Muscle Mass

I hope everyone had a great Christmas. I know I did. Jake and I are putting together a couple of joint posts that will be going up around the new year. You know... reflecting on 2009 a little bit and maybe setting some goals for 2010. If I could write a New Year's resolution for my roommates, it would be "Stop drinking Calvin's Monster Energy Drinks unless I want to tuck $2.50 under his pillow every time I steal one." Savages.

Jake and Lisa have been getting pretty serious lately and it's pretty depressing for me. I've always kind of thought I'd be the first one to get married out of all of our roommates. I'm not really sure why. Maybe it's because I'm the least social person in our house so the thought of my roomies getting married one by one scares me too much. I'd be miserable if I had to take a shovel with a bow on it to four more weddings. I'd die a little bit inside each time. Then when I read Jake's post about possibly moving away with Lisa... Criminy! So, I've set a goal to point out at least one Lisa Sanders Flaw everyday to Jake. I've told him this, as well, so it's not going to be any huge shock. The first flaw I pointed out is that she doesn't know my middle name. Pshhhh. How can she expect to marry my best friend if she doesn't know anything about me? What will she yell out the sliding door when I'm misbehaving? "Calvin... uhhhhh... YOU. Jake's best friend! Get in here and eat your dinner!"

I've also been encouraging him to snog a bunch of hotties that have been coming over to our house lately. He hasn't slipped yet, but Tiffany is cool enough that I could probably just ask her outright if she'd do it. Ok... Jake will read that and know what I'm up to, but honestly... it won't matter. If Tiffany throws herself at him, I'm sure he'd cave. If Lisa and Jake are truly meant to be, then none of my clever ploys will work, right? It will only make them stronger as a couple. Oh man that sucks to even type. "Couple".

I'm still dating Marie. It's going pretty well. In the beginning I wasn't sure if she was going to turn into a NCMO, but she's pretty fun to be around. She's pretty short, but she has the perfect body type... at least for me. And she is an awesome kisser. When we're horizontal, she prefers the bottom, which is fine with me. I like to be in control. I feel like I'm not as good a kisser when the girl is trying to impress me with her kissing technique. Just sit back and let me do the work. You just focus on exercising restraint and don't be doing any disrobing. Enjoy my magic.

Saturday night, we were rolling around pretty good and at one point, I had to pull myself up a little bit with my arms to get a little more comfortable. Marie gasped a little bit and I thought for a second that I'd done something to hurt her. I said, "Uh oh. What's wrong? What did I do?" She sighed and said, "Nothing. I just can't believe how muscley your arms are." She was rubbing her hands down the backs of both of my upper arms. I'm not the most muscular guy, by any means... but I have always had very well-defined biceps and triceps. I'm just lacking in the pectoral area. (Blast!) No girl has ever noticed before, though. The fact that Marie noticed was pretty awesome. It was pretty arousing to have a girl compliment me so sincerely on one of my physical attributes. Usually it's, "You're so funny" or "You're so sweet" or even "You're such a great listener" (actually, I'm just trying to get to a point in our relationship that you'll let me tuck your hair behind your ear, whisper something awesome that I memorized Mr. Darcy say in Pride and Prejudice and subsequently pounce on your woman-ness).

This morning, however, as I was reliving the sweetness that was Marie's compliment, something hit me. Marie seemed genuinely shocked at the definition in my arms. Did that mean she had little to no expectation of any sort of muscle mass... at all? Should that offend me? Do I really appear to be that void of anything resembling strength? I mean, the stamina is present... Marie knows that... but what about strength?

I may have to stage an arm-wrestling competition with the roomies and make sure they let me win. Not easy wins, mind you. That would look fake. EARNED victories are better. I'll propose it to them and maybe we can all take advantage by inviting different love interests over on different days and then letting the fancying roommate be the one who wins.

Genius, Calvin. Genius.