Soup for Robyn? George and the Matzo Ball, Continued

When last we saw them, George and Robyn were tiptoeing along the "l" word that she'd haphazardly flung his way. George dodged it and kept plundering forward. A few weeks later, he hinted that it was simmering. Will Robyn get matzo ball soup? Let's find out...
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"I'm thinking up lines for my Easter Erotica poem," Robyn giggled. She and George snuggled in front of his big-screen TV. "Things like, 'Let's commit an original sin,'" she giggled some more.

"Don't do it."

"Come on, it's funny. Original sin!" George sounded serious, but she couldn't believe it.

"Don't do it. It's a small Christian town. That could ruin your reputation, if someone at Open Mic records you."

"Are you kidding? It's no big deal. It's funny! Nobody's going to be offended by that."

They volleyed some more, George insistent, and Robyn, not one to be controlled. In fact, when bossed around, she's inclined to rebel. But she really liked and even loved George, so she recited her Easter Erotica at Open Mic when George was out of town. Meanwhile, resentment broiled; George had served censorship and no soup as of yet. They'd been dating for five months and three days. [She was counting.]

"It doesn't feel right that you told me not to read my poetry. I want a boyfriend who supports my creativity," she argued by phone one night. "Plus, it was fine. They liked the poem."

"They probably didn't understand the innuendos," George countered. "Anyway, it doesn't change how I feel about you. I didn't want you to--"

"Wait! How you feel...How do you feel about me, George?"

"What do I think?" No, how do you feel? I thought. But yeah, whatever. Just serve me some f*n matzo balls.  "I think I'm in love with you and I think that you're a good friend and that you're smart and pret--"

"Wait. You said you love me?!"

His voice lightened. "Yeah. But that doesn't mean that--"

"No need to argue anymore, sweetie. I'm good. My baby loves me. Woohoo!"

George chuckled.

----Could the soup get messier? Would it get messier? Stay tuned.

Slowing Down With George

It's been three weeks since our first date, and George and I are still going strong. It's almost a new record for me. We haven't even fought yet.  

The man is very even-tempered, as opposed to me. I'm erratic. My intense emotions run wild, and I do kinda dance like Elaine too. [He hasn't seen my dance moves yet. Thankfully.]

source

Furthermore, I'm a klutz. When George was grilling fish for our dinner one night last week, I sat on a patio chair by the grill. He'd gone in for a spatula, came back out and closed the screen door between his kitchen and patio, then attended to the grill.

"Can I do anything to help?" I asked.

"Yeah, you can go ahead and get some plates for us."

"No problem. Where are they?"

"They're in the right side cabinet above the microwave."

"Okay," I replied. I stepped towards the kitchen when BAMM! My face smashed against the screen. {Fortunately, he hadn't closed the sliding glass door. But that leaves me no excuse for not seeing a screen.}

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned, checking my head.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," not really, probably not. I'm embarrassed, so, yeah, everything's cool. We agreed I'd be of most help if I stay seated. So I did, and dinner was delicious. We ignored the fact that I'd knocked the screen off-track.

The other day, I was viewing an apartment because I have to move out. (That's another story, and a source of stress right now. I'll be relocating during the holidays.) A cute contractor was making final repairs in the dining area, and the landlord stood nearby, between the living room and dining room. I walked towards the sliding glass door in the living room -- not processing the fact that it was a sliding glass doo-- K'BOOM! My forehead met with the glass as I attempted to take in the view.

"Oh no, are you okay?" the landlord asked.

I laughed. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just embarrassed. I'm sorry." I looked at the glass and saw that I hadn't cracked it. "I'm glad I didn't break anything."

The cute contractor shared a story and facial scar from a similar incident.

That evening, I said to George, "You know those helmets that kids wear when they have special needs and do the head-banging thing? I need one of those."

George suggested, instead, that I simply slow down, take my time with things.

Perhaps we all should slow down. At least for a moment, before we start rushing again.

On that note, I hope you have a slow-paced weekend and new week. xo

Veteran's Day // Up Dates & Latex

First, I always feel a tinge of guilt if I don't at least acknowledge Veteran's Day, and I suppose I feel guilty for having no concept of what it's like to be on the front lines. It's easy to say that I don't take my freedoms for granted, but I do. I've never lived or fought in a war zone, and I'm not in one now. Thus, with great respect and humility, I salute our military - past and present. In particular, thank you to my good friends, Pat Tillett and Al Penwasser (Ken Lynch). A meaningful Veteran's Day to all.
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Next, I'm dating "George." He works in latex.  Truthfully, George wears latex for his job...in healthcare. After I shared with him my Halloween Erotica poem, George suggested a date on Halloween. Coincidence? Perhaps; he didn't grab for my candy corns that night.

George is sweet, nerdy, smart and reliable--sort of a higher end model of George Costanza. While both are neurotic, this George exhibits a calm and steady neurosis. He's not at all dramatic. He doesn't carry a magazine cut-out photo of a famous model, boasting that she was his ex-fiance; hasn't lived with his mom since he was a kid, and doesn't have issues with shrinkage. Well, I can't say this for sure. We haven't showered or gone skinny-dipping together. I have good reason to not worry about this, though. Wink. Remember "the swirl"? Yeah, I'm glad he learned that one.

Thanks to my buddy, Bryan, this image sticks with me these days.

mostlyposters.com

While there are differences between Georges, they both know latex. We had this chat the other day:

"A lot of people are allergic to latex nowadays, so we have to avoid it," he informed. 

"What do they do about sex?" I asked.

"I guess they have to abstain or resort to masturbation," he suggested, factually. 

We both giggled.

"When I ask men who come into the office if they're allergic to latex," he told me, "they  very proudly and in a deep voice say, 'Oh no! Not at all. I'm NOT allergic to latex.'"

~~~So, with George in my life now, and with trying to finish my novel asap (I plan to have it written by year's end), and with other big (I use this word with a smile) things that have come up, I may be off-grid more than usual. My apologies. I'm not leaving blogland, that's for sure. I'm already working on spinning some holiday erotica.   Be well! 

Halloween Erotica III, The Climax

Warning: This is the naughtiest thing I've ever written. The audience was very, very attentive during my performance at a local open mic last night. Here's The Climax:

Note: Hot Tamale line is for Mini-Alex (since Alex is married, and Mini-Alex is adorable and -as one of my clients tells me, especially after I do a wildly silly victory dance when I win an UNO game against her- I need help). 

Back to open mic night, Igor was no where in sight. Perhaps he was busy moving corpses for Halloween. 

When I finished the reading, I received solid applause, the announcer thanked me for the "Halloween porn," and one man gave me a fist bump. 

A friend we'll call George - he reminds me of George Costanza (short, balding, wears glasses, and works in Latex. Or maybe healthcare, but there's a lot of latex in healthcare) showed up later. He asked if I was reading, and I told him that I already read. To ease his disappointment, I showed him the poem. George chuckled quietly and said that he was sorry he missed it. Afterwards, George asked for my number and suggested we meet for coffee sometime soon. We exchanged contact info. I'll keep you posted.

HAVE A THRILLING, DELICIOUSLY SWEET AND SAFE HALLOWEEN!