This time next week I won’t he here typing. I will be out in the Philly streets doing shit I have not done in literally years. Before COVID I dispensed with the girlie stuff. Not that I am any less of a girl, but that between time and budget and interest, things like manicures and pedicures were not my priority. There is a historical version of me which once a week sacrificed her Saturday to getting gussied up. Hair, nails, feet. I’d drop a ton of money to be ‘presentable’ to the rest of the world, then hit the club. I would sometimes move that to a Friday if the Saturday had other engagements. I spent a lot of money on patterns and relaxers and cotton candy toe polish.

I slowed down on that when I started taking care of Bonnie. I told myself it was because I could not spend the time away. It was much more about not having the money. I would treat myself at times, back when I had hair, to a press out or a color. The pedicures I saved for weekend trips where my flintstone toes might be viewed by someone not me.

May 16-29 the Daddy person will be in the city. I’m kinda excited. I found myself this week trying to temper that excitement, then I reminded myself I have every right to be excited. 19 motherfucking months of excitement.

I was just happy that for a moment, and multiple moments, we could interact outside the screen and experience proximity. I was completely prepared to spend a week without sun and fresh air in the hotel room. Doing the mundane, and the not so mundane. Then in a conversation with the little one he said we would be going out to dinner. Say what now?

“You’ll need a bra. And shoes. And likely some earrings. Let me know if we need to go shopping.”

Say what now?

Now I am nervous all over again. I feel like I am auditioning for a part I am already playing. How did this happen? Him.

He still possesses the ability to immediately shift me and for that I am thankful.

I did not ask for date night though.

It doesn’t matter in the big picture that I did not ask.

I’ve spent a couple hours pouting that he wants to go outside and people. I don’t want people I want him. I then spent a couple hours picturing us on the waterfront with people wishing there were us.

Then I went into panic mode, I mean I don’t “care” how people see me but when you type sentences like that, you want to make an impression. Then I feel the pressure of will I live up to his expectation. I will. The stomach is still in knots though.

So this time next Saturday instead of typing I will be spread eagle on a table with wax on my labia. Then it’s a haircut. And now that I know I have to go out and stunt on motherfuckers, mani pedi.

I secretly wonder if dancing is on the menu. I mean, I *know* it is not, but I still can’t resist the image of us on a dance floor. Because well…………

It’s going to be amazing. We are amazing.