I condomised a pepper grinder on Friday night.
There we were on the balcony, waiting for the nightly neighbour Shower Hour (and rather got a whole different hour - yuck!) We were drinking a most tasty bottle of champagne – as one does on a very very quiet chilled night. And eating the most gorgeous tapas that only a broke gay man can whip up from bare cupboards & a corner Woolies. Mmmm.
When suddenly the conversation had me loudly remembering I’d FINALLY found the Pronto Condoms! In a PE Clicks a few weeks back.
My Boy has since been saying that I do not seem at all keen to use them – but it hasn’t been that exactly. I have known what the dilemma of using them would cause me. That my attention would be at complete odds should we finally pop that box… the fascination of seeing how cool the PRONTO is to use (And boy, is it!) and, well, getting back to the sex. And I do not like dilemmas in my sex life.
But now The Boy is gone for awhile. And my husband is caring for me – like an always-been-ridiculously single girl who recently fell in love needs to be cared for. Oh how quick my tables have turned!
It was around the time a flatmate popped home, & asked us if The Hubby and I always immediately turn to sexual not-innuending conversations as soon as he joins us, that I rushed to my bag, pulled out the box, and looked around for the most suitable “appendage”.
Voila! The large pepper grinder! All covered and safe in ONE second flat!
And then the flatmate lit up a cigarette.
I fear the dear grinder now has some unrequited expectations. As I hold out for the return of my boy.
This all was loudly described to my most darling gorgeous fabulous boy yesterday, as I stood in the middle of a quiet neighbourhood street during my morning walk to the shops. Sorry neighbours!
And you thought satellite phone calls would only have the most important of information quickly passed along due to costs! Not when it comes to me!
I am missing my guy insanely. He now is out of global cell phone range, so I am not even able to get a strange hour sms. I just wait for a very rare satellite call or for emails. 48 hours in a weekend – 72 times I checked my email this weekend.
It is strange now to go out, as it is all one big learning curve. Most especially when most of the crowd are the Frenchies (man, I really do have a Francophile problem! Woooooo. Just thinking about it all again and I need to find an icy shower in this office….). No matter what, there will be flirting, but now it is learning to flirt as a woman who is attached, even though she is out as her normal single self. But there is no way in hell she going to screw up what she recently found. Not in one million ungrateful years.
The rest of Friday night was spent staring at the neighbours’ bathroom window (it is in direct line of sight of the balcony, ok!) with the Husband running down the list of ideas for my wedding (He believes in the bet as well).
One word that is not in that man’s vocab is “simple”.
“Yes, yes, my darling D, that sounds wonderful, but pull it back a bit, I just want lamb and potatoes….what the hell am I talking about…why are we even discussing this?!?!?!? Woooohhhhh what is that neighbour doing????”
“Oh, of course, of course, it WILL be simple! We’ll wrap the lamb in those somethingwhateveridon’tcooksodon’tlisten, while we will serve the potatoes like blah blah blah….. Ooooo, AND THEN! We can serve suchandsuchfancyalcohol drinks at that stage and…..”
I have given up on even reminding how many years he has left to plan. Or that I am quite ok with him wearing cute pink hot pants as the Man Of Honour.
And I just got back to staring and sozzling off the champagne, 1920s champagne-glass style.
Even the pepper grinder could tell you … It was another Friday night for the books!
[Update: I realised some of you might not know about this great invention, so finally remembered to link to it: Especially watch this demo version!]