First Anniversary

Yesterday was the first anniversary of the day B and I met in person.

He picked me up from work and chuckled. “I recognize that shirt.” I was wearing the outfit I had worn to the Thai restaurant. And he too, had put on what he’d worn that first “date,” though I didn’t recognize it. (Gray t-shirt with writing on it; I remember it as a plain gray shirt. Ah, well.)

There was a package wrapped up and tied with string on the passenger seat of his car, and a little glass bottle of a variety of colorful flowers that he’d picked from around his house. In the back of the car was the old Coleman cooler he’d recently acquired for our upcoming road trip.

Back at my place, an album and a card on my kitchen table waited for B. For months I have been working on a scrapbook of our first year. I’m not a scrapbooker, and I don’t really enjoy the tediousness of cutting and gluing things. But, those albums with sticky pages are bad for photos, so embark upon my first scrapbook project I did. Gradually, I realized I wasn’t going to get anywhere near finishing it. So right now he has May through September, and maybe the rest will be done by Christmas. I can’t help but be thorough and I read through this blog, my journal, and our emails for all the details, so I included things like, “Today we got deli sandwiches and watched x movie” and then printed out a little picture of the movie cover. Yes, very time-consuming.

That morning, I’d picked out a blank card and sat down to write to him. I got a little teary and had to put it aside and try again a few minutes later. B got a little teary himself when he read the card, and he took my hand and said those things back to me. Then I gave him the scrapbook. He paused at every page and told me his memories. I put the first postcard he sent me in it, and he told me how he’d had to go all over looking for stamps, what the cashier said when he paid, and then how he went all over looking for a mailbox. Each page in the scrapbook elicits memories for him that I can’t know; we each experienced everything in our own way… He didn’t look at it all–he said needs to do it in small doses because there’s so much emotion associated with everything. So I opened my paper packages from him. There were three tied together, and in each one was a t-shirt that he’d hand-dyed. The shirts were made from bamboo and organic cotton and he’d tried to do each one a different color. One was made with blueberries and mulberries, and it’s turned out to be a lovely shade of…sage. (Which I actually really like, but he was going for purple.) He told me how it was a completely different color when it was freshly dyed, and then different after the boiling vinegar and still different after the sun drying, and I understood how hard he’d labored over the process. One was made with turmeric, so he told me not to wear it if I was going to get sweaty because I might turn yellow. =)

Then he kicked me out of my kitchen. When he escorted me back in twenty minutes later, he handed me a handwritten menu, and the spread on the table was amazing and lovely. He’d made rice with green curry (I love green curry) and there were strawberries and peaches (my two favorite fruits). And lots of other things. We ate and ate. I brought out the brownies I’d made him, and they went quite well with the whipped cream and chocolate sauce he’d made. Then he asked if my house was shaking. Indeed it was. I’d felt earthquakes in other places in California I’d lived, but never here. For a moment we feared that we were feeling far-away tremors from a huge Bay Area quake, but we looked it up, and there was no disaster. Of course we made jokes about feeling the earth move. It’s definitely going in the scrapbook.

We took pictures of each other with the food and the gifts and the flowers and he kept making fun that every time he looked over at me, I was smiling. “What?” I said. “I smile when I’m happy.”




B and I spent much of this weekend planning our road trip. Next month, we’ll take about nine days and drive through several states. It’s been a bit tiring pinning down our route and making reservations, but it’s also fun planning and googling and imagining. I don’t drive, and B’s never taken long trips being the sole driver. We’ve also never spent that much uninterrupted time together, so we’ll see how it goes.

We also finished Reading Lolita in Tehran today! We read out loud at the beginning and at the end, and were on our own in between. We’re both on the fence about some of it, but I enjoyed it on the whole. I’m delighted that we made it through a book together.

Anyway, that was our weekend. Such a sweet thing just happened that I wanted to write it down. We’ve always talked about nicknames a lot, and we’ve come up with term of endearment for each other. I think it’s weird that so many have to do with food, so we modified a common food-based name. I’ll make one up, because I don’t actually want to reveal the real one. Say we want to call each other peach–we would modify it to “fuzzy fruit.” Then this weekend, we bought a fun beverage by a company called “peach essence” (for example). I said, “Hey, that would be fuzzy fruit essence for us. That’s a good name. Fuzzy Fruitessence. Mr. Fruitessence.” And I started calling him that. Then we went to an event with name tags and he wrote Mr. Fruitessence on his! Tonight when he left, he said softly, “Night night, Mrs. Fruitessence.” And of course I responded, “Good night, Mr. Fruitessence.” It made my heart squeeze to hear him call me that. (Rest assured that the real appellation is quite adorable.)

Maybe his mind didn’t jump to the image of us being married the way mine did. Or maybe it did.  

