Posts Tagged kitchen

Chicken Soup for the Surgical Soul

Since my parents were staying with me to help me settle in after a move, I was relegated to the couch. Luckily, my roommate was out of town for work at the same time. Before he left, I asked if he minded if I use his bed.

It was working out quite well for me. Smiles offered me his bed Thursday night, and my roommate was nice enough to allow me to use his the other two nights my parents were staying with me.

We woke early that Saturday morning. We had a lot to do, so we got started with breakfast and began our day.

My mother finished unpacking the kitchen and washing dishes while my father and I got a jump on my closet. Since I had it designed and all the boards were cut to size, it should be a relatively simple project.

We were making good progress when I realized I needed to take a break so I could deliver the chicken soup I made for Smiles the night before. I texted him, “Morning babe. How you feeling? Gonna be home in a little bit? Gonna swing by and drop something off for you. :).” He was awake and responded relatively quickly: “Going to crawl over to see the doctor, then straight home. Should be back about 12:00.”

I asked him how he was feeling since he was in surgery only a few hours earlier.  “OK. Sore, but can move,” he responded. “Will you bring over Tylenol? I can’t go out again to get some, and I need it for swelling,” he asked. I was more than happy to be able to help him. I felt guilty I wasn’t there when he woke up from surgery. I originally planned to, but with the move, it became difficult. Luckily, one of his other friends was able to be there.

I sent him a text letting him know I was on my way, and he responded, “OK. See you in a bit. [My friend] is stopping by to bring me soup :).”

SH*T! I didn’t want her to beat me there with soup. Chances are she made chicken soup too, because who makes anything else when someone is sick or recovering. The race was on. I needed to get there first. I didn’t want to be the superfluous soup. I wanted to be the primary.

I quickly packed up the soup and added some of the brownies my dad made. I ran down the stairs and hopped on the bike. I was off into the tunnel. It would take me only fifteen minutes to get to his apartment. Hopefully I would beat her there!

When I buzzed at his door, his friend answered. DAMNIT! She beat me. I was so disappointed. She came down to let me in since the buzzer wasn’t working. We chatted while we descended the stairs about how we hadn’t seen each other since the Hamptons for the film festival.

When I walked in the door, Smiles was sitting on the couch eating a bowl of soup. I noticed the take-out containers on the counter and realized she didn’t make soup. She’d only brought him soup for lunch.

I showed Smiles the large Rubbermaid of soup and placed it in his fridge. I also told him about the brownies, and he asked me to bring them to him now.

I came into the living room and gave Smiles a kiss. I sat while Smiles and his friend continued their conversation about work. I noticed a very large bouquet of flowers by his bedside and eucalyptus next to the couch in a vase. The arrangement was gorgeous, and I immediately felt guilty and outdone. I know it wasn’t a competition over who cared more about him, but in my warped mind, it was. (I later learned he bought the flowers himself before the surgery since he’d be so homebound).

While sitting and talking, another friend arrived. I was also taking every opportunity to wait on Smiles. I gave him the Tylenol, got him water and cleared his dishes. I learned he was the one who brought Smiles home from the hospital. We’d met before, so I said hi. The four of us sat and chatted a bit about a funny scenario involving Smiles, his straight friend and a girl from the night before.

After a bit, he had to be on his way. The conversation changed from Smiles’ movie project to a new work project he was getting into. I moved across the room to help massage a knot out of Smiles’ back. I was crouching next to the couch in an uncomfortable position, so when I couldn’t take it anymore, I made a move back across the room. Smiles then moved over on the couch and asked me to continue. I was happy to be doting on my man.

The time came where I ha to get back to my parents and moving in. I already stayed past the time I told my parents I’d be back. I’d been waiting for the opportune time to head out. I was under the impression his friend/coworker was going to leave shortly, and I wanted a little alone time with Smiles. When that didn’t happen, I had to bounce.

I kissed him goodbye and told him I’d talk to him later as I made my way out.

When I got home, later in the day, I received a text from him. “Thank you for coming over and making soup. Yay.” I told him I was glad to see he was okay and to think nothing of the soup. “Ya know, those brownies aren’t going to make it to tomorrow. Haha,” he added. We joked about what it might do to his system.

I was happy to see him in good sorts and glad he was surrounded by friends. I was also happy I got to show him how much I cared about him, even though I was insanely busy getting settled in my new apartment. He’s a good man, and he deserves special treatment every once in a while.

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Back On Top

In unrelated news, I came across this video from my fellow blogger, http://www.ty-curious.com/. He shared it with me, and I think it’s spectacular. Totally safe for work! Hope you like it! Take the time to check out his blog too. Great guy!

On with the story…

After my ride back to Hoboken, Smiles and I chatted on Facebook.

