Don't cry over spilled milk, but spilled coffee...

Life has been moving very fast since Sunday morning. I've received some good and some bad emails/calls.

Sunday morning a dude in Pittsburgh called and offered to buy one of my bikes, and pay me $500 to deliver it to him. Normally my scam alarm would be sounding off with a deal like that, but he's paying enough up front to make it worth my while. I can't see his angle and think it's legit.

Last night I put an offer in on a house on the Hill. I think it's a great deal, so my goal is to get it under contract then figure out how to pay for it later. This is always an unnerving plan and causes me massive sleep loss. I only bring it up because I will become increasingly cranky until I find funding or they reject my offer.

That was the good.

I briefly mentioned last week that I went out on a date with this French girl from Match.com (whom I ingeniously named Frenchy). She bored me to tears and looked nothing like her pictures. The date was a bust and I was hoping that I wouldn't hear from her again. Well, she emailed me Sunday night and said she would like to get together again.

It intrigues me that two people can go out together on the same date and have totally different takes on how the evening went. I suppose it's subjective, like art. One person looks at a Pollock and sees genius, another sees drips of paint. The night wasn't nearly as bad as my date with Jaws, but Frenchy had to sense that I wasn't into her? Obviously, not. I'm not sure what to do about her.

Moving on to Beads.

Beads had a black-tie affair on Saturday night. She invited me to join her but I opted against it since the tickets were expensive. Also, it was a political event, and I can't stand making small talk about healthcare or other mind-numbing political banter. Instead, she came over to my place at about 1am. She looked awesome. She had on a very tight black dress and high heels, but only for a short time.

Saturday was only the second time Beads and I slept together. Generally, the first time is a little awkward because you're trying to find a mutual rhythm and what positions you both like. Or you're simply hammered. The second time is exponentially better, as was the case with Beads.

One especially attractive feature of Beads is that she is unusually confident in bed. She is much more comfortable with her body than most girls her age. She knows what she likes and asks for it. She is also VERY vocal. She isn't necessarily a dirty talker, screaming obscenities, though there was a bit of that. She's more like a weatherman, giving constant factual updates. "Oh yeah, rub my ass" or "That's it, right there, squeeze my nipples, I'm really close to coming". None of that is earth shattering news, it's just nice to know what's working and what's not.

The surprising thing is the volume of the updates, she shouts them. I mean, my tenant who lives below me knew exactly what was going on Saturday night. She knew position, pace, depth, speed, and approximate ETA of orgasm. Then, when Beads came I practically had to smother her with a pillow. "Aghhhhhhh! I'm Coooooooooooming!!! Yessssss! Yesssss! Yessssssss!". Jesus, yeah, I get it. I appreciate the enthusiasm and don't want to stymie her in way way, but sometimes I wonder how much of that screaming is genuine and how much is just for show. I'm going to invite myself over to her place this week with a giant box of condoms and see how much yelling she does in her house with her neighbors and roommates within earshot.

One last thing I need to bring up. I made Beads coffee Sunday morning then drove her home. We both took our coffees into the car (in mugs), which I do every morning. This is where the problems started. As we pulled out of the driveway Beads spilled a little. Then, when we pulled away from the stop sign on my street, she spilled some more. Then again at the next light. At the third light she got nervous (I was watching out of the corner of my eye) and held the cup up high, for god only knows what reason. In which physics class do they teach you that Newton's First Law of Motion applies less the higher off the ground you get? The answer is none because it isn't fucking true. She spilled again, this time on my dashboard!

I turned to Beads and said "You are clearly having a tough time over there, why don't you just throw the coffee out?", she agreed, but never did it. She just kept holding the cup up high and spilling it all over my car. I snapped. I held out my hand and she gave me the mug. I rolled the window down, poured it out, rolled the window back up, and handed her the empty mug. I said "I'll buy you another coffee when we get to Georgetown". I think she was a little angry at me.