Holidays with the Valentines

So Elizabeth and I were seeing less and less of each other since she was worried about getting laid off, but she still called all the time. I mean all of the time. I heard from her either by text, email or phone call every half an hour. One minute was “I love you and I miss you” the next was, “You are not thinking of cheating on me are you?” It was well overwhelming and annoying. I felt a bit strangled. I wasn’t cheating on her. I wasn’t do anything. It was Thanksgiving week!

Thank goodness for the holidays. I traveled home for Thanksgiving to my parents home with the big Valentines mailbox with the heart on it. My parents had known each other since junior high and married right after high school. This was an expectation I had never dreamed of, but I think secretly my parents hoped I would have encountered so I could get married and procreate young.

Upon my arrival home I was grilled by grandma, my aunt, my cousins and my uncle about the “boy” I was seeing. Now, mind you, my parents don’t know I’m seeing anyone, and I’m content with that and, in fact content, at the moment, in them thinking I’m single. Now while everyone is trying to set me up with some nice boy they know, I’m thinking of my phone, which I know keeps ringing or beeping from text messages, and is purposely left in the front seat of my car.

By the end of the night I had stuffed the turkey, and I believe I had also been set up on five virtual dates. My mother had told me she handed out my phone number to at least two available guys at her own job because she thought they were so great. I’m not so sure they are though.

What I do know is my mother got tipsy and walked into me while I was taking a pee. “Oh my, Ruby!” she exclaimed. “What have you done to your boom-boom (she said exclaimed toward her own vaginal area, covered by jeans)?”

“Um, it’s shaved, ma. Please shut the door.”

“That’s not nice. Only Lesbians do that sort of thing. Men like hair,” she said as she shut herself in the bathroom with me.

“Well, I work out and its not healthy. I don’t prefer to have hair down there, ” I answered rolling my eyes and flushing the toilet. “Besides not all men like hair…”

“You’re not a lesbian. Are you? I think they are dirty. I mean who wants to lick a diseased pussy?” she asked.

“Well, certainly not me,” I answered as I pulled up my pants and decented out of the bathroom. “But I don’t want to suck on a diseased dick either. So I wouldn’t be too quick to judge.” I answered loud enough that other family members took a sideways glance at me in the hall as I shut the bathroom door. And I was certainly thankful I wasn’t as judgemental as many people can be . - Ruby