A single alpaca.

2

This is a story about a girl who didn’t shave her legs when she had the chance in the shower.  And how that stopped her from getting any.

Trevor was the not the end goal.  Hell, he wasn’t even the goal.  I didn’t have one.  I just (surprise, surprise) wanted a beer.  So I went over to the Box and BOOM! I was seated next to Trevor, watching the Red Sox game, and drunk because, well, sometimes just walking into the Box gets you drunk – The eight shots of FireBall definitely had something to do with my drunkeness levels but they never would have been ingested if I hadn’t walked into the Box (see how I just went full circle?).

So there I am, having a great time just hanging out, when Travis turns to me:

“I just got my car fixed.  Got it back for the first time in three weeks today.”

Not the most intriguing first line in the conversation but, hell, it had been a while since Josh and I figured that it could be fun to see where this goes.  At the very least, I would get an interlude from my very plain life.  And I decided to let Trevor slide, despite that opening line.

“Great Patriots game earlier.”

God, he was really making this hard.  I smirked.  He tried again:

“Want to go for a drive?”

Yes, there it was, the question I had been waiting for – my magical evening taking a drive away from the mundane.

I had him drive me to the beach.  And we got there and got out of the car – the headlights illuminating the white pilings up ahead.  Further out on the beach, a group of high schoolers smoked pot, occasionally checking their phones – a blue flickering light created a mini-lighthouse, alerting us of their presence ahead.  Trevor leaned against the front of the car.  He grabbed hold of his baseball hat and tugged it further on to his head.  Somehow I managed to saunter over to him.  He grabbed my waist and pulled me in for a kiss.

The most surprising thing about Trevor was that he actually could kiss.

He continued to kiss me until I thought I would break all of my codes and just have fun with him in the back of his car.  Then he stepped back:

 “Want to go somewhere else?”

I wanted to say yes.  I wanted to go back to his place. I wanted to have a good time.  I wanted to until I realized that I was in desperate need of shaving.

It seriously felt like I had two alpacas attached to my legs.  I just couldn’t allow him to know that I had that situation down there.  I don’t have a lot of pride but, for whatever reason, I have shaven-leg pride.

 So I politely asked him if he would mind taking me home.  He had no problem with it, especially after I lied about having to be up for work wicked early.  So, with a short little make out in the car in between point A and point B, I was home, and my exciting night was over and I was back to the mundane life of watching TV, knitting, and filling out my spinster application with a cat on my lap.

And that, Children, is how my unshaved legs managed to ruin my night.

Always shave.  Always.