That thing where it asks you what type of entry you're trying to make? It's annoying. Very annoying. I wish it would go away.
Another annoying thing is that there's a high-pitched but quiet noise coming from something either in my room or nearby, and I can't find the cause, so it's driving me batty.
But. In other news. Scott called me tonight. I oh so very much did not want to talk to him. In fact, as horrible as it sounds, I was sort of relieved that messing around with him had gotten him to leave me alone. No such luck, I'm afraid. But I did tell him that I was in the middle of something, so I didn't have to talk to him.
That was good.
Nothing much has been happening lately. I see trent in a mere 30 days, which I'm happy about. It's just been way too fucking long to go without seeing him. Honestly, I think it's amazing that we stuck together through it and didn't end up fucking half the country on the side.
I'm a little worried that when we're together again, things won't go well. We're so used to being apart that it'll probably take some time to get accustomed to each other's constant presence, I guess.
Yesterday was the third anniversary of the day we first had clumsy, fumbling, yet oddly exciting sex.
The day before that was the third anniversary of the day we first met in person. He brought me roses to the airport. Can you believe that? He didn't bring them in, as that would have been much too cheesy for words and probably would have resulted in me giggling at him. No, instead, he left them on my seat in the car so that I almost sat on them and was then all gooey and happy and stuff.
One of the main things I remember about that trip, even more so than the sex, was something that happened on the way back from the airport. There we were, sitting side-by-side after talking on the phone for two months and online for an additional month. It was, I think, a little awkward. I mean, we felt like we knew each other really well, yet we had missed out on the physical stuff.
At that time, I was much more of a "shrinking violet." When we talked on the phone, any sexual references he made would make me giggle and blush. I was just really.... well, I don't even know how to describe it.
Different, certainly.
Anyway, during the drive home, while he was babbling on about bypasses and highways and such things, he, at one point, reached over and put his hand on my upper thigh. It was not so high up as to border on frisky--about halfway up my thigh, really.
And that made me tingle. I haven't anything like that from such an innocent gesture ever since. It's odd, really. It was like when his hand rested there, sparks literally flew.
Of course, I didn't tell him any of that for a long time after the fact, as I knew it would give him a big head. But he likes the story. It makes him feel virile.