I'm pretty sure I'm done with Marie. Surprisingly, my run-in with her dad last weekend wasn't a deal breaker. I actually found myself a little more into her after that. It was probably the whole "challenge" thing again. In the beginning of our relationship I was like a cheetah and I was chasing Marie, who is like a little baby gazelle. We ran around in circles for a while. She was pretty fast, but she was young and inexperienced in the art of evasion. I got closer and closer to going in for "the kill", but before I made my move, I swatted her butt around a few times trying to knock her off balance. Marie, the baby gazelle, knew she was caught, but didn't give up. Even though she was getting swatted around, she still tried her best to get away. But then I got bored and finally just put my left paw across her body and pinned her to the ground.
Trying to catch my breath after the long chase, I would periodically look down and admire my earned morsel, panting. While catching my breath and reveling in my sense of accomplishment, my attention was continually drawn to larger, faster, and more tasty prey. Sure, I had my meal under my paw... but I couldn't help but look at the smorgasbord of choices right in front of me.
That's where I was last weekend when I went to Marie's house to pick her up for our date. I was just about ready to be done with her. Then her dad came out and confronted me. Suddenly, the baby gazelle had wriggled free from my grasp while I was distracted and the chase was on again. That's the only way I can explain my continued interest.
Last night, though, I decided I was really, truly done. It was the light switch again. Marie dropped by for our FHE gathering and I hated it. I was having fun until she showed up, but when she walked in the door, I got this pit in my stomach. I wasn't expecting her... so before she arrived I had been flirting it up as best I could while at my Home Base. Then, in she walked, straight to me. She hugged me and tried to kiss me, but there were too many other girls around I didn't want to put off. I could tell it offended her. She gave me this look when I turned my head away from her kiss. I'm sure she saw me looking around at all the girls, checking to make sure none of them were watching.
It was like that time I turned 17 and drove straight to Blockbuster video and rented Wild Things. I sneaked it into my house and my friend and I started watching it in my basement. It was awesomer than I ever could have dreamed. Then my mom wandered downstairs to see if her quilt was on the couch. The feeling in the pit of my stomach while my mom looked around was horrible. I knew she wasn't paying too much attention to what I was watching... cause she trusted me. If I paused the movie or stopped it would seem too suspicious, so I just let it go and prayed they wouldn't say the "f" word or talk about private parts while she was in earshot. That's the same feeling I had when Marie walked in.
After FHE ended, Marie and I started making out, as usual. Her lips are too soft, I decided. I have no idea why I haven't noticed it before. Way too soft. It was like kissing a spoonful of butter, or maybe pancake batter. No... butter. Like kissing butter except without the greasiness that doesn't rinse off.
Then as I was getting ready to walk her out to her car I noticed she has peach-fuzzy sideburns and dark arm hair. There was a time in the not so distant past when I was repulsed at the thought of girls shaving their arms. But after seeing Marie's arm hair, I've decided that 'shaved girl arms' is better. When I say "better", I think that means I'm okay with it. As long as I know about it. The last thing I want is to marry an arm-hairless girl under false pretenses. Because when Armageddon happens and we delve into our year-supply, the last thing I want is to, all of a sudden, see thick, brown whiskers sprouting up all over my wife's arms. I mean, I already have to deal with grinding my wheat, boiling my water, shooting looters, and rationing my saltines and Bullseye BBQ sauce. It would be a real kick in the cluster to have an arm-hair bombshell dropped on me at that point.
ps If I marry you without knowing you shave your arms, make sure you fill your 72-hour-kit with Gillette Venus razors, mmkay?