Conjugal visits

Some of you may have noticed that several of my recent posts are MIA: my plan to take a summer lovah, meeting the Marlboro Man, and realizing I was in over my head.

Let me recap for you: Book club friend introduces me to her builder-brother visiting from Montana for the summer. Liv bakes scones for builder-brother. Builder-brother comes over with his carton of Marlboros and body canvas of tattoos. Liv mentally notes that she would never date someone like Marlboro Man. A wave of estrogen hits Liv like a tsunami and her brain is swept out to sea. Liv learns that Marlboro Man kisses very well. Liv wonders what else he does well. In the middle of a jam session, Marlboro Man mentions that he got one of his tattoos in jail. Liv thinks he is kidding. He is not. Liv briefly considers being a jailhouse ho. Liv pictures her gestational carrier crossing the border into Mexico and selling her unborn child to a more worthy parent. Liv breaks up with Marlboro Man, who does not take it well. Liv calls police and in a paranoid streak worthy of an Oscar nod, erases related blog entries from this site in case her unborn child reads this one day.

Not kidding.

Several of my friends have had babies recently. I note with interest that their stories do not read this way, but more like Madonna and child.

I would like to fully blame my bibliophile friend for the omission of the century. As for my momentary lapse of reasoning, I blame the estrogen tsunami. As for my jailhouse ho dreams --- I know it wasn't realistic. But damn ... think of the conjugal visits I would have had. Damn.