My Bridal shower, that bawdy event, is coming up. My girlfriends, Christian women all, are going to harass and embarrass me, for their own jolly thrills. And also for mine. We are going to have a blast. I've been thinking of risque tidbits that I can share about each of them as the evening progresses. Turnabout being fair play, and all.
I had to fill out a questionnaire from the church, for pre-married people. Those church folks asked rather a shocking number of questions about sex.
Are we having it? Have we had it? How do we feel about it? and When was the last time we each did....er...it? I am feeling a smug surge of jocularity over my answer to this particular question:
"What has been your sexual relationship with each other?"
To which I gleefully replied, "Enthusiastic Expectation!"
I hope they appreciate my sense of humor.
There's always that question, too, about how my first marriage ended. I never know how to give a concise answer without sounding terribly trite, or flat out untruthful. "Oh," I usually say, "he abandoned us for a life of drugs and criminal activity. Meth, mostly." Then, whomever I'm talking too, will nod and sigh, as if the word 'meth' explains everything. Perhaps it does.
But, we were talking about sex.
Which is a nice change of topic from my usual complaining about how swamped I am. Allow me to remind you how dreary that topic can be: My brother and his wife are coming into town this weekend for a visit. They will be staying here, so I should clean. I have a hair appointment, a pedicure, and also a bridal shower to attend. Just this weekend. There's the normal work routine, and a stack of bills that need my attention. Have I mentioned the yard work and the packing?
So, you can see why I am lingering over sex.
Or rather the discussion thereof.
Or something.
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