I love my boyfriend, but sometimes he’s is too big of a jackass. Last Monday we were in bed watching “House” and drinking wine. Then “24” came on, which we both agree has gotten stupid this season. One thing led to another, and before you know it, we were both naked and going at it. I was a little drunk and had to be at work early the next morning, so after the deed, I kicked Pete out and went to bed.
Tuesday was really busy at work. I didn’t even have time to take lunch. When I finally got the chance to leave, I checked my phone and noticed that my best friend Amy (who lives 150 miles away in Seattle) called me twice and left me three text messages. Each message said that she needed to talk to me right away. It’s not unusual for Amy to leave me a message, and it’s even normal for her to leave nondescript, urgent messages. It’s the volume of messages that alarmed me.
I called Amy back while I waited for the bus. Apparently I called her at some point last night. At first she heard some muffled voices and what sounded like Pete ordering up a round of shots. Then she heard Pete and me loudly in the throws of passion. I don’t remember calling her at all.
That’s not the worst part. After telling Pete about the phone call, he now refers to sex as, “calling Amy.” He’ll say, “You look great tonight, I can’t wait to call Amy.” Or he might say, “That was a long call to Amy last night.”
I may have to withhold “calling Amy” just to get him to shut up.
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