A Good Friendship

Best Boy and I continued to spend more time together, and I appreciated the fact that he put the “friend” in “friend with benefits.”  He checked in to see how I was feeling post-surgery and if I needed anything.  He came over two to three times a week and let me be the guide as to whether or not I felt up to having sex post-surgery.  He helped me out when I was recouping by walking my dog.  And, when I had sex toys or condoms to review, he was always willing to lend a…hand.

When I described our relationship to my girlfriends, we all agreed:

Best Boy really was the BEST Boy!

A few girlfriends wondered if Best Boy and I could become more than friends with benefits.  My answer was always the same:

No.  We can't be anymore than that given that Mr. Exec [my ex-boyfriend] is like a brother to him.  Plus, we haven't gone out on a date since that night with Mr. Exec at Ceiba.  We're just friends who have sex.

Best Boy hadn’t initially informed Mr. Exec that we were sleeping together so it caught me a bit off-guard when the following conversation ensued:

Me: Depending on my treatment schedule, I might be helping out at The Gala.  [The Gala was an annual political fundraiser, and I knew that I would see Mr. Exec at the event.]  Mr. Exec still doesn’t know we’re hanging out, right?

Best Boy: No.  I told him.

Me [trying not to stare at him with wide eyes and an open mouth]: Really?  How did that go?

Best Boy: Fine.  He said he doesn’t care.

A control freak and narcissist like Mr. Exec always cares!  I tried not to laugh out loud and chose to proceed nonchalantly.

Me: Oh.  Well, that’s good.  How did it come up?

Best Boy: I just didn’t feel comfortable keeping it from him so I told him that we had been together.

Me: Good.  I’m happy that it doesn’t have to be a big deal.

What I Really Wanted To Say: Can you tell me every single detail so I can blog about it?

The topic turned to Best Boy’s upcoming trip to Los Angeles, and I mentioned that one of my close friends, D, lives out there.

Me: She’s brilliant, kind and gorgeous!

Best Boy: Really? 

I pulled up a photo of her, and Best Boy nodded in approval.

Me: Want me to hook you guys up?

Best Boy: You would do that?

Me: Of course.

Best Boy: No, you wouldn’t.

Me [grabbing my phone]: I’m texting her now.  [D and I text back and forth, and she says it’s fine for him to email her.]  She won’t be in LA the whole time you’re there, but she says that she hopes to meet you.

Best Boy: You wouldn’t be cool with that, though, would you?

Me: As long as you tell me all about it!  We’re friends.  Sex is sex.  It doesn’t have to be a big deal.

The following morning, Best Boy told me that he and D had become friends on Facebook and that he would be emailing her.

Me: Great!  Seal the deal!  [I laugh.]

Best Boy [pausing]: I didn’t expect you [pause] to be so cool.

Me [laughing]: Oh, you mean because of what went down with Mr. Exec?  [He nods.]  Your boy treated me horribly.  I don’t aspire to be emotional or act psycho, but when someone keeps playing Jedi mind tricks on me, I can get that way.  I’d much prefer to be relaxed and honest about everything.  You and I work in this mode.  There’s no need for drama.

Best Boy smiled and kissed me before heading off to work.  I was really enjoying this friendship!

The Rabbit Habit

When the owners of Lotus Blooms handed me my next toy to review, I smiled like a kid in a candy store and exclaimed:

A phthalate-free Rabbit!

See, I had thrown out my old, jelly rubber Rabbit when I learned that it contained potentially harmful ingredients.  And, I’m a fan of products like the Rabbit that stimulate more than one area.  For those of you who aren’t familiar with rabbit-shaped toys, they consist of:

A phallic vibrator with two or more rows of rotating pearl beads that will hit your G-Spot just so; and

A separate tickler attached to the shaft with soft bunny ears to pleasure your clit.

