Random Bits

Below are some random bits from a few recent ME dates.

Monday night ME cooked and elaborate Middle Eastern dinner for me, the second she's cooked for me this month. The difference between this one and the first is that on Monday her son was home. I showed up at about 9pm, and when I got up to her condo she said "I just put Son to bed, can I get you a drink?".

I know that when I was a kid if I heard strange voices in the house I would have been up and snooping around trying to get a peak at who was over. So, all night I had one eye on the hallway that led to the bedrooms to see if the kid was up and about.

The really awkward part was after dinner we were on the couch and ME wanted to fool around. She kept trying to take off my shirt but I was completely distracted. Finally she said "Let's go to my room." I couldn't believe it, she wanted to have sex (and I've already explained she's a screamer) with her son sleeping (or maybe not) just six feet away in the next room. I asked if he would wake up and she said "No, he's a little kid, he could sleep through a hurricane!" If it was OK with her it was OK with me.

We had sex, but I had a hand over her mouth most of the time.

I went over ME's house again on Wednesday night after we got pizza at Two Amy's. We were fooling around on her couch again and she said "Put me on the table". ME's place has an open floor plan, so her living and dining rooms are right next to each other. She was straddling me so I stood up and carried her over to the table and flopped her down on it. We were going at it and I started to hear the table creaking and cracking. ME was close to coming, but I was nervous the table was going to give out before she had a chance. But here's the thing, I kind of wanted the table to break. I don't know if it was because it would make a good story, or if it would kind of be a feather in my cap, but I was rooting for the table to break and pumped harder. When I heard some really loud creaks I eased up, though. I had a vision of the legs snapping and ME crashing to the floor. While an amusing image, she could have gotten really hurt so I picked her back up and put her on the kitchen counter, which was much sturdier. The next morning I regretted not breaking the table.

Last month ME and I met for dinner in Dupont. I rode the bike there and after dinner I gave her a ride to her car which was a few blocks away. I warned her that the pipes were hot and not to touch them, but like the know-it-all she is, she tapped her foot on the pipes a few times and said "It's not hot, see!". Well, the pipes were hot, and when she tapped her foot on them it melted the sole of her shoe a bit and the rubber stuck to my very clean, very expensive, aftermarket chrome exhaust pipes. I looked at the black glob on my pipes, then at her, and decided it wasn't worth getting into it at that point. I suppressed the rage and repeated "They're hot, don't touch them." She drove off in her car and I filed the incident away in the things that piss me off but will bring up later folder.

Wednesday night we took the bike to the restaurant. When I got to ME's place she came downstairs wearing short shorts and flip flops. I said "That's not great biking gear, why don't you go put on jeans and boots?" She said "Oh baby, it's too hot, can't I wear these?" It was hot, and we weren't going very far, so I said it was OK but stressed how hot the pipes were. ME swung her leg over the bike and just as I was about to warn her AGAIN about the pipes I watched as the inside of her calf pressed hard against one pipe.

Now, for those of you who haven't had the pleasure of a motorcycle ankle burn let me explain. The pipes can get very hot, probably 500 degrees after a good ride, and it was pretty hot the other night. When your skin touches the metal there is a moment where you don't feel anything. That moment is followed by a split second where your brain is trying to determine if the nerves are sensing "very cold" or "very hot". By the time the nerves clarify, and the brain translates and sends the signals to the muscles to react, precious moments have passed and the damage is done.

I watched in slow motion as ME went through these steps. The bike was off so I even heard the "hisssssss" of burning flesh. Before I could say anything ME jumped onto the seat and kicked her legs strait out and screamed.

Here's what was going to happen. The burn starts off as a pink mark on your leg about three inches long and two inches tall. Three hours later the mark is deep red and stings like a motherfucker. Hours after that it begins to puss. The next day the puss scabs over. If you're lucky, and you don't pick at the scab, you may only have a slight scar.

ME said "Oh baby, you burned me!". My mind went back to the day ME touched the pipes after I told her they were hot, and her cheap shoes melted onto my pipes and left permanent black blobs of rubber on them. I also heard my own voice from minutes earlier telling her to go put on jeans and to be careful about the hot pipes. I decided that if I said anything it would have been sarcastic, so I just shrugged, scrunched my lips together and made that inhaling noise that signifies "Owwwwwww, that must hurt".

There are some life-lessons that can't be taught, they have to be experienced first hand to learn. This is one of them.