Thirty-seven years old, six months pregnant, and still doing the walk of shame.
The BF and I are still commuting to each others' homes for a variety of reasons, though a house purchase is on the horizon. Friday nights we do not usually get together, but it was his birthday, and I happily drove down for dinner. Of course, I ended up staying the night...but without a change of clothes.
Bagel shop, Sat. morning, 8:30 a.m.
"Hey, KS, you can't be going to work! Why are you all dressed up? Wedding or shower?"
And, standing behind him, is his teenaged son, so the glib comment I had prepared died on my lips.
KS, blushing, "Uh, no."
"Aw, come on, why ya look so nice?"
Please, please, boy, go to into the kitchen.
"Uh, well, " (insert lame excuse here.)
It wasn't a hell of a lot better stepping into my driveway...which is across the street from an elementary school with a field packed with soccer and football games.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment