Like An Amateurish Inane Teeny Bopper

Days Walking - 75

My Aunt Terry informed me that my Cousin Terry (her own daughter - why do parents feel compelled to confuse everyone by naming their children after themselves? I mean really) is engaged all right, but with a bun in her oven!

I'm okay with engaged pregnancies, I don't look down on her or anything - but Cousin Terry neglected to mention her state as host to a little creature gestating within. But why would her Mom (Aunt Terry) feel compelled to email the whole family and let us know? That's odd.

The phone call with Lee went ok, we reminisced a bit, but since I was six when the whole thing happened, a lot of my memories of that time are more recollections of what other people have repeated.

Lee was out and about getting sloshed with his peeps, which seems rude but I might have gone that route if I were in civilization, so it was an odd conversation. It did not leave me tingly with the need to call him back any time soon. I also called Dad, and I drew strength more from that conversation than the one with Lee.

Enid - Greets! No, thanks to Deity, we don't have to dwell and sleep begoggled and masked in the shelters or tents to avoid losing our precious flesh. The shelter's primary function is to get us out of the wind, and you can raise the relative temperature a good thirty degrees just by getting out of the wind.

That's not to say it doesn't get friggen cold in the shelters, but we deal with this using light gloves (you need some dexterity during the rest phase to groom, repair equipment, etc) and scarves to create an air layer. It's really surprising what even a small layer of insulating air, trapping your body heat, will do for your comfort (and health!).

Robin - Neat, a dream about me. I was worried about you and am glad to see your blog back to normal. We're friends - Cool! Wait does that mean the marriage proposal has been officially denied? Or are you just waiting for the right moment to break the news to Kevin?

Speaking of blows to my ego, here comes another one...

I finagled Adrian as my tent-mate, and set my wicked plan into action. (The Jump His Bones and Make Him Mine wicked plan) Now, knowing that men are dense and that hinting does not work, I nonetheless spent all day flirting with him.

I walked with him today. I was laughing at his jokes, grinning cutely, preening, looking for excuses to bump into him. You know, all the amateurish, inane teeny-bopper indications that I Would Not Mind A House Call Wink Wink Nudge Nudge.

He didn't get it.

So this evening after the tents were set up, and we'd forced down some warm slop - I think it was oatmeal once - we were talking about his plans for after the trip, and it was a deep, cool, sharing moment...

...And I kissed him. Cutely and impulsively, and then with more meaning. His lips were a bit chapped, and he smelled musky and manly and his beard scratched my face.

And then he pulled away, after a total kiss time of about ten seconds tops, and told me "I really like you - As A Friend." Yeah the dreaded phrase. I've said it to guys, and it never seems cruel unless you're on the receiving end. And then he said he had to pee and left me alone in the tent.

What the hell? Even for a guy, that was rude. Doesn't he know that we have to talk this out? At great length? Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of his life.

After all those neck and foot massages, strong hands kneading, so pregnant with meaning and possibilities and sexual tension and sweet, back-of-the throat 'mmmn' almost-moans, and the knowing smiles, and the hints of more, and he Really Likes Me As A Friend.

It's my own fault, I should not have assumed that he was mine for the jumping. I mean, I don't just want him for the sex he's a really great guy and I thought we might have some kind of future, he's a really hard worker and he's focused and he knows how not to take himself too seriously and he has these muscles that just won't quit. The sight of his back and shoulders, all ripply, makes me quiver, and I mean that. He makes me feel safe and he gets my jokes and I really hoped we could take this to the next level.

But no. I made a fool of myself, and now that I've arranged for him to be my tent-mate, who knows how long the awkwardness will last, avoiding gazes, long empty silences, uncomfortable ugh and it's my own fault.

I'm going to bed.

Litany Webb, signing off

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