Friday Night Story

I'm sorry I got caught in your house

I could make excuses; I suppose for our friendship, perhaps I should. But I never intended any of it.

You've never met Rachel (at least, not before today), but she's different. In a good way, I think, today notwithstanding.

We've been together a month, so yes, we're still in the "like rabbits" phase of it. The other day she was looking at my keys, and realized I had more on the ring than she might have supposed.

She asked why that was; I told her I had keys to mother's, and my father's, my grandmother's (who's since passed, though my brother lives there now), and of course, to your house. That took some explaining, actually, because she knew better than to believe when I left it at a family I'm friendly with's home. But she wasn't mad, either, when I told her I dated your daughter; she was actually sympathetic when I explained how bad it had gone.

But perhaps that's because the idea had already struck her: to have sex everywhere my keys could get us. It's been the most exhausting week of my life since.

My mother's house wasn't too difficult, you see it's not that large. My father's house, on the other hand... Suffice to say my knees still hurt. And my hips. And my right pinky toe (which is a story all itself). My grandmother's/brother's house was easy after that; all we had to do was bUy him a case of beer and he cleared out for the day.

And then we came to your house; obviously, I was getting to that. We started in your daughter's room; I think actually being here, Rachel got a little... competitive. Then she asked where else I'd been with your daughter in the house. Check off the main shower and the master bedroom (before you moved in, actually, which I know, makes it a little creepier, using your dead father's bed). We hit a snag with the pool table, since you guys sold that, and then turned the pool room into your other daughter's room, but um, we improvised.

And of course, from there, you know we ended up here in the kitchen. So what I'm saying, I suppose, is I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I'd been meaning to give the key back ages ago, but somehow, I could never bring myself to come over, for fear well, you know who might have been here. So there, take back your key; I appreciate the sentiment, but I've had it too long as it is.

Of course, I'll stop by some time, next week, with some donuts; and of course, that time I'll be wearing pants. But thank you for being so understanding about this (and thank God I keep my work keys on another ring).

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