Wow, it's been a crazy couple of weeks.
Itty Bit started school. All the worries of being the little kid in middle school, long forgotten. With her style and attitude she's got no problems. For now.
Our friend came up from SC. It was wonderful, I made a huge meal with steak and tuna bites and roasted red potatoes. They all raved about the wonderful food. Me? I was thrilled to have some of my favorite guys in my kitchen. My bestie included. We don't get to see much of each other.
I've been doing things that make me happy. Painting for one. Currently working on a portrait of our friends little girl. She's so stinkin' cute. Reading for another. I've chomped through 4 books in the last couple weeks.
Hanging out with Mr. Security is another happy place. Has it only been two months since we started dating?
This past weekend was an interesting one. Friday night he went to his friends birthday party. The tentative plan was for him to come back to my house when it was over. When I woke up in the morning, before God himself as usual, and he wasn't here, I sort of freaked out.
He drank too much and didn't want to drive. But also, I think, didn't want to wake me in the middle of the night to come get him. He seemed very relieved when I text him and subsequently went and picked him up. I brought him back to my house, pumped him with water and motrin and put him to bed. Then I went to work. I came back a couple hours later with greasy McDonald's breakfast, to check on him. He asked, "Why are you so nice to me?" To which I replied, "You'll figure it out eventually." Then I went back to work.
He was so grateful for my "care" that when he started to feel better.... Mother fucker got up and cleaned my house. I came home later and looked around, like... something is off here. "Did you vacuum my floor?" Yeah, he did. And cleaned my kitchen, and straightened up too. Color me impressed. Hell, I'll buy you crappy breakfast every weekend if that's what it gets me!!!
Warning, for those who are not used to my foul mouth and blunt nature: This next part is graphic.
Jesus, did I win the lottery? I sent him a graphic of a woman with her hands thrown up in praise. It read, "When she finds out he eats pussy, cooks and clean and wasn't lying about the dick." He got a kick out of that.
This morning I feel like I got beat up. Or fucked proper. You know, however you care to describe it. Saturday night we worked on a bottle of Vodka together. Which lead to some marathon sex. I didn't know I was that flexible anymore. Really? I can fold so that my knee is on my shoulder? Huh, well that changes the game a little.
I managed to resist telling him just how head over heals I am for him. Why ruin a perfectly good weekend with 'feels'? Seems to me when those get involved, everything turns to shit. I'm going to let it simmer for a while longer. No sense in turning over the power so soon.