Read Online How Long You Should Wait to Have Sex: a Novel by Monique Sorgen - Free Book Online
Authors: Monique Sorgen
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birthday was a great day to test the boundaries of my loyalty to him.”
“You know he’s right; most of the people in your office are total morons. You should be flattered that he asked you to do it.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but this task was custom made for a moron. It requires showing up, signing a thing, and taking the book to another building, four blocks away.” I know this is an exercise in pointing out the obvious, but I’m finding Lacey’s openness to being inconvenienced by my boss’s every whim and fancy to be highly unusual, and I’m hoping that my straight-forwardness will help us get to the bottom of it. I mean, after all, he is throwing a wrench in her Saturday night plans, too. Hey, maybe she decided to turn over a new leaf for my birthday. The only other possibility is that she’s thinking if my errand goes late enough, it’ll get too late for us to eat—per her “never eat anything within three hours of going to bed” rule, and she won’t have to buy me dinner at all.
Still trying to make the best of it, Lacey optimistically offers, “Well there are lots of good restaurants in that neighborhood. Why don’t I just pick you up at your place so we can get together at a reasonable time. I’ll run your little book errand with you, and make a reservation somewhere near the Chronicle offices?”
That’s weird, “I never told you it was the Chronicle.”
“You didn’t?” she seems shocked. “Then how did I know? Is it the Chronicle?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must’ve told me. Why would I think it was the Chronicle if you didn’t tell me?” Lacey never seemed like the psychic type to me, she’s too out of touch with the general consensus of the populous. She continues trying to figure it out, “Anyway, you said it was a book. Where else would you have to drop a new book off on a Saturday night, four blocks away, besides the Chronicle?”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“So I guess I was just assuming it would be what it is.”
We realize there’s no point in arguing about it, and also that if we don’t get off the phone and start getting ready, I am not going to be on time for this birthday ruining opportunity, which will only cause it to ruin my birthday plans further.
~
Boy is it easier to get ready for a night out when you haven’t promised everyone you’ll wear a certain dress or color. I get ready in record time. In truth, I think I was more motivated than usual, because I knew that if I kept Lacey waiting, it would be that much longer before I got a chance to tell her all about my amazing night, and I could not wait to tell her about my amazing night!
Lacey shows up, and I get in her taxi, ready to unload my whole story and release all my pent up emotions from last night, when she starts in about her night.
“I can’t believe you left me there alone with Marty, last night. I couldn’t figure out a way to blow him off, so I slept with him.” I look at the taxi driver to check for a reaction to the mention of sexual activity. No reaction. Good, this one doesn’t speak English.
Lacey doesn’t stop to check, she’s still talking, “And worse, I gave him my real number! Now he won’t stop calling me… Maybe I’m just too nice.”
“Nice” is not the first descriptive that comes to mind when you meet Lacey. Fun, ambitious, organized, honest, loyal, hard-working, detail-oriented, indefatigable, unintentionally funny, and her heart is in the right place, but the list of her attributes doesn’t usually lead to “nice”. She’s never mean, but she’s not really nice either. She’s more like a reality check. You want to hate her for the things she says, but when you’re done being mad and you stop to think about it, you realize that she’s usually right. Except about being nice.
On the other hand, I am the one who left her there under Marty’s supervision, so the fact that she slept with him may in some ways be my fault, and I feel terrible about
“You know he’s right; most of the people in your office are total morons. You should be flattered that he asked you to do it.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but this task was custom made for a moron. It requires showing up, signing a thing, and taking the book to another building, four blocks away.” I know this is an exercise in pointing out the obvious, but I’m finding Lacey’s openness to being inconvenienced by my boss’s every whim and fancy to be highly unusual, and I’m hoping that my straight-forwardness will help us get to the bottom of it. I mean, after all, he is throwing a wrench in her Saturday night plans, too. Hey, maybe she decided to turn over a new leaf for my birthday. The only other possibility is that she’s thinking if my errand goes late enough, it’ll get too late for us to eat—per her “never eat anything within three hours of going to bed” rule, and she won’t have to buy me dinner at all.
Still trying to make the best of it, Lacey optimistically offers, “Well there are lots of good restaurants in that neighborhood. Why don’t I just pick you up at your place so we can get together at a reasonable time. I’ll run your little book errand with you, and make a reservation somewhere near the Chronicle offices?”
That’s weird, “I never told you it was the Chronicle.”
“You didn’t?” she seems shocked. “Then how did I know? Is it the Chronicle?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must’ve told me. Why would I think it was the Chronicle if you didn’t tell me?” Lacey never seemed like the psychic type to me, she’s too out of touch with the general consensus of the populous. She continues trying to figure it out, “Anyway, you said it was a book. Where else would you have to drop a new book off on a Saturday night, four blocks away, besides the Chronicle?”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“So I guess I was just assuming it would be what it is.”
We realize there’s no point in arguing about it, and also that if we don’t get off the phone and start getting ready, I am not going to be on time for this birthday ruining opportunity, which will only cause it to ruin my birthday plans further.
~
Boy is it easier to get ready for a night out when you haven’t promised everyone you’ll wear a certain dress or color. I get ready in record time. In truth, I think I was more motivated than usual, because I knew that if I kept Lacey waiting, it would be that much longer before I got a chance to tell her all about my amazing night, and I could not wait to tell her about my amazing night!
Lacey shows up, and I get in her taxi, ready to unload my whole story and release all my pent up emotions from last night, when she starts in about her night.
“I can’t believe you left me there alone with Marty, last night. I couldn’t figure out a way to blow him off, so I slept with him.” I look at the taxi driver to check for a reaction to the mention of sexual activity. No reaction. Good, this one doesn’t speak English.
Lacey doesn’t stop to check, she’s still talking, “And worse, I gave him my real number! Now he won’t stop calling me… Maybe I’m just too nice.”
“Nice” is not the first descriptive that comes to mind when you meet Lacey. Fun, ambitious, organized, honest, loyal, hard-working, detail-oriented, indefatigable, unintentionally funny, and her heart is in the right place, but the list of her attributes doesn’t usually lead to “nice”. She’s never mean, but she’s not really nice either. She’s more like a reality check. You want to hate her for the things she says, but when you’re done being mad and you stop to think about it, you realize that she’s usually right. Except about being nice.
On the other hand, I am the one who left her there under Marty’s supervision, so the fact that she slept with him may in some ways be my fault, and I feel terrible about
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