Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Just like I want an identity apart from us as a couple.
Throuple?
Threeple?
Whatever the term is.
Hanging out with Posie – sans the boyfriends – is beginning to give me that.
Just like texting Val for non-baby things.
Both females are helping fill in that column of me I didn’t even realize was so empty.
For instance?
I found out that I really like getting pedicures.
And in turn…they found out that they really like coming on my feet afterward.
It’s a win for everyone.
“Soooooooo,” Posie steers the conversation once more while offering me another piece of tape, “you’re meeting Nolan’s ‘rents?” Her head tilts to the side in obvious intrigue. “I didn’t even know they were still alive.”
They’re not.
Which isn’t a terrible thing, from the little bits of his childhood he let slip free while we were decorating our tree.
Part of me thinks he’s sharing to prove to Kid that he can be open with him – unprompted – that there really are no secrets between them, that he’s completely in this like we are, yet the other part of me thinks it’s happening because now he’s going to be a dad and is reflecting on the shitty one he had.
What went wrong.
What not to do.
What never to do.
How to prevent becoming the very person who gave him half his genetics.
And Kid?
Kid is having similar concerns.
He might not say it out loud, but it’s clear as a properly put together budget proposal on his face that he has similar worries.
That he may end up being more like his dad than he imagined possible.
Their contiguity in that department is bringing them closer but not exactly allowing me to have a role, which is why – again – I love having my own friends to also confide in about my own worries.
I think it’s healthy that I do.
That we all do.
I also like learning what emotionally healthy actually is.
I want our child – or perhaps someday children – to have what it is we clearly lost out on having.
I mean I didn’t have shit parents.
But there was definitely room for improvement.
Then again…isn’t that true for most parents?
“They’re not his biological parents,” I casually explain prior to sealing the last of the giftwrap in place, “however, they had a major hand in raising him.” Grabbing a gift tag sticker occurs next. “Truth?” My fingers pause on pulling up the object to meet her stare. “I’m kinda nervous. I haven’t met a boyfriend’s parents in years.”
And the last set of parents I did meet?
Mommy dearest hand fed her psycho son his steak and let him pat dry the juices off her tits when his father was out of the room.
And good ol’ dad?
He had a permanent glazed over gaze that I’m now wondering if maybe was caused by a drug they were giving to him in his beverages…like they had to me.
Perhaps he’s a prisoner too?
“You’ll do a-maz-ing,” Posie swiftly reassures, encouraging me to finish up wrapping with a small tip of the chin. “You’re so fucking lovable, they’re probably gonna be like ‘uh marry this one already’.” My giggles are immediately gasped over. “What if he does propose?!” There isn’t time to respond courtesy of another gasp. “Wait! Does he have to propose to both of you?” Her head cocks itself in confusion. “Or just you ‘cause you’re the chick?” A deep cringe keeps me from answering. “Is that like totally bias shit?” She jabs a finger in the air in my direction. “Sexist shit.” Her tiny, pointed nose scrunches. “Genderist?!”
“Posie,” comes out in soft, sweet tone, “you’re overthinking it.”
“Or maybe you’re under thinking it.” She plops her hands onto her jean bearing hips. “What if that’s the whole reason he wants to introduce you to them?! Or what if introducing you is just a distraction to the real plot reveal of a proposal?!” Her head bounces back and forth in needless contemplation. “Proposals?” After a quick shake, she squeaks, “Whatevs! We totally need to pick you out something special to wear! For that and the annual winter festival this weekend.”
I playfully wag my finger. “You just want me to spend more money at your store to help you get your Christmas bonus.”
“It can be both!”
Laughter leaves each of us again and reverberates around the unsurprisingly barren store.
This is that time of day when most people are either just getting off work or about to get off work or stuck in traffic trying to get away from work. Working remotely – as well as running my own successful business – means I can pretty much make up my own schedule, and one of the best perks – nowadays – is getting to use that flexibility to go shopping or to lunch or to the local doc when my boyfriends are concerned, I’ve been vomiting “too much” for everything to be okay.