Sitting here, at this mini-desk area that I sit at, I spent the last 5 mins. sharpening pencils. It made me feel very retro-a-rific. I even gave them the full pouty lip blow to get the pencil dusties off. I didn't realize I was even doing it until the last pencil so I'm sure the glam factor was missing from the entire process...That and well my hair is full of static.
Regardless while being the only woman in a shop of men I've learned quite a lot. First thing is, some men will indeed hold in farts and take it out doors. BUT they will ALWAYS let you know that they've done that and that "Their butt cheeks were squeezed together for HOURS" (Direct quote)
Dirty jokes are always funny. As are the aforementioned fart jokes. Day old coffee can be reheated and consumed, and nothing thought of it.
And they are, for the most part, clueless about women and what women truly want.
However, I did get a brand new nickname! For some reason people love to attach monikers to me...which I do believe is a good thing in most instances.
I'm not really sure who he is, but he comes by regularly. I think he somehow does something with parts or stickering or something...
I call him "Grapefruit", because his mom lives in Florida.
He calls me "Southern Belle" because well..does it need explaining? He says it like this "Hey Southern Belle! What's new?" And then upon leaving "See ya Southern Belle!"
In other news...
My sweetie-sweet has the night off. Which I'm hoping means squeezing in as much togetherness as humanly possible before bedtime.
Friday evening I came home from work. There were reminder letters on all the doors to all the ghetto-loud neighbors we have telling them they needed to simmer down with the noise, and not to be loitering in the stairwells and laundry rooms. (Gracias to my boyfriend who complained).
I open the door holding the red letter in my hand. Joy, sheer joy upon my face. As I'm pulling the key from the lock, I hear, down the hallway on the other end of the apartment snoring. (granted our bedroom door was open)
I slip out of my shoes (I hate wearing shoes inside) and creep down the hall still holding the red letter in hand. I stand quietly in the center of the room, watching him. He did not awaken, just kept happily snoring on.
I said sweetly "hi honey"
He snored on.
I repeated myself. Just a little louder.
Snoring stopped. The eyes opened, heavy. He did that fabulous thing I love, he moved his mouth before saying "Hi!"
I waved the letter at him saying "Look what was on the door! May I read it?"
he said "Yeah."
I read it proud, like a kid giving a report.
He said smiling "I know. I told them."
I got in bed with him, and proceeded to tell him a joke that Tom had told me at work. Mike is forever telling me jokes that make my stomach hurt from laughter. This joke I told, well, I butchered it. Terribly. So bad that I stopped. He was smiling. I was embarrassed.
I put my head under the blankets.
He said "Finish the joke, please? I want to hear it."
I said "No. I ruined it!"
He laughed and said "Please?"
He so sweet to humor me..
I do so love being held by him. He's whittled down holding me to an art. It's perfect. I snuggle against him, and presto, I'm all warm and feel like nothing or no one in this world can harm me.
It's so different having a man who actually cares about me. He shows me in such sweet little ways that I just feel so full that I may just burst.
And it's all unique to him. There's no other like him, I'm convinced.
The way he says my name, or makes me laugh, I even adore the way he insists that in holding my hand, his arm MUST be in front. I tease him mercilessly for it, but I adore it.
I absolutely love our stoplight kisses. When it turns red, he leans over and gives me a sweet kiss. Not the "HEY Assholes! Get a Room!" type of kiss.
And he lets me bombard him with nicknames galore. Buddy is the one I use most frequently next to Sweetie-Sweet.
But what I truly appreciate about him, is the way he gets me. He understands me, and he allows me room to be me. Whether I'm being stubborn, or pouty, or totally ruining a joke, he always seems quite amused with my antics.
I know I'm such a lucky woman, beyond lucky.
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