He described his drunken night involving too much Patron and a lost iPhone. He hadn’t had a chance to track it down, so I offered my assistance to make some phone calls for him. He was grateful, but had it under control. While he described his night, I described my time out in the sticks with no power or technology. “Yeah… It was a real Amish paradise,” I said.

Once again, I had to facilitate plans with him. He typed, “Okay. Off to go get food. I’m starved.” I quickly replied, “What are you doing later?” I knew it would be difficult getting ahold of him the second he signed off for the day. It’d been a while since I’d seen him, and I was anxious to do so. “No plans, although I may go back to the bar tonight for a Halloween thing,” he declared. I wish he had the same desire to see me to invite me without provocation, but I’ll take what I can get. “Wanna try to get together later?” I asked.

“Jump on the bike and come over and have brunch with me,” he finally stated. I explained the bike was snowed in with a dead battery, but I told him I’d meet him for brunch. I quickly made my way into the city to meet him at the Christopher Street PATH station. I arrived well before him and waited for him to show. I couldn’t call to find out what was keeping him, so I tried to occupy myself with my phone.

When he finally arrived, I wasn’t greeted with a kiss. I could have initiated the situation myself, but again, I was still in the mindset to play a little hard-to-get. We walked to a nice brunch spot neither of us have tried before, Barbuto. It was great. We got a nice seat next to the kitchen, which in most situations is a bad thing, but in this case, was entertaining.

Smiles ordered a beer after wavering between that and a bloody mary to help cure his hangover, and I ordered a glass of red wine. We took the time waiting for the food to arrive to catch up with each other. He was a little quiet, but I had plenty of stories to tell from my time home. We talked a bit about his family as well, and I started to get a better picture of the dynamic going on there.

Our food arrived, and we were both very pleased with the results. After we paid our tab, we decided to walk around a bit since the weather was so gorgeous. We walked to Doma Coffee Shop to grab coffees while we walked around. We had no plan for our day. After we grabbed caffeine, he turned to me and asked what I wanted to do. I told him I was just happy to be out, and it didn’t matter to me what we did. We started to walk around aimlessly. When we came upon Pleasure Chest sex shop, he suggested we pop in. This wasn’t the first time walking into a sex shop with him. I was game.

We looked at all the toys in the place and even asked one of the workers there to explain one of the feminine toys to us. We had more than a few laughs as we perused the store.

We spent the rest of the afternoon walking around SoHo looking for hats to replace the one he lost. I was happy to spend the day with him. We did some shopping for other things while we searched for hats. While I was checking out to pay for the flannel shirt I picked up, I could see in his eyes he was exhausted. He was fading fast. He suggested we go back to his place to take a nap. I myself wasn’t feeling very sleepy, but I rather liked the idea of napping with him.

We got back to his place and climbed into bed. I put on my new flannel and got comfortable. Surprisingly, I passed out rather quickly. He, on the other hand had a hard time falling asleep.

Warning: The following may be too graphic for some. After about an hour, we were both awake. He turned to face away from me, so I decided to make a move. I engulfed him in my arms and spooned with him. After some time passed, I gently began caressing him all over and slid my hand between his thighs. I began massaging him until he turned his head back to kiss me. It was on — FINALLY! Things only got more passionate from there. It wasn’t long before he pulled out a condom, put it on me, and climbed on top. I was finally getting my turn as top dog (even though I was on the bottom). The sex was good, and I enjoyed having sex facing him with the lights on. However, once again, he finished, and I wasn’t able to.

Embarrassment came flooding in.  I was very attracted to him, and I enjoyed the sex, but something underlying wasn’t allowing me to relax and fully enjoy the moment. I was very close, but I just couldn’t get over that last hump (no pun intended). This wasn’t the first time this happened, but it certainly didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

After sex, we both showered and cleaned up. He had plans to meet friends at his favorite restaurant to say goodbye to a bartender friend who was leaving for another restaurant. I was a little curious why he didn’t extend an invitation, but I didn’t want to dwell on it. We made some progress, and I wanted to concentrate on the positive. I was doing my best to play hard-to-get, but I really liked him. I wanted this to continue. I wanted to get to know him more. I wanted to be closer to him physically. I wanted him.

We got dressed and walked towards the PATH and Extra Virgin, where he was headed. When we reached a crossroads, we said goodbye with a quick kiss and went on our separate ways.

Later that night, I got a message from him complaining about having to go to the bar to see if his phone was found. I sympathized with him and wished him luck.

When he got back from the bar, he messaged again to tell me he had no luck. I felt bad for him, but selfishly, all I could think about was how hard it was going to be to get ahold of him without a phone. The next couple of days would pose an interesting challenge.

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