One of the nights I was in town [for Easter and my birthday...read part 1 first] I went out dancing with my sister. On our way home at about 2am I was drunk enough that I wanted to get laid (you know, so I could feel better about myself…because that always works) so I decided it was a good idea to drunk dial Guy from high school. It had been a while since I’d talked to him; it was time for a comeback. Like leggings or the word rad. He was awake and I could hear people in the background. I said, “Guess where I am? San-rockin’-Ramon!” [Yes, I said San-rockin’-Ramon. I’m not proud of it.] I asked him what he was doing and he said he had family in town for the holiday. I said, “But you don’t celebrate Easter.” He reminded me that it was also Passover. Ah, right. I had forgotten about all those Jewish holidays that The Ex never celebrated. So I said, “Well, can’t you sneak away for a quick fuck?” He said he could and he’d be over in half an hour.
This guy was ridiculous! He went for an hour and a half, breaking two condoms in the process (good thing he brought three). I thought I was going to die. I had to start yelling at him (whisper-yelling, of course, my parents were upstairs) to just finish already!
A couple days later my mom told me that grandma would be coming over and staying the night so I would have to move to an upstairs bedroom. (Grandma needs the downstairs bedroom because she is mostly blind and deaf and can’t climb up and down stairs.)
Mom said, “I’m not going to change the sheets, it was just you in there.”
To which I replied, “No, you don’t need to change the sheets.”
I think one of items on the list of things that will send me to hell when I die is letting grandma sleep on sex sheets because at 31 years old I didn’t want to tell my mom I had a guy over in the middle of the night for a (not-so) quickie. (I eventually told both of my parents one night about a year later when we were all drinking together.)
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