 
 

There are many Rabbits out there, but Vibratex’s version of the Rabbit, known as the Rabbit Habit, is regarded as the gold standard.  For more than 20 years, Vibratex has manufactured high-quality, body-friendly toys.  Since the majority of women can only orgasm clitorally, the company’s products are designed to do just that, while also allowing for additional G-Spot stimulation.

The Rabbit Habit is made of smooth, safe elastomer.  The toy contains no phthalates or latex and can be used with either silicone or water-based lubricant.  The shaft portion of the product is 5” by 1.5”, which is substantial without being overwhelming.  Although the toy only takes 3 AA batteries, it still packs quite a powerful punch!  For those of you Sex and the City fans, it was Vibratex’s Rabbit Habit that was featured in the show.

When I try out a product like the Rabbit Habit that has separate controls for clitoral and G-Spot stimulation, I test out all the options: clitorally; G-Spot; and dual stimulation.  I started first with the clitoral section or the little bunny ears.  I liked how easy it was to control the toy with a simple flick of the finger up or down.

When I turned the Rabbit Habit on, I expected to lay back, relax and enjoy the ride.  But, that unfortunately didn’t happen.  All I could focus on was how loud the toy was.  

How loud was it?   The product was so loud that I was worried that the noise would wake my neighbors up.  I had this vision of my building’s security guard knocking on my door, asking if I had a contractor in my unit after hours.  Yes, the Rabbit Habit is that loud!

Once I was able to collect myself and overlook the noise, I could focus on the benefits of the toy itself.  The bunny ears are definitely geared for clitoral pleasure, and the pearls inside the shaft are perfect for G-Spot stimulation.  This Rabbit Habit also allows you the freedom to get off just one way or both by just sliding one of the two controls on the battery pack.  And, at $90, the Rabbit Habit is moderately priced for a high-quality, dual-action toy.

I’m torn between Two and Three Squeals of Approval for this toy.  The Rabbit Habit gets Three Squeals because it’s a high-quality, body-friendly toy that will provide you with clitoral and G-Spot pleasure.  But, the noise definitely brought my level of enjoyment down a notch.

Oprah Magazine called the Rabbit Habit: The Rolls Royce of Sex Toys, but I have to disagree with that assessment.  If you want the Rolls Royce of toys, I recommend spending a little more for the Lelo Elise.  The Rabbit Habit is a habit that I could personally do without.  xoxo

*Pursuant to FTC Guidelines, I received the Rabbit Habit free of charge in exchange for my honest assessment of the product.

Spooning With Best Boy

That first week in August 2010, I let Best Boy set the tone about how often we saw each other.  That seemed to work well, as I saw him four times within seven nights. Sex was definitely the focus of our time together, but while he was over, we also managed to catch up, watch some television and do some work.

When I saw Best Boy 12 days after my first breast surgery, I felt strong enough to have sex without a bra.  (Boobs are meant to be displayed, kissed and licked, after all!)  I took my bra off, and Best Boy got on top of me.  My right leg was around his neck, and he was thrusting with a high velocity.  My tits started bouncing, and I wondered if that would be a problem so I moved my left hand over to cup my right breast.

After we both came, Best Boy got up to go to the bathroom.  I turned over and was in excruciating pain.  I looked down and saw that my right breast had swelled to THREE times the size!  (I wish I was exaggerating, but I'm not.  This was like elephanTITis!)

Me  [in a voice that sounded as though I was trying to imitate Rain Man]: This isn't good.  [Pause.]  Something’s wrong.  [Pause.]  This isn't good.  Something's wrong.

Best Boy [coming out of the bathroom]: What’s wrong?  [He looks at me, and his eyes become wide.]  Do we need to go to the ER?

Me: I really hope not.  I don’t know, though.  Mind getting me some ice?

I put my bra back on, placed the ice packs inside and took some Tylenol.  My swollen tit kept throbbing, and I was worried.  My next surgery was less than three days away, and I would hate to have it postponed from a sex injury!  (I'm all for having fun, but there are limits!)

In the morning, I had an event to go to, and Best Boy was kind enough to give me a ride.  He told me to let him know if I needed anything.  Later that day, I texted him:

I’m thankful that we have such great chemistry, but I’m far more thankful that you’re my friend.

