Transplanted Life
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
 
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I feel like such a heel writing this, with him not ten feet away in the bed, but I'm just not sure where this whole thing with Carter is going.

It's sort of silly to worry about, since we've only really been going out with each other for a month, if that, but there was so much dancing around it and significant glances and we-would-have-but before then... I don't know, maybe it just raised my expectations to high. Maybe not knowing how to date as a girl is part of it. Or maybe I'm not as sold on the "acting like a woman is perfectly natural" thing as I'd like to think I am. Whatever the reason, I just don't seem to be enjoying it as much as I did the first week or so and...

Like, take last night. We're going to see another Bogie double-feature at the Brattle, with Jen having set Kate up on a blind date. It's good movies, and we had supper at The Dolphin beforehand. At the intermission between The African Queen and The Caine Mutiny, though, Carter just decides he wants to split. He asks me if I'd like to head back to his place, but I tell him that the second movie is the one I actually haven't seen before. He grumbles about how we're always seeing my movies, so I tell him that if he wants to do something else, I'm open. He says "fine", but leaves, making me the fifth wheel. Which is fine, I've got a magazine in my purse to read until the movie starts, but everybody else is uncomfortable.

But does he have something else to do tonight? Nope. So we just wind up sitting around my apartmentment watching hockey, since he evidently doesn't get NESN in his package. I never realized he was a fan.

The sex was good, though. Not as joyous as the first few times, or as intense as it was later on, but good. It's still a little clumsy sometimes, which is weird, because I thought I'd pretty much gotten the hang of this body by now.

And that's fine, I guess, but I just remember the girlfriends I broke up with who said "if it were just about the sex...", and I wonder if we're heading in that direction.

-Michelle
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Note: This blog is a work of fantasy; all characters are either ficticious or used ficticiously. The author may be contacted at JaySeaver@comcast.net