Sexy Saturdays: Love Shack

Kiddos, I am so excited to host today's guest blogger on Sexy Saturdays. Michele of Papoe is one of my fave ladies. We met on Studio 30+ and she jumped on me to interview for "Questions for a Blogger." We've been friends ever since.

Michele is like the cool older sister of the blogger world. Or maybe just my blogger world. Like, she's the gal I simultaneously want to be when I grow up *and* want to go party with. She's very cool. And very sweet and supportive. And she's brilliant AND a great writer. You should read her latest letter to her daughters. So awesome! Also? her two girls are 50 kinds of adorable. So much cute should really just be illegal, if you ask me. Plus she's a Bay area gal and we all know how much I loves the Bay area.

Am I forgetting anything? Probably. Well, enough from me. Wait. Yes I am. First, go find her blog and her twitter. Now...enjoy!

I've known my husband for over ten years. He likes to tell me that if I had dated him when we first met (like he had wanted) then we would have already been married for seven years with three kids in tow. Instead, I dated, and dated some more before we got together. We got married in 2007 and quickly got pregnant. And then pregnant again. It was a long twisty-windy-lovely road from there to here. Here is amazing. There was pretty damn good too. There, I was single, and it was my birthday.

It was just like any other night. My friends and I were riding on a Mexican Bus, sipping Jack and Coke from a can, and dancing between the seats to Love Shack by The B-52’s. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly like any other night. It was my 26th birthday and we were flying down Geary Street in San Francisco, heading to our first stop for the evening.

Exiting the bus, we mingled with the other group that had purchased seats for the evening. That was when I made eye contact with one of the boys. Once inside, he bought me a drink at the bar. I don’t remember his name. Ryan? Brian? Troy? It doesn’t matter. By the time we got to our last stop, we were struggling to learn the Salsa, and I decided that I wanted to get laid that night. I didn’t care if I ever saw this Ryan, Brian, or Troy again.

He played the nice guy and asked me if I wanted to go out with him sometime. I said sure. We sat next to each other on the bus, which was headed to drop everyone off for the night. There were two planned stops: 1) The Mission, where my friends and I were picked up; and, 2) Russian Hill. My friends got up to leave and he squeezed my hand. I stayed put and waved goodbye to my friends.

The first time we had sex we were both still a little drunk. He brought me water and we shared a glass before switching positions. In the morning, we stretched out on top of the covers like we had known each other for years. I was relaxed and we were both still willing. We proved that the alcohol hadn’t sweetened the deal the night before. We proved it twice.

Driving me back to my car, he once again mentioned a night out—a proper date. He didn’t have a pen and paper, so he put my number directly in his phone.

He never called. But I didn’t cry about it. I didn’t obsess over why I hadn’t heard from him. I was satisfied, and ready to ride the bus again.