And, I was. 

The Perfect Line-Up

Boston Christian called me from the airport to update me on his dad’s status and say goodbye.  I was glad to have seen him that week in August 2010, but his visit also provided me with clarity.  Back in 2007, I had wondered if he and I were meant to date again.  Now, though, I realized that Boston Christian was meant to be my high school love, and my friend as an adult.

That evening, I received a text from Mr. Agency.  (Although we had talked the previous week, we hadn't seen each other since before my surgery.)

Mr. Agency: How are you feeling, sexy?

Me: Good!  Almost all recouped :).  You?

Mr. Agency: I’m good.  I have an event tonight.  If it doesn’t end too late, would you be up for some company?

Me: Of course!  And, it’s okay to come over whenever your event is done.  I’m up late.

Mr. Agency came over around midnight.  I grabbed him a drink, and we caught up on my couch.  It was always easy to talk with Mr. Agency, and I found his smile and laugh infectious.  We discussed a variety of topics from politics to sports to my surgery to the DC social scene.  Yet again, the more time we spent together getting to know each other, the more I liked him.

Since it was late, I asked if he wanted to spend the night.  When we got into bed, Mr. Agency kissed me for the first time.  There are those kisses that make me hot, and there are those kisses that are sweet.  My kiss with Mr. Agency fell into the latter category.  His lips warmed my heart and made me smile.  I wanted more, but I also knew that it was better if we took things slowly.  There was no need to rush into having sex with him.

We kissed for a while before I fell asleep in his arms.  One of my friends described Mr. Agency as a big, black teddy bear, and that label suited him perfectly.  An hour later, he rolled over and said:

It’s been a while since I’ve slept next to someone.  Do you mind if I move to the couch so I can get a good night's sleep?

Me: Not at all.  If you need more blankets or anything, let me know.

With some guys, I would have taken that personally.  But, Mr. Agency was a good guy.  If he needed his sleep, that was fine with me.  I rolled over and fell back to sleep. 

In the morning, I went into the living room to wake him.  We cuddled and kissed a bit more before he headed off to work.  He told me that we would see each other soon, and I knew that we would.  His extremely hectic schedule might prohibit him from taking me out on traditional dates, but that didn't mean that we couldn't spend time together in some capacity.

I felt content with my August line-up:

Mr. Agency was my Snuggle Buddy.

Best Boy was my Friend With Benefits.

That evening, I received a text from Best Boy, asking what I was doing later.  This was turning out to be quite the summer.

The Bald Truth

She looks in the mirror and doesn’t recognize her own reflection.  She’s bald.  The bags under her eyes display how little sleep she has gotten over the past few months.  She undresses and sees her curves.  Since her diagnosis, she’s gained 15 pounds, which is unfortunately the norm for her type of cancer.  Much like the sky on a gray day in winter, there is no beauty to be found here.

Once a week or so, she logs onto Facebook to look through her old photographs.  She smiles at first, feeling nostalgic, before the tears begin to stream down her face.  There was a time when she was the girl with the striking red hair.  There was a time when she could see her godson whenever she wanted without risking an infection that could delay her treatment.  There was a time when the majority of her social life didn’t consist of regular visits to the Chemotherapy Room.  There was a time when she wasn’t:

Cancer Girl.

She’s prided herself on being able to process her emotions and then move past them, but that’s become tougher.  The fatigue, the steroids, the pain, early menopause and how much her life has changed have taken their toll.  She wants her hair back, her body back and her old life back. 

People ask her if treatment is working, and that’s a question that she won’t be able to answer anytime soon.  See, she has an aggressive type of cancer that was caught at the earliest possible stage.  With this type of cancer, there’s a high risk of a metastatic recurrence (also known as stage four cancer or the party is probably over) within five to ten years.  She’s following the protocol that has been shown to drastically reduce her risk of recurrence, but only time will tell whether treatment has been successful.

