Dear Diary . . . day by day

Saturday, June 16th, 2001 - Much Ado About Fucking

Ah, after noon on Saturday, having just had a breakfast with Tim consisting of pears, brie, french bread and strawberries. It felt very French, and very homey. I love playing house with Tim - learning to do domestic chores and such together, pretending he's not going to leave to go back to Santa Cruz at the end of the weekend. My favorite thing so far is cooking together; last night I made Lemon Broccoli Pasta while he made blackened catfish. Neither dish turned out the way we wanted it to, but it was all edible. Which was a good thing, because it was almost 10pm by the time the food was actually ready to eat.
Actually, last night was not as picture-perfect a night as we usually have, which is a good thing. Really. Sometimes things are so blissfully wonderful with Tim that I get worried; this is great, but will it endure? Will we be able to weather the storms as well as we enjoy the sunny days? So, last night, although we didn't have anything even approaching a fight, we did have a bump that we could practice bouncing over together.
Well, ok, this morning it was together. Last night it was just me, coming back from putting the ice cream away, taking my contacts out, brushing my teeth, refilling the water glasses, to find Tim sprawled out and quite asleep on my bed. See, the deal was I would go do all these getting ready for bed things, then I'd come back and we'd have wild sex. Finally. We'd decided (although I'd had my doubts at the time of this decision) that we'd wait until after dinner to have sex last night. Usually we don't exercise that kind of control. And, to be fair, I made us wait until after the dishes were done before entertaining the thought of sex (there were so many dishes that I couldn't relax with them looming encrusted and unwashed in the next room, blocking my housemates from access to the sink, the stove, all available surface areas and the faucet to refill the Brita water pitcher; it just didn't seem fair). And somewhere in there it was decided that a trip to the scary liquor store around the corner to buy Ben and Jerry's ice cream would be incentive to do the dishes (though, to keep being fair, Tim kept asking why sex wasn't enough incentive to get the dishes done. I dunno; I just wanted ice cream). And to top it off, I didn't like the flavor I'd picked out (Pulp Addiction - Orange Cream and Chocolate Orange Ice Cream swirled together - yummy, but no chocolate chunks of any sort) as much as the Cherry Garcia Tim bought.
Anyway, I'm rambling on. We kept getting distracted, I guess, and by the time I returned from the final task I felt needed to be done before sex, Tim was asleep. And I wasn't able to rouse him (though I wasn't as mean about it as I could've been; I wanted him to wake up, yes, but in a good mood).
Boy, was I pissed. I was so pissed that I couldn't sleep. My heart rate went up, my frustration ate its tail and had babies and I just was antsy as all get-out. I recognized at the time that this was pretty damn irrational, but I was mad at Tim. How dare he fall asleep without fucking me?
My ex-boyfriends who are reading this are probably biting back laughter at this point. I'm insatiable. I rarely, almost never turn down sex with my lovers. And I want it. A lot.
So, anyway, there I was, all frustrated and awake while sweet Tim snored away beside me on the bed. Suddenly his elbows were all in my space and his habit of sometimes sleeping diagonally in the bed was driving me nuts. I did the only thing a girlfriend could do in that situation.
No, no, actually not that. No, what I did was pick up the Ted Chiang story ("Story of Your Life") that Tim had started reading earlier and was really, really getting into and started reading it myself. My goal was to finish it before I went to sleep, thereby "beating" him to the ending. I was prepared to be all gloaty in the morning.
I woke up at 3 am with my finger stuck in the story about a third of the way through. I put the book down, turned out the lights, and awoke this morning not all gloaty, but a bit ashamed at my anger at Tim the night before. I felt better when I talked to Tim about it and he told me he would've been mad at me had I fallen asleep when he had been so looking forward to sex.
Of course, knowing me, that ain't never going to happen. Ah well.

Exercise log:
Stretched for 30 minutes then did the precor for 20. Not as buff as I was just a few weeks ago.
Writing log:

I'm currently reading:
Stranger Things Happen by Kelly Link

My new PO Box is:
Heather Shaw
P.O. Box 13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222

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