S.O. and I actually had a tolerable Valentine’s Day. I picked her up from work and took her to lunch for her favorite blt (her choice of restaurant and food), shopped after work for a lovely card that said really what I wanted to say to her (it was sweet and loving, and had a simulated diamond on the front — so her 😉 ), her favorite candy and some rough washcloths. How romantic, right? Except that she mentioned to me, oh, a month or so ago, that her thin, rough cheap washcloths were all worn out, and she needed some new thin, rough, cheap ones because that’s what she likes — never plush or fancy. So I listened to her, I was thoughtful, and I knew she would enjoy them and hopefully think of me every morning when she washes up. She buys lots of jewelry on Ebay every year, nice Yurman and whatnot, because I don’t mind if it makes her happy. That and the whole cross-dressing thing, god what a catch I am.
Trying to decide on a blouse to go with my skirt, otherwise, sitting here shirtless, in need of a good allover shave, in my skirt and skivvies, and my Clark’s sandals. My nipples are telling me I like it. The body is getting more athletic, I’m losing a little weight with my focus on nutrition, and 2-3 miles a day walking briskly, and the soccer seems to be working all the right muscles. You’ve seen my legs, I think they look beautiful, especially freshly-shaved. Oh, alone of course and I’m a little high, taking the time out of my busy soccer night to harvest some slightly sticky leaves and dry them in time for a quick blog.
She did not partake in the gift-giving, and did not invite me to bed. She got me a card, sweet and cute. All I can do is continue to try my best, at least for a little while longer, then I just don’t know.