She confesses that she has had a few pity parties since she started chemotherapy.  But, then, the clouds part, and the sun returns.

She receives a call from a friend who has found a breast lump and wants to know what to do.

She puts on some lingerie before her man arrives and reminds herself that she doesn’t need to feel sexy to be sexy.

An old family friend writes her that she’s getting her first mammogram in over 20 years.

A man opens up to her about how breast cancer has affected him.

She gets involved in a project to raise awareness and funds for breast cancer prevention, research and education.

People – with and without cancer — approach her on the street and thank her for being brave enough to go out in public bald.

She realizes that she will be a stronger advocate against the use of carcinogens in sex toys because she has had cancer.

Strangers send her messages that they’ve started doing breast self-exams or scheduled their first mammograms after reading her blog.

If her experience can be about more than just her, then how can she cry for that long?  This is part of God’s plan.  She silently repeats Joyce Meyer’s quote:

The opposite of fear is faith.

She dries the few tears that have fallen down her cheeks and prepares to go for a short walk.  There will be bad days until she’s done with treatment in March, but today is a good day.  And, she trusts that there will be many, many more good days in her future.

For that, she is grateful.

Friends With Benefits

When I woke on that early August morning, I texted Best Boy:

So…I had a VERY hot dream about us last night.

Best Boy: Really?!?

Me: Yep.

Best Boy: What do you think that means?

Me: I guess that means that you’re right.  That I want to be with you…

Best Boy: Hmm

Me: What are you doing tonight?

Best Boy: Not sure.

Me: Want to come over then?  No more teasing ;).

Best Boy: Sounds good.

When Best Boy arrived at my place later in the evening, everything just felt easy and sweet.  There was a lot of kissing and holding each other close.  (After sleeping with guys like "Buckeyes" Boy and Mr. Exec, it was refreshing to be with someone who wasn’t so dominant in bed.)  Best Boy was affectionate and romantic, and that was just what I needed five days after surgery.

Best Boy was caring and nurturing, as he made sure that I got the attention it deserved without putting pressure on my right breast.  There wasn’t any of that awkwardness that can happen when you have sex with a friend, when it’s your first time with a partner, or when you’re somewhat limited as to the positions.

Afterward, Best Boy held me close or spooned me for most of the night.  When morning came, so did we – again.  I looked at him, smiled and said:

I’m really liking our friendship with benefits!

When Best Boy left an hour later, I realized something.  I hadn’t thought of Mr. Exec the entire time.  Mr. Exec happened to call the following day, but I couldn’t have cared less.  My chapter with Mr. Exec was closed.  But, a new chapter with Best Boy was only just beginning…

In Full Effect

The weekend prior to my surgery, Mr. Agency and I had planned to get together.  It was tough to coordinate our schedules, though, since his work frequently required him to attend late-night meetings and events.  Mr. Agency suggested meeting at 10:00pm on Saturday night.  I didn’t particularly want to go out that late so I asked if he just wanted to come over for a drink.  (My friend, Autumn, was going to be staying the night, which helped to ensure that drinks wouldn't lead to more than that.)

When Mr. Agency arrived at my apartment, I remembered why I was attracted to him in the first place.  His smile lit up the room, and his energy was contagious!  I poured him a beer, and then we sat in my living room, chatting about every topic imaginable.

Talking to him was easy, and there weren’t any awkward pauses in the conversation.  He was a sports fan like me, an only child and Christian.  He also had family in New York City and enjoyed traveling. The more I learned about him, the more I wanted to know. 

Mr. Agency could tell a story with perfect comedic timing, and he made me laugh out loud — a lot.  When the clock struck midnight, he respectfully said that he should call it a night.  I walked out with him to say goodbye.  While we were in the driveway, Autumn arrived, and we all conversed for a few minutes.  She headed upstairs so I could walk Mr. Agency to his car.

