Call me Douchebag

I AM AN IDIOT. So I had some nude pictures taken by a photographer, picked one that was flattering, showed off my ass (a fav of the beau) and doesn't show my face, had it framed and gave it to him on Sat, thinking that because we don't see each other during the week and we had made plans for a fancy dinner on the weekend, that Sat. would like Valentine's day, not that I've celebrated it in the past or usually give it much thought. I gave the picture to him rather sheepishly, not sure if he would love it or get upset because I was naked for someone else. He said he would open it on Sunday morning, and that he had been hoping we could get together during the week for V day. We had an awesome weekend, and when he opened the pic he wasn't upset, but at the same time, he wasn't like, "oh wow". But, the beau is also a photographer, and from the questions he asked, it felt as if he was questioning the amount of experience the guy had. (A legit question, by the way, because the guy had actually framed the wrong picture.) Oh well, I thought, not as good an idea as I had hoped, but at least it didn't cause any problems. (We won't even get into how it felt to pose nude. As risque as I can be, it's a humbling experience.)

So, are the nude pictures the reason I'm an idiot? Not exactly. I am an idiot because, and I've said this before, I am sooooo guy like. Did I pick up something else for tonight? Noooooooo. I figured since he drove up I'd pay for dinner (if he'd let me) and then hope for sex. Ater getting stuck in traffic in crappy weather, he walked in with a bag of carefully chosen and/or handmade gifts, wrapped, with a terrific card that he made (and not like a crayon drawing, either). I was too stunned to thank him properly. I should just get "stupid" tattooed on my forehead.