Wednesday, March 19, 2008


Yesterday I was pleasantly surprised by a visit from an old highschool chum and old makeout partner. He was passing through town after making a business trip.

No, the visit wasn't pleasant because we resumed making out the same way we did in highschool. Everyone kept their lips and hands to themselves. It's just been a while since we'd laid eyes on each other.

It's funny to see him wearing his age. It's not so funny to see me wearing my age. My age requires underwire and hair dye and fiber supplements.

When we were makeout buddies he was fond of wearing black clothing, had long stringy hair, and I took him to get his first piercing. Everything was combat boots and Nitzer Ebb. Yesterday he was sporting a pressed plaid shirt, Dockers and a crewcut.

This old makeout buddy introduced me to my husband, after we got done making out with each other. My husband also wore combat boots but didn't pick them up at a testosterone musty military supply store. Justin's boots were valid. They smelled of testosterone because he'd drenched them in the hormone doing forced marches. Those boots were oily from sheer manliness, hoo-ah!

Even wearing the boots Justin's shorter than I am.

Now Justin and I have three children, and a mortgage, and a fabulous minivan, and the combat boots are in a box up in the attic.

Now my old makeout buddy has three children with another on the way, a mortgage, his own kid friendly conveyances and his combat boots were nowhere in sight.

God...we're thirtysomethings...

At least at our ages the making out doesn't have to result in blue balls. We can go all the way now...with our own respective spouses in or own mortgaged bedrooms.


  1. If I thought about our mortgage every time I went into our bedroom, nothing would EVER happen in there. Seriously.

    But I get what you're saying.

  2. Someday the kids are gone (our on their own, hopefully), the mortgage has been paid off, you will probably have a car that is different from a minivan (fabulous or not) but the bedroom is still there! And you won't even have to lock the door before using it.

    Do you know how tall the cool woman is in the Eagle's "Long, cool woman in a black dress" song? 5' 9''- almost as tall as I am. See, you can learn things from blogs. Or you can really listen closely to the song.

  3. Woohoo! I am now the owner of a minivan, too!! We even bought it and made it home this time without wrecking the damn thing.

  4. My minivan is on it's last legs, parts are beginning to fall off, sort of like me. When you want to sell your minivan let me know. Perhaps i can crazy glue some of the parts onto me.

    Better still, want to get together and pretend we are old makeout partners. Ask Justin for permission first. I will bring the crazy glue. Afterall, you have already figured out that i am crazy!



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