I’m pretty sure my pubic hair is darker now. I’m pretty sure this happened just last week. wtf.

still no blood.

I didn’t get my period. I spotted, a week early, and then when the time came, nothing. I’m not worried about being pregnant, I’ve been pregnant before and boy howdy there’s no mistaking it. No, I’m worried that even though last month was a bloodbath and I’ve had no other symptoms, maybe this is menopause. I’m probably over-reacting. Can I really be menopausal and still be fucking 25 yr olds? (oh god I didn’t know he was 25. I knew he was young, but 25? I’m so sorry. at least booty boy is over 30, and ex-boy is about to be…)

it’s entirely possible. since this blog now seems to be entirely focused on my getting laid, well, I saw him again last night. he needs a name here. booty boy? i do only see him late night when he’s horny and i’m bored.

so…. three times now, only the first one any good, and here’s the thing. he still hasn’t fucked me. i mean, sex is sex and all that, but no actual intercourse. and i like intercourse. i even asked him the second time but didn’t think that much of it it when he chose another option. now, though, it’s starting to seem a little weird.

i’ll see if he’s free next week when i have some time and don’t need to be up early, maybe invite him out toy shopping, that ought to open up the conversation.

Bad Annie had a bad dream. The kind where you do bad things.

My friend and I were going hiking on an overnight trip. We stopped at this low-rent hotel where we’d apparently been before (some of our stuff was in the drawers). My friend reminds me that we have to leave right away to make sure we hit the scramble while it’s still light, but of course I then have to pee first.

This part of the dream gets boring and I hesitate to note to the gentle reader that I often have this kind of dream, searching for a toilet but it’s dirty or busy or whatever. Whatever. Let’s skip the psychoanalysis for now.

I finally succeed and return to the room — and it’s almost dark outside, my friend is mad and lying on the bed. I apologize but I know I’ve fucked up, essentially ruined the whole trip. I sit down on the bed and note that if it’s already this dark we weren’t going to make it anyway. He says yeah, he knows, but he’s just pissed. I acknowledge it silently, close my eyes, and realize he’s kissing the top of my head. What? This has never happened before, he’s married, we’re not that kind of friends. I open my eyes and he’s looking at me, and then he’s kissing me for real, a little gentle and exploratory but unmistakably a real kiss. WTF. I kiss back mostly out of reflex but there’s a weird emotionality to it and my first thought is, well, we can’t take this back.