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Last day of work before Thanksgiving. My boss is heading out soon. My other boss thought I�d taken the day off (some confusion over an email from the other Jennifer in the department). All signs point to Out-Of-The-Office-Early, if I�m reading them correctly. God, I hope so. I have laundry to do and cookies to bake before I head to my grandmother�s tomorrow, and I don�t want to be up all night. I slept little enough last night. Tomorrow is going to be a very long day. Tonight should be easy, or I might not make it.
Scott, the HSBF, made it to Buffy Night last night. Seeing him was good. I can�t believe it�s been two years. He�s mellowed, which I�m guessing has a lot to do with his new (well, new-to-me) girlfriend. Being with him this time was much easier than the last. Of course, the last time I went out with just him was three Thanksgivings ago, when the Artboy and I were in a bad, bad spot, weren�t even speaking, in fact, and I was on very unsure ground overall. Not the best sort of time to go out with your ex-long-term-boyfriend. I refrained from the nostalgic hookup that was hanging in the air that night, though. It would have only complicated things more between the Artboy and me if I�d slept with Scott while we weren�t speaking.
It�s funny how that never goes away, though. Scott was the man I lost my virginity with, on a summer night long ago, in my parents� bed while they were away for the weekend. Happily, I can say that I have no regrets at all about the experience, except maybe the parents� bed portion (they found out, my dad hit the roof, it was ugly!). We had been a couple for over two years by then, and had talked about it a lot before we actually did it. I�m amazed in retrospect that we waited that long, although he stopped it from happening several times before then. I remember being in my bedroom with him the night before we both left for different colleges. I thought it was a fitting moment. He said to me, "I don�t want the first time you and I are together to be a goodbye." And he really meant it, too. I was a very lucky girl.
Now, though, it�s funny how it rests there between us, our silent sexual past. After everyone else but Scott had left last night, the Boyfriend showed up from a 13-hour workday to crash at my house (shorter commute to work from my bed than from his own). I introduced the Boyfriend to Scott, and we sat in the living room chatting for about half an hour. At some point, one of us made a comment that brought back to me a rather intimate memory involving Scott many years ago. I looked up at him and smiled, and realized he was remembering the same thing. Not exactly something I could explain to the Boyfriend. "Oh�that reminds me of the time that Scott and I had just finished having sex and were on the couch in my living room still undressed, and my mom and stepfather came home unexpectedly, and we both had to bolt naked up the stairs, hoping we didn�t drop any clothes on the way!" Not exactly the sort of history you want to share with the new beau, especially not right in front of the old one.
After Scott left, I asked the Boyfriend if meeting Scott was weird for him. He said no, that he was glad he�d had a chance to meet the person who�d helped me become who I am. He said that if it wasn�t for the time I spent with Scott, I�d probably be a different person, certainly a different kind of girlfriend, and so he felt he should thank Scott.
Hee. I�m still a lucky girl.
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