Bamboo puncturing the skin

I spent a good half hour this morning wishing I could find some earplugs, but at the same time strangely intrigued and curious.  One of those situations where you don’t want to watch but you can’t look away.  Except I wasn’t watching, just listening.  Fortunately.  Listening is already creepy, watching would be going too far.  Cindy and Jayson were having sex.  Loud sex.  With apparently no concern whatsoever for the fact that Guy and I are here and we can hear everything.  I guess it’s good that they aren’t ashamed.  It’s not like we don’t know they do it.

Actually, knowing them as I do, I suspect that Jayson was horribly embarrassed at all the noise Cindy was making.  And I’m sure Cindy didn’t think anything of it.  

Guy and I were going about our lives, trying to pretend it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it really was.  At one point, after hearing "harder! harder!" from the bedroom, Guy turned to me and said jokingly complained that I never ask for it harder.  This isn’t even close to the first time we’ve had to endure this, and it never becomes any less unpleasant.

They emerged from the room a little later, Cindy with a big smile on her face and Jayson looking sheepish.  

Cindy has recently quit smoking, again, because she is pregnant, again.  It’s funny that I know her mannerisms well enough that I could clearly see how badly she was craving one.

Guy and I are having Thanksgiving lunch with the family this Thursday and then taking off to Provincetown for a nice little vacation, just the two of us.  Then we can have some loud sex of our own.  We have very little sex lately, which I thought was supposed to happen after the wedding, not after the engagement.  I can honestly say that when we do have sex, every two weeks or so, it’s worth the wait.  

The wedding planning hasn’t really happened yet.  I just don’t feel like thinking about it after I finish a long day of school and work and then housework.  When I do get some time to myself in the evenings, I find myself researching gender reassignment surgeons instead of thinking about the wedding.

There was a rescue at the pool last weekend, and me and one other lifeguard pulled a young girl from the pool and performed CPR.  It’s usually only one guard at a time at the pool, but we were near a shift change and fortunately there were two of us.  It was good to not be alone in a life-or-death situation.  This is the first real thing I’ve done there after 8 months of working.  Probably a good thing, I’d be worried if we were doing rescues everyday.

But it made me feel really good about myself afterward.  Endorphins or whatever.  This is why I can’t stop working at the pool.  There’s nothing else in my life that makes me feel that way.  Like I’ve actually done something that mattered.