Ashlyn--Busy girl

Even a waitress can have a hard week at work. Sure, there are busy nights, but a busy week is rare. The problem was a little more than half of the wait staff caught the stomach flu that has been going around. Suddenly I was picking up everybody’s shift. Oh well, I like to be busy.

I think my being busy has been harder on Matt than it has been on me—he’s just about called me every day. We’ve gone out twice more since Valentine’s Day and we kind of did a repeat performance of Valentine’s night. I wonder if it’s normal for a woman to enjoy sex and be frustrated at the same time? What’s really annoying is he keeps telling me “you were amazing” and seems totally oblivious whenever I don’t have an orgasm. When we had lunch together, I kidded Art about Stewart being “selfish in bed”—maybe it’s me who is sleeping with someone selfish.

Or maybe I’m not doing something right—I’m still figuring out how to be a member of the pink team after all.

And speaking of figuring out how to be a woman…

I like taking the T. (That’s the subway, for anyone reading this and has never been to Boston) Where I am from, Dallas, they are still in the early stages of getting public transportation—so nobody uses it yet. But here in Boston, just about everyone rides the T at some point. With the exception of walking in the cold to and from the station, the T is very convenient. I have learned I can’t take the T during “rush hour” hours. When everyone is trying to get home and the subway cars get so full that people are standing shoulder to shoulder—I find guys get very handsy. I tend to dress not so conservatively, so I am used to getting stared at. That’s looking and not touching, and as a former guy I can appreciate the need to give an attractive woman a once over. The groping however, is not so cool. It bothers me so much that if a subway car is too full I’ll just wait for the next one—which is crazy when you think about it. It’s the year 2007 and a woman has to wait an extra twenty to thirty minutes sometimes because perverts can’t keep their hands to themselves in public places.
Hmph. I spoke to Jessica about the scooter I received from my secret admirer, and she recommended not keeping it—but if it keeps some strangers hands off my ass, I may consider keeping it and using it.

BTW—Jessica is coming to visit around St. Patrick’s Day. I told her she could sleep on our couch and we could hang (and discuss the Trading Post Inn and my secret admirer) whenever I wasn’t working—which will be a lot. The radio station I do promotion work for time to time has hired me to be a part of their St. Patrick Day festivities. Apparently my red hair, green eyes and fair skin screams St. Patty’s day.

--More later,

Ashlyn