I had figured that Mr. Agency would try to kiss me.  (This had been the third night that I had seen him, after all.)  But, to my surprise, he didn’t!  He just gave me a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.  Before getting in his car, he said:

You’re awesome.  I hope that we can do this again.

Me [smiling]: So do I.

I walked back to my place, thinking to myself how refreshing it was that a guy didn’t rush to make the first move.  My friends had told me that Mr. Agency was a good guy, and they were right!

Three days later, I had surgery to remove the two cancerous areas in my breast.  I spent hours in the hospital, texting Mr. Exec.  That part of me that wanted to believe Mr. Exec was a decent guy hoped that he would follow through on his promise to be there for me.  But, as anyone who has read the posts about him knows, Mr. Exec was only there for Mr. Exec.

Following surgery, I received three calls from guys:

1) One from Mr. Exec, claiming he was too busy with work to come by that evening.  Work actually ended up being a friend's birthday party;

2) One from Mr. Agency; and

3) One from Best Boy, Mr. Exec’s best friend.

Mr. Agency checked in on me to see how the surgery went and ask if I needed anything.  I thanked him and let him know that I was all set.  I suggested that we get together the following week after I recouped, and he liked that idea.

When Best Boy called, he said:

I’m on 66, heading into the city.  Since I’m close to your place, I wanted to see if you needed anything.  If so, I can pick it up and drop it off.

Me: I’m good, but thanks for offering!  I really appreciate it.

I heard from Mr. Agency and Best Boy in the same day (the day after Mr. Exec called) and thought to myself:

When the chips are down, you know who your friends are.  Mr. Exec had promised to be there for me, but even though we had been sleeping together, he didn't follow through.  Then, two guys who I had never even kissed offered to help me just because they are good guys.  What kind of guy do I want to be with as I'm fighting cancer?

It was at that moment that I knew with 100% certainty that I would never be with Mr. Exec again.  My “No Dickheads During Cancer” rule was in effect.  I wasn't necessarily looking for a serious relationship during treatment, but it was (high) time that I let a caring guy into my life.

Required Reading

I was a bit surprised when one of the owners of Lotus Blooms gave me a book to review, rather than a product.  But, after reading Violet Blue’s The Smart Girl's Guide to the G-Spot, I’m very glad that she did!  Sex educator and best-selling author Blue is an entertaining and effective writer.  Reading this book feels more like you’re talking to a close girlfriend than delving into a clinical sex guide.  It’s a fairly quick read, but it’s chock full of information!

At a time when there is much literature about whether the G-Spot truly exists, Blue states on page vii:

The G-spot is…a real, tangible thing, like my breast and your clitoris, and you can even see it.  But for some reason, lots of people seem to think that the G-spot is a myth.  Or a rumor…No – it’s a real thing, and it makes you come, hard, period.  No deep wisdom, soul-searching or goddess worship necessary.  But a little knowledge helps.

In imparting her knowledge to her readers, Blue looks at what the G-Spot is, what it isn’t, how it got its name, how to see it, and how to explore it with fingers, a fist, a toy and a partner.  The guide offers recommendations for toys and lube to harness the power of G-Spot and useful tips such as urinating before you begin G-Spot play.  The author also suggests positions for G-Spot pleasure during sex and devotes a whole chapter to how to tap into your ability to ejaculate or squirt.  The informative sections are interspersed with four pieces of erotica by Alison Tyler.  If you need to set the mood before having some quality time with yourself, these hot stories should do the trick!

This book is beneficial for first-timers, as well as those women who are already very familiar with their G-Spots.  As a testament to the book’s appeal, a girlfriend picked it up from my coffee table and plowed through two chapters while waiting for me to get ready.  The next time she was over, she asked where the book was so that she could read some more!

I love how Blue reminds her readers that it’s okay to listen to their bodies.  She encourages every woman to find her G-Spot, while acknowledging that some women prefer to orgasm clitorally or anally.  The author also addresses how some females don’t want to squirt or ejaculate.  It’s all about what feels good and right to each of us!

