My girlfriend and I had our monthly reunion. So many things that have been said and done in our lives over the past month. She went first. The other day in her office at lunchtime she was imagining she was a famous writer of erotic stories and one of her fans dedicated a song that became the most popular song in the world to her. The desire to be worshiped, I guess.

My turn. I love taking long showers. Sometimes it is the only way to get some peace and quiet at home and a good excuse for some me time. Her turn. She had an argument with her partner. Now she can’t stop thinking about it. She plays it in her head over and over again. In her head she always has to win when disagreeing with someone. Her mother in law, her boss, shop assistant. It’s her obsession.

I had to go again. I have my obsession, too. I play ‘mirror, mirror on the wall’ every day and I don’t always like what I hear. I know all my large pores. I can see new sun spots. I’m ashamed to say I have found unruly chin hair. And those new fine lines. I can spend hours thinking about it.

She said this time she had lied to her husband. She told him she had to go run some errands before meeting me when in fact she went shopping for one more pair of shoes she didn’t really need. She couldn’t live without credit cards. I could live without my jealousy towards other women, even though they say that to envy is healthy to a point. But I sometimes get really frustrated. I want to be like all of them… gorgeous… playboy girl… a pop star with perfect genetics. Witty and charming like Audrey Hepburn.

I have a crush. A crush on girls. So does my girlfriend. We ordered another coffee. I complimented her new hair. She smiled and told me it irritated her to know her husband would only notice the effort after two weeks. He, like so many other men, doesn’t have an eye for detail. And then I got a text message. A sext from my lover. A few lines from my favorite erotic tales. I knew that when I’m got home he would be there waiting for me, to grab me, kiss me hard and pinch my butt. We finished our last cup of coffee. Healthy confessions… and necessary reunions.