Sleepovers

Sweltering heat opened the workweek. That statement presumes you work a conventional schedule.  After another glorious weekend with close friends, donning the boy façade moved my tolerance for this charade one step closer to impossible.

Sleepovers; I envied the girls when they talked about sleepovers.  That is something not only unheard of but something no self-respecting boy would ever proffer to one of his dudes unless of course he treasured relentless castigation and possibly other unpleasantries.  Offering a sleepover to one or more of the girls was a fantasy.  You know what I mean.  The consequences, potentially disastrous, might have been worth the risk.  That conclusion is based upon the dearth of knowledge about the pathway.

There was no pathway; no exit from the life thrust upon me.  There was no Monte Hall with the jacket, that probably doubled as a picnic tablecloth, offering options – precious options.  We weren’t granted options.  Take the roll of cash with the hundred dollar bill on the outside or door number one.  Sound familiar?  I’m sure it does.  Modern day court jester was not my idea of how to traverse whatever life bestowed upon me.  But the thought of dressing like a young lady with all the trimmings that accompany girls in discovery mode brought enticement for my mind to wander off the reservation.

Yes there were physical boundaries.  Damn them and the horses that carried them to my life.  But my imagination, as surely as yours, gave me the opportunity to transcend temporal restraints.

Two sleepovers; one as the hostess and one as the guest broke tepid monotony and welcomed me into the oasis that is my femininity.  Here I sit sharing the fruits of my memories; my heart filled to overflowing and all the reserve emotional tanks topped off.

The past weekend is going to be a precursor to the coming weekend.  Taking liberties afforded for diligent pursuit of my professional responsibilities, my workweek will end on Wednesday.  Another girlfriend is providing the opportunity to play hostess.  Where is my black jumper and those three inch Nine West black leather heels?  I hate it when I misplace the outfit.  More on the extended weekend plans in another writing.

Suffice it to say sleepovers are not only part of my vocabulary, they occur regularly and deliver satisfaction in bushels and pecks.  Remember the old saw?  Topping off the coming weekend will be extended time with my love.  She has been patient with me; geographic constraints something we acknowledged and agreed to manage – at least for a while.  Seeing her makes me wish Tuesday and Wednesday were already in the past.  But absence… I’ll save you the trauma of another quaint phrase.

Stay cool, calm and collected.  Oops, I did promise didn’t I?

Love and hugs, Nikki DiCaro