Intimate Internet Order Frustrations

Recently, I decided to go ahead and order another, larger toy. I want something that’s the same size as B so I can keep myself in shape, so to speak, during the week, and work on moving past the tenderness while everything is under my own control. (I still feel tender after sex with B. He is enthusiastic, but not rough, and while there’s no pain during, I’m tender after.) We do regularly skip the lube now, so I know things are improving slowly overall–in the beginning, I never thought he’d fit without lube!

So I went on my search. Most basic vibrators are an inch in diameter, and I needed something 1.5 inches, hard plastic (easy to clean) phthalate free, and inexpensive. I found the whole thing really frustrating. On some sites you can search by length, but the searchable width range is too broad (1-1.75, which is just about everything). I was pretty sick of scrolling through page after page of toys! But I finally found something listed as 6 x 1.5 x 1.5. I was unclear on what the third measurement was (length/width/height–height of box?). Bought it, glad to be done. When it arrived, I thought they forgot to put it in the box. But there it was, in a corner under all the plastic pillows of air. Still boxed, I could enclose it in my hand! It was tiny! I went back to ama.zon to return it, and it’s not eligible for a return. It’s an add-on item now, or something, which it was not when I purchased it. So, $17 down the drain for me, and I have something I don’t want! Grrrr. What to do? Not something one can donate to good.will I think. So I thought of this blog. I can do a giveaway. It’s white and purple (It’s from Evolved and called Miss February;  from the birthstone line), made with body safe ABS plastic, phthalate free, takes 1 AAA battery, and is maybe twice as big around as a tampon. Probably lots of fun for clit stimulation, and a great start if you’re nervous about or new to penetration. I’d love to see this go to someone who wants it (even if it’s for a gag gift or something). Don’t want all my time/effort/money to have been a waste.

Please let me know in the comments if you’re interested. I think I set up a email that gets forwarded to my personal one as well. I will respect your identity/privacy as I know you’ll respect mine.


One year

One year ago today, I started this blog. Also one year ago today, B contacted me on OKC.

This blog began as a way for me to document my efforts to be more social and go on a date. I called it, In the Name of Womanhood, It’s Time: Operation ITNOWIT. Of course I marvel that I actually succeeded.

This morning, when I woke up in B’s bed, I thought about how amazing this last year has been. I thought about how anxious/nervous/unsure I was when we first spent time together, and how I couldn’t (truly could not) imagine ever being comfortable with a man. How I felt nearly ill when we were approaching our first kiss. Now I kiss him all the time. I blow raspberries into his neck and stick my tongue in his ear to hear him yelp. I grab his bum with gusto and graze his crotch with my fingertips in mock innocence. Yup, I’m pretty comfortable. And I have a lot of fun.

A month or so ago, my family and friends–independently of each other–started asking me when they were going to hear about us getting engaged or moving in together. We’ve really only been dating since July, so naturally my response was, “What?! We haven’t even been together a year!” Now B is getting it on his side as well. A couple weeks ago we attended an event during which we sampled foods a various restaurants. B kept the nature of our evening a surprise. When the lady next to us heard that there was a surprise for me, she asked if he was going to propose! And started babbling about hiding a ring in a dessert, though if he were going to do that he wouldn’t tell her, would he… That was the first time anyone had said something about marriage to us outright, and we’d certainly not yet talked to each other about marriage or cohabitation. It’s certainly awkward to have it brought up by a stranger that way. B whispered, “I’m not going to propose.” I whispered back, “Don’t ever hide a ring in food for me, ever.”

Then this weekend a (female) friend of B’s asked him, “So when are you going to pop it to her?” I wasn’t there. But his mother was. So now she’s asking too. I’m glad B told me about it later and we were able to joke about it. I told him about how my sister was looking around my place trying to imagine what it would be like if he moved in. So now B and I have successfully had our first half-joking, hypothetical conversation about living together.

This weekend, we were at a conference. There was a boxed lunched provided, soda and bottled water, and not a recycle bin in sight. I immediately notice this kind of thing and tend to zero in on cans/bottles being tossed in the garbage, like I should tackle the person in slow motion—“Noooooo!”—and save that precious resource from the landfill. B and I stayed after to help clean up and I looked around at the cans and bottles on the tables and windowsills and said, “I feel like I should grab a bag and collect these.” Then we saw that someone had put a (now almost full) blue bin outside in the lunch area. Of course I started plucking cans and bottles out of the overflowing trash cans, delighted that someone else had at least tried to remedy the situation. And B helped. Soon we were digging through all the trash cans and even separating the cardboard lunch boxes out, B stomping them flat and putting them into a large empty box. I almost said, “I’ve never loved you more than I do at this moment.” (But then I remembered the way he danced us, so I don’t know if it would have been strictly accurate.) If we’d had a compost bin, there would have been almost zero trash at that event. It really doesn’t take that much effort to reduce waste. And I was having a great time (making a small but real difference) and was so happy that B jumped right in.

He’s my person, and I’m so grateful to have found him.

I’d like to thank you all for following my journey so far. If you have a blog you’d like to share, please leave a comment. I’m so glad I found an online community to be a part of.