Hey, it's me checking in. This is your brain on Laynie.
Things are good! You were probably wringing your hands waiting for me to update, and well, here it is: things are good. Hope that was the gory, unsightly muck you were hoping to unearth.
Amy and I (the lovebirds) have hung out several times since we helped her eschew her virginity. You like that, "eschew"? Word of the day. Anyhow, it's been fine, no weirdness or mess, just friends. In fact, she's been even nicer to me since then; not like she's got a "crush" on me but like she legitimately appreciated my help, the way she said. Score one for team Abbart.
Get it? Abbott/Hart. Cleverness abounds.
Fine, you caught me lying; things haven't been a shitshow, but life's not quite a Zen Buddhist wonderland of peacefulness either. Trying to gloss over the bad parts like my mom would - ugh, there's a scary thought! Still, just... whatever, here's the weirdness.
We're out at Mama Joy's, we're leaving, da da da... here comes Ephram. Now, both of us have some lingering discomfort between us and the moody little Hottenstein, but we just wave at him and smile, and he waves and smiles back. No thing, right?
Except I chance a look over my shoulder at him once we pass, and he's kind of shaking his head out, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was then I noticed we were holding hands. We've done that lots of times, but what if... I mean, it's way stupid, but what if we were holding them in some way that looked more like something else than normally? There's no real way to test that, however, so it's just farting into the wind.
Another thing: undressing is weird. I mean, we don't get all hot and bothered and start drooling onto each other (or ourselves), it's just like... we're shyer around each other than before. We're talking almost no difference, like when you have a fever of 99 degrees; it barely even counts as being sick, but somehow you can't just totally shrug it off like it's nothing. So like, changing out of street clothes into jammies in front of each other. We hesitate, we blush, and then we laugh and get on with it. We've seen this stuff before, but now we have to think "That one time, when one of us was exposed, we kind of..."
But this is more than manageable or tolerable, it's like, next to nil. I'm so chill I'm a snow cone.
Meanwhile, I'm starting to think I could actually stick around here after the Summer is over. Which is crazy, since Summer's not even here yet! Why should I have to be the grown-up who decides these things? But if Amy and I stay simpatico, I guess there are worse things than spending one more year among the Peak County Morons- I mean Miners.
Oh, there's Amy calling, good stuff. Later, Trusty Journal.
AUTHORESS'S NOTE: Yep, brief.
13th Knight: HAHA, thank you for the belated RAYCOG review; maybe I sounded pouty but I didn't necessarily mean you had to go back and do it! Thanks all the same, though. Glad to have someone weigh in with their views on the subject of lesbirginity; in a society that defines sex so many different ways, it's an interesting thing to debate. To my way of thinking, if you and a romantic partner have had any intimate contact in which one or more party climaxes, you're no longer "innocent" and therefore no longer virginal, (im)pure and simple. Not that virginity is even something to be cherished... I don't spend a great deal of time mourning the loss, believe you me! Also, thank you for conceding that all romances are similar. The thing is, you and I both know that I tend to follow certain patterns (IE, my imagination is about as deep as a rain puddle) but it's because when I put myself in the situations as the characters, usually the reactions play out the same; I could go "meta" and have them do something else BESIDES freak out and go ballistic, but that would be highly unbelievable, so I go back to the ballistic time and again. Which is what it is, better or worse.
NEXT: The Zen Buddhism wanes...