Ok, I will be the first to admit that there's something inherently fucked up with the fact that I can strip naked and allow someone access to my body but then you go and call me? Whoa... I immediately become a stuttering, fidgetting little girl trying to figure out how I can get you off the phone and quick.

Tonight? Tonight Bob called me. Apparently he called me last night too, but I didn't hear the phone (imagine that one). Uh-oh. Bob is quickly failing the game. Now when dealing with a girl who runs like an Olympic sprinter away from needy men, the first thing you want to do is...pretend that fucking her was average, perhaps mediocre...maybe you won't even call her for say, a week. You will call but you will be nonchalant about things. To the point that by not mentioning anything--you make her think that perhaps it was all in her sick twisted head.

By that time, I (and every other sick demented woman like myself) would be panting for you, probably even ripping my clothes off the second your car pulled into my driveway. Because that's what sick girls like...pain and anguish. A true mature woman would relish in the fact that a) her friend finds her attractive and that b) they enjoyed their time with you, and c) (gulp) that want a repeat performance.

Tonight's conversation with Bob was strained. Let's see...we talked about basketball, the semi new baseball stadium, his grandmother, his wallet that he left somewhere (not at my house), my dogs, what I did today, mulch, Canada as a vacation spot, my mom as a gardener and so on. Scintilating stuff no? And so, hmm varied...

Here's what we didn't talk about: him fucking me (sorry but we didn't 'make love' and it was a little bit wilder than your average vanilla sex...so the term must be used), it being good, me unsure if I would do it again for the mean/evil reason of the fact that Bob has an IQ rivaling that of Forest Gump, me knowing that I would do it again because it was that good (and now I know why Jenny hung out with Forest).

Here's what I know for a fact: he wants to do it again, he wants to know how I feel about it, he attempted a probe (pardon the pun) but I shut it down with discussion of the impending heat wave, he wants to schedule some time for this weekend which is why he asked me what I'm doing on Friday and Saturday nights on a Monday.

Here's how the conversation ended: "Well um, I'm going to go walk this dog, ok? But, uh, give me a call later in the week-alright?" Bob replied quietly with, "The phone works both way girl, keep that in mind. You can call me, anytime." And with that I hung up the phone and felt like a bitch for being relieved that I got off the phone.

(PS...if this scenario involved a man that I wanted to discuss a future with...he would've been giving me the same damn run around with baseball field nonsense. Ah gotta love reciprocity.)