If I was teaching a course on The Female Orgasm, The Smart Girl's Guide to the G-Spot, would be required reading!  Turn off your laptop, your television and your phone for an hour or two and relax with this guide.  You won’t be disappointed, and for $14.95, you’ll definitely get your money’s worth!

I can’t give this book less than my full Five Squeals of Approval!

* Pursuant to FTC Guidelines, I received this book free of charge in exchange for more honest assessment of the product.

A Friendly Night

As my friend, T, and I arrived at Marvin, I caught her up on the latest with Mr. Exec and Best Boy.  Although Mr. Exec and I had yet to have our final conversation, the writing was on the wall that we wouldn’t be spending more time together.  In the midst of all the drama with Mr. Exec, I had somewhat surprisingly become friends with his best friend, Best Boy.  We would meet for drinks on occasion, attended the same events, and communicated regularly via email and text.

Me: He’s the complete opposite of Mr. Exec.  Everyone loves Best Boy because he’s such a great guy.

When Best Boy joined us at Marvin, the laughs and good conversation continued.  There was a DJ and dancing by the back bar that night so in the midst of all the activity, T managed to subtly send me a text:

He’s cute!

Me: You think so?

T: Yes. Much cuter than Mr. Exec.  You can tell he likes you.

Me: Likes me like that?  Really?  [She nods and smiles.]

(I hadn’t thought about the possibility of being more than friends with Best Boy since the night back in May when I had gone out on my fun, but bizarre, date with him and Mr. Exec.  After our dinner, I chose to get back together with Mr. Exec, and Best Boy and I remained friends.  And, yes, I appreciate that I might not have made the wisest choice.)

When we all finished our drinks at Marvin, I let Best Boy know that he could crash at my place.  (He lived 45 minutes out of the city, and there was absolutely no way that he should’ve been driving.)  Once we arrived at my apartment, I went to walk my dog, while Best Boy turned on the television. 

By the time I returned, Best Boy had fallen asleep on the couch.  He was fully clothed, and he had his body contorted in a position that would ensure that his neck was sore if he slept like that for more than 20 minutes.  I got ready for bed and then woke Best Boy.

Me: Let’s go to bed.

When I said that, my plan was in fact to get some sleep.  But, Best Boy had other ideas.  He kissed me gently on the lips and pulled me in toward him.  The evidence inside of his boxers indicated that Best Boy wasn’t so sleepy anymore!

Me: Go to sleep.

Best Boy: Why did you wake me up then?

Me: So you wouldn’t get a crick in your neck!

Best Boy: I don’t think so.  You’re always pushing the envelope.  Your texts.  [Pause.]  Your little pokes.

Me: You started the poking [on Facebook].  Come on.  We’re friends.  After everything that’s gone on with Mr. Exec and me, we can’t be anything more than that.

Best Boy: You keep saying that, but you don’t act that way.

Me: It’s us.  I was with your boy only a few weeks ago.  You’re still hanging out with Melanie*.

Best Boy: True.  But, you’ve gotten in my head.

Me [confused]: I have?

Best Boy: Of course you have.  You and your games.

Lying there in the dark, I thought about what he said.  I typically am not the one who plays games in a relationship.  But, with Best Boy, maybe I had been doing that?  He was the Good Guy to Mr. Exec’s Bad Boy.  He was the guy I could text and meet for a drink whenever I wanted.  He was the guy who was always good for a smile or a laugh.  I saw him as a friend, but given how much of a flirt I am, had I been leading him on?

Me: I hadn’t thought about it that way.  I’m sorry if I’ve been playing games with you, but I really just see us as friends.  I have way too much history with Mr. Exec, and you guys are best friends!  Even if we wanted something more, there’s no way that it could work.

I had hoped that we would just fall asleep, but Best Boy wasn’t of the same mindset.  Much of the next hour was spent convincing him that I didn’t want to sleep with him.  Best Boy respected the fact that I didn’t want to hook up with him, but he maintained that I should’ve left him on the couch so as not to torture him.

There was one point in the evening when Best Boy woke up and made another move on me.

