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I Know We're Not Going Out, But You Just Earned Walking Papers before/after
That and she's farted. Twice. While naked in bed. On separate occaisons. She could not have turned me off more, unless she got old 8mm footage from a concentration camp and showed it to me while basking in the afterglow, or had asked to urinate on me. I see her once a week. If you can't keep it together for a handful of encounters in a month, then what the fuck. I am not ready to concede that my standards have dropped to these levels. Don't come to my bed and break wind. Its just not right. I'm all about being comfortable. But the "Getting to Know You" phase still has its etiquette and boundaries. Squeezing the cheese naked in bed is on the other side of those boundaries, at least, in my corner of the world. Apparently, not in hers, though. So, for my particular sadistic amusement, the 'I need some space' conversation is coming up. This will be especially funny, considering that I don't spend much time with her anyway.
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