i’m pretty annoyed that i succumbed to Sir Henry.

i feel cold.  i feel lonely.  i feel used.

gwendolyn is mad at me, rightfully so.

i HATE sex, really, i do.  i wasn’t completely sure until i tried it again yesterday.

more so than sex (because we can all play starfish, right girls?), i hate how i feel AFTER sex.

scratch my victoria’s secret angel lingerie plan.  i’ll spend the money elsewhere.

that’s exactly what gwendolyn and i did after Sir Henry departed.  we went shopping!

WE RETURNED HOME, with brown rice sushi, only to discover more reasons about why SEX is officially removed from our agenda forevermore.

entering the bathroom, a big ugly brown towel, uncoordinated, stared us in the face!  “what the hell is this?” i questioned gwendolyn.  she cocked her head.

it was her “gwendolyn towel!”  Sir Henry had unfolded it, wiped his hands upon it, and hung it carelessly!  this is how it should look, untouched by men.

and then we entered the kitchen.  he left us a parting gift.

wow!  thanks, Sir Henry, for gifting me with marinara sauce!  clearly, you don’t know what bulimia is, what intimacy is, or that you’ve given me a royal headache.

but i hope we can still be friends.

how do you feel after sex?   

© nicole marie story and nicoleandgwendolyn.com, 2011.