Double Secret Probation

M3 is so completely full of shit. The debut of his self-mandated Sex Reduction Strategy (SRS) fell woefully short of its goals last night. And there's but one person to blame. And in a dramatic turn of events, that person is not me.

We hadn't planned on seeing one another this week at all, which to be honest is actually a huge reason why we allegedly have too much sex in the first place. Generally when we finally cast our eyes and genitalia upon one another, its been days upon days upon days since the last time we had the pleasure. That translates about 97% of the time, at least for yours truly who is entirely unapologetic about being smack-dab in the midst of her sexual prime, to needing to spend the first sixty to ninety minutes of any meeting engaged in boudoir-related activities. (The other 3% of the time, its more like thirty to forty-five minutes because we're on some kind of schedule or something.)

Last night we broke with convention, spending our first 180 minutes together in public...and in the charming and amusing and witty company of his totally fabulous sister, A. A is absolutely the type of girl who I'd be friends with regardless of how cute her older brother happened to be, and that's a really great (not to mention relieving) realization to make.

Last night was our very first meeting. A sit down dinner sort of thing. Most certainly not exactly the light and breezy, "let's grab a quick cocktail" no pressure scenario that I would have architected if given the choice, but no way was I going to pass up the opportunity to meet one of the most important people in M3's life even if I had to do so stone cold sober. With little in the way of options through which to even loosely tie one on before making A's acquaintance, I allayed my fears instead by reminding myself that M3 and A are very, very close and if I've already somehow miraculously managed to win him over, A can't be far behind.

In the end, I don't think I did half bad. Kept my lusty paws off of M3 for the most part...didn't ask any questions or make any comments that would embarrass either one of us...didn't get shitfaced...and M3 said that we seemed to "hit it off well...scarily well." All in all, if I were assigning a grade to my performance, I'd have to go with a solid B. Leaving room for improvement but clearly competent enough to score an invite for a sleepover at A's place a few weeks from now when M3's out of town.

After dinner, we bid farewell to A and headed back to M3's abode. Upon arrival, I attempted to engage him in a game of Boggle...or discussion of world events...or anything that might serve as a temporary deterrent to the inevitable. I took the opportunity as he kissed my neck to remind him of the SRS...the roughly 24 hours old agreement that he was instrumental in initiating and with which I was actually ready and willing to cooperate albeit entirely and completely on principle if only to make him realize the error of his ways...the what I maintain is a completely retarded joint alliance to which, within the first three minutes of the two of us finally being alone together last night, he'd seemingly lost any and all interest in adhering...

If I were assigning a grade to his performance, I'd have go with a solid F.

(I think I may have to grade on a curve.)