Me [moving his hand away]: Let me sleep!

Best Boy [whispering in my ear]: If you just think of me as a friend, why are you turned on?

As I tried to fall asleep, I wondered the exact same thing.  In the morning, we woke up, and Best Boy apologized for not letting me sleep much.  I accepted his apology and kissed him on the cheek goodbye.  It was a long, crazy night, but in the light of day, Best Boy and I were still just friends.

* I gave Best Boy's girl the nickname of "Melanie." In retrospect, that might have been confusing since my web designer's real name is Melanie. They are not one in the same.

Up On The Roof

After meeting Mr. Agency at the Masquerade Party, we became friends on Facebook.  That led to an email exchange, and then we began texting each other. 

Mr. Agency: Will you be heading to the event at the rooftop on Wednesday?

I hadn’t planned to go.  But, I knew that two of my friends would be there and definitely wanted to see Mr. Agency.  So, I decided to purchase a ticket and let him know that I would be attending.

That afternoon, I found myself smiling, as I looked at the photo of us that was taken only a few minutes after we met.  In perusing one of Mr. Agency’s albums, I noticed two pictures of him with a good friend of mine, T. 

Since I didn’t know Mr. Agency well, I decided to do a bit of reconnaissance.  (With surgery less than a week away and treatment on the horizon, I didn’t need to date my usual narcissistic and controlling types.)  As it turned out, T has known Mr. Agency for almost a decade and had nothing but great things to say about him.  My friend, Misty, also concurred with T’s assessment.  I felt comforted by the fact that the seemingly warm and genuine guy that I had met at the party was just that! 

On Wednesday night, I arrived at the event and tried to look as sexy as I could in the 94-degree heat.  I said hello to some acquaintances before greeting Mr. Agency at the back bar.  He approached me with a huge smile, a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  He was with a colleague so we exchanged pleasantries about sports and politics.  Our conversation was easy, and I found myself smiling – a lot.

Mr. Agency and I thankfully managed to have a fair amount of one-on-one time at the event.  The topic turned to summer vacations, and he asked if I was heading out of DC at all.

Me: Well, not this summer.  I’m not sure if you saw on Facebook that I have breast cancer.

Mr. Agency: I did.  Will you be okay?

Me: Yes.  Everything was caught early, but I need a little surgery next week and then I’ll start treatment.

We talked for another minute or two about it, and that was it.  There had been a part of me that was hesitant to share what was going on with a man I didn’t know well, but I realized that it didn’t need to be a big deal. 

As the moon illuminated the rooftop and the drinks kept flowing, Mr. Agency and I talked and laughed with a few friends.  One of them brought up my blog and how she hadn’t expected it to be so racy.

Me [laughing]: I’ve heard that before.  Misty and I were at L2 one time, and these people were like, ‘How racy is it?’  Misty looked at them without blinking an eye and said, ‘I've learned a lot about anal from City Girl.’  They were speechless!

Mr. Agency laughed with the group, but it was far from the right time to ask him if he enjoyed anal as much as I did ;).  I wasn’t sure if he had looked at my blog before this evening, but I had to assume that he would check it out now.  And, although I hoped that he didn’t rush home to read about every past sexcapade, I was fine with him knowing about my site.

T and I decided to head out to get some food.  Before we left, Mr. Agency came up to me and said:

It was great seeing you tonight, but I hope that we can hang out alone next time.  Are you around this weekend?

Me [smiling]: Yes, I am.  I’d like that.

Mr. Agency: Good.  I’ll call you.

As T and I drove to Marvin, I received a text from Mr. Exec’s best friend, Best Boy.  (We had been texting each other earlier since he had been considering coming to the rooftop event.)

Best Boy: You still at the event?

Me: Just left.  Going to Marvin.  Where are you?

Best Boy: Ceiba.  [A restaurant that’s not far from Marvin.]

Me: Come by :).

Best Boy: Okay. Finishing my drink.

This night was far from over.

To be continued…