I’m very slow. It takes time for me to warm up. Then flashed through my head all the other times that it took me no time to warm up, no time at all, and I wondered who I was trying to fool.

He shot me a look then began talking through a haze of smoke; I listened and hedged his questions as best I could as the thought of any additional intimacy with him, even conversational intimacy, made my stomach roll. Still he kept edging closer, rubbing his arm against mine, grabbing my wrist to make a point. Finally I deemed that enough time had passed to satisfy the requirements of politeness and curiosity. As I dropped him in front of his house1, he paused and looked at me once again. “Any chance I could get that kiss now?” he wondered.

I demurred.

“Then let me have your hand.” I did, thinking he was going to shake it. Instead he put it to his lips, and while my soul tried to crawl out my opposite ear I thought, I’m done. I am totally done.

————

The Scarleteen Blog Carnival continues through November 15th. Check out everything that’s been written so far then drop a couple bucks into Scarleteen’s coffer’s to help them continue their crucial work.

  1. This portion of the story requires its own entry; expect it as soon as it can be told without overwhelming horror. [↩]
 AAG Entries, date  6 Responses »
 Older Entries

Meta


•Site Admin
•Entries RSS
•Comments RSS
•Subscribe via Email
© 2005 - 2011 aagblog.com

Find Me Here



Receive Updates Via Email

Enter your email address:

Delivered by FeedBurner