I shaved my legs for THIS

Oh, action. Why did you ever leave me?

Last night, the Dark Horse said he would stop by to drop off a book that he had borrowed from me. Now, this was the first time I had heard from him since the "I shaved my legs for this" incident, which it will heretofore be known, and I had absolutely. no. idea. what to expect from this encounter. My expectations seriously ran the gamut from "Here's your book, thanks for letting me borrow it" to waking up next to each other sans clothing. I figured it would be somewhere in the middle. Instead, I got an extreme.

When he arrived, I honestly didn't think we would be waking up next to each other. Things weren't awkward, because I can't imagine them ever being awkward between us, but they were... polite? We set off to grab a slice of pizza around the corner. I should probably explain that I live right off a rather, shall we say, colorful? street. There are all sorts of interesting characters and plenty of homeless people always looking for money "for gas." I generally ignore them, but the Dark Horse is nothing if not friendly, and he likes to listen to their stories and engage in conversation. Which is exactly what he did with a flamingly gay man who approached us to ask for money, swearing that he wasn't a bum, and believing the Dark Horse when DH told him he was a doctor. The non-bum hadn't really noticed me, but when he did, he asked "is this your wife?" Then he looked me up and down, and even peered around me to check out my ass, and said in a way that only the truly flaming can pull off, "Girl, you have got it going ON! You are bootylicious!" Then somehow the conversation went from his living with AIDS for 15 years to my bootyliciousness.

Eventually, we shook the guy, but on our way from the pizza place to the bar, passed him again, where he yelled "BOOTYLICIOUS!" after me. Oh, city life. I wouldn't trade you for anything.

When we got to the bar, we ran into my (more than a little drunk) roommate and BFF and joined them. It was after they left that I knew I wouldn't be sleeping alone. I think it was when DH told me that I was indeed bootylicious and asked if I had shaved my legs that I knew. (I told him that I was going to keep that information to myself this time.) We went back to my place. He had said he was crashing on my couch (he was in no state to be driving), but who was he kidding? Technically, he made the first move, but I guess you could argue that I made the first move several weeks ago with my drunken speech, which he obviously took to heart and remembered, because he definitely came prepared, and several helpings of pistachio ice cream with cherries on top later, we were two happy campers.

But it was afterward that I impressed myself with my ice queeniness. First of all, I did not initiate any cuddling. Second, in the morning, when he asked what that was (seriously, does he need a definition?) my official stance on the situation was "It happens." I told him if it happens again, great, if not, ok. And that's how I actually feel about it, too. I mean, obviously I want it to happen again, and I definitely think it will, but there are other fish in the sea. Third, he sent the obligatory "I had fun last night" text message. And I haven't even responded yet. Fenella says this is ice queen nirvana. Now what do I strive for?