The new single, Hunting Grounds is out off the upcoming Mother album from in this moment and the refrain (the title above) made me laugh. The song is a direct descendant of Sexual Hallucination though, and I don't really love it. Not because I'm a prude but because I feel like an intruder when I listen to both. The In-Between (the first single) is absolutely stunning in comparison.
But one of us is going down.
It's true. This morning, shoved under the door conveniently after Lochlan and Benjamin left for breakfast and then church with Sam, leaving me to sleep as Japanese food still manages to give me a pounding headache at least one time out of every three trips (yes I drank a ton of water last night to counteract the possibility, I think I'm going to have to give it up regardless) I found a gray envelope. Wax-sealed with an X, my initials scrawled on the front in case a single B was mistaken and appropriated by Benjamin, who isn't home anyway and Caleb knows that.
BRC.
He'll never get it right.
I don't open it, I just bring it with me down the hall in through two doors and he is fastening the top button on a dress shirt. Oh, someone's going to church.
Big date?
Depends. Are we going to the service?
I'm not. Ben and Loch did.
They left you?
For three hours.
Was that smart?
Depends. I hold up the envelope.
You asked for more notice and so I have sent you an invitation. What do you think? Did you open it?
I'm not going on an Alaskan do-over.
If we try that again we'll do Finland instead. Jesus.
What is it then?
Open it and see.
Just tell me.
He stares at me wearily and then goes back to his own more affable reflection. It's an evening event a little closer to home. I'm not shooting so far to wind up far from home fighting with you, when I would just like to mark another trip around the sun with someone I love in a special way.
I can't take the curiosity anymore and I rip open the envelope, scanning his handwriting.
Oh. Why didn't you say so?
I like to make things special, as I said.
What time?
It's on the paper-
Oh, right. I will be there.
I thought we could leave together.
Right. Yes. Sorry.
I'm delighted you accepted so readily.
It sounds like fun and it's appropriate right now. (Appropriate, says the girl with one husband, two ghosts, two formal boyfriends and a handful of completely informal, casual ones.)
You and Lochlan are doing well and you don't have any screws to turn.
No, jetting off to far-flung corners of the planet with a boyfriend who's in virtual jail for almost biting your ear off would be foolish and hypocritical.
I am aware, Neamhchiontach, and that's one of the reasons I scaled things back this year.
I like simple things, Diabhal.
That explains Lochlan. He laughs and then rolls his eyes. You set up that joke perfectly. Give me some credit.
You have to earn credit.
Oh, I know, Bridget. I want to get back to good birthdays and I think this will do it.
I always said a beach bonfire with dinner and slow-dancing by the sea fixes everything.
Well then let's see if it fixes this. How is your headache this morning?
Oh, he knows me so well it's criminal.
But one of us is going down.
It's true. This morning, shoved under the door conveniently after Lochlan and Benjamin left for breakfast and then church with Sam, leaving me to sleep as Japanese food still manages to give me a pounding headache at least one time out of every three trips (yes I drank a ton of water last night to counteract the possibility, I think I'm going to have to give it up regardless) I found a gray envelope. Wax-sealed with an X, my initials scrawled on the front in case a single B was mistaken and appropriated by Benjamin, who isn't home anyway and Caleb knows that.
BRC.
He'll never get it right.
I don't open it, I just bring it with me down the hall in through two doors and he is fastening the top button on a dress shirt. Oh, someone's going to church.
Big date?
Depends. Are we going to the service?
I'm not. Ben and Loch did.
They left you?
For three hours.
Was that smart?
Depends. I hold up the envelope.
You asked for more notice and so I have sent you an invitation. What do you think? Did you open it?
I'm not going on an Alaskan do-over.
If we try that again we'll do Finland instead. Jesus.
What is it then?
Open it and see.
Just tell me.
He stares at me wearily and then goes back to his own more affable reflection. It's an evening event a little closer to home. I'm not shooting so far to wind up far from home fighting with you, when I would just like to mark another trip around the sun with someone I love in a special way.
I can't take the curiosity anymore and I rip open the envelope, scanning his handwriting.
Oh. Why didn't you say so?
I like to make things special, as I said.
What time?
It's on the paper-
Oh, right. I will be there.
I thought we could leave together.
Right. Yes. Sorry.
I'm delighted you accepted so readily.
It sounds like fun and it's appropriate right now. (Appropriate, says the girl with one husband, two ghosts, two formal boyfriends and a handful of completely informal, casual ones.)
You and Lochlan are doing well and you don't have any screws to turn.
No, jetting off to far-flung corners of the planet with a boyfriend who's in virtual jail for almost biting your ear off would be foolish and hypocritical.
I am aware, Neamhchiontach, and that's one of the reasons I scaled things back this year.
I like simple things, Diabhal.
That explains Lochlan. He laughs and then rolls his eyes. You set up that joke perfectly. Give me some credit.
You have to earn credit.
Oh, I know, Bridget. I want to get back to good birthdays and I think this will do it.
I always said a beach bonfire with dinner and slow-dancing by the sea fixes everything.
Well then let's see if it fixes this. How is your headache this morning?
Oh, he knows me so well it's criminal.