My birthday.

Tomorrow I will turn 26. Today, my body is protesting that idea with all its might.

At this time last year, I was vehemently denying my ever deepening attraction to David.
At this time next year, I will be his wife.
This is the year my life revolves around my wedding. Our wedding.
This year, I contemplate calling in sick to work.

The cat in the bag...

Or out of the bag as the case may be.

Seems not only does Charlie Browne know about this little blog of mine, but he's been reading it since effing October.

Excuse me, do you have a towel for the egg on my face?

Oh, and as usual, I have plenty of expounding to do, all of it about dear ol' Charlie Browne and giving in.

It's been awesome. And a relief. Total, fucking relief.

A reminder for Myself

Note to Self:

No matter how randy you may be, do not, under any circumstances, try to get snuggly with Charlie Browne, especially Drunk Charlie Browne. This is not only rude, but kinda bitchy. And you don't want to be that kind of tease.

AND there's always the possibility that Al Bundy could decided to leave his room and find Charlie Browne's hands up your back while you straddle his thigh on the edge of Charlie Browne's bed. This looks bad, regardless how many layers of clothing your each have on.

Note noted.

Taking the initiative

Without going into too much detail (because it's 2 o'freaking clock in the morning), Charlie Browne just kissed me. A lame kiss, flat on the lips, like Dad insists on kissing me, or DW. All this after me drilling him to just "take the initiative."

I don't mind being the dude's life coach. I just don't want to tell him how to catch me! I shouldn't have to, I don't want to. That's like having a fish just jump into the boat once you're clear of the launch. No fun for you or the fish. He's too nice, and I know men are tired of hearing that. But yes, there is such a thing as too nice. Eh, maybe he's not too nice. Maybe he's too inhibited. No, he's definitely too inhibited, too afraid of rejection, too afraid of screwing it up.

(And, odd though it sounds, I want to march into his room right now and show him how to kiss a girl. Of course this present a whole new set of problems.)

Look at me. I said I wasn't going into too much detail, and low and behold...

Urgh.

Really I just wanted to get the thoughts down so I could expound upon them later.

I know, I know, I've got a lot of expounding to do.

(tee-hee.. oh shut up, it's funny.)

Oh, and he's obsessed with finding my blog! I told him if he could find it, he could read it. But there aren't many giveaways here, so good luck with that.

Good night... or good morning. Whatever. You're imaginary.