My Morning: A Timeline

Like I said, I was up early this morning, when tends to happen when you don't give into your urges to watch a movie and go to bed early.

7:45     Take pictures in Beverly Hills, 'cause you're so cool.
8:10     Arrive perfectly on time for your appointment to get blood drawn.

8:15     Wander around aimlessly as your appointment time comes and goes, wondering why the hell the addresses jump from 120 to 170.

8:20     Finally get the help of a nice streetsweeper who tells you that there are, in fact, TWO 150 N Robertsons, one in Beverly Hills and one in West Hollywood, AND YOU ARE AT THE WRONG ONE.

8:22     Rage on the phone to your mother.

8:25     Cry your second batch of PMSy tears of the morning.

8:35     Park too far away from the correct address. Refuse to move your car since you already paid the meter. Rage again.

8:45     Arrive at the office. Finally. Wait. Get blood drawn. Don't even get a lollipop.

The Foreign Land of Man: A Timeline of Love

I remember when I first started "dating" my first "boyfriend". I air-quote that shit because we didn't really date, and he wasn't my boyfriend, but it was my first romantic experience, and it was a thing.

We spent most of our time hanging out in his parents' office, watching movies and making out. Then we started moving into his bedroom occasionally for more serious making out. He said that every time we stepped foot into his room, I hesitated and looked around in wonder like I'd never been there before.

Like it was a foreign land.

I still kind of feel that way when I enter a guy's room. Honestly, it doesn't happen very often. The last time was oh, say...almost a year ago. And that was like, just ONCE.

I really don't have a ton of manly experience. This last year of online dating increased it significantly, but to describe my history would be fairly brief.

A timeline follows behind the cut. Behind the cut, because my father reads this blog, and this is INAPPROPRIATE.*

*Moreso than everything else you write, Taylor? Good point.