I dare ya'

Okay, two days ago, Ms. Georgia Peach tagged me and Prata. And, after looking at this, it is sort of a dare. And both of us took Ms. Peach up on her little dare. I know I really did not want to do it, and I am certain Prata was not thrilled about it either. Though he responded beautifully.

I did this – and maybe Prata did as well – because we were sort of dared to do something.

Playing spin the bottle is a dare of sorts. You are all around a bottle and you are forced to kiss someone not of your choosing. Part of this is probably because you want to be forced to kiss someone, part of it is because you don't want to be in control. Some thing with the "5 minutes in the closet." Almost every boy I was in the closet with did almost nothing. A lot of giggling after a moment of quiet terror. And all I wanted was for a boy to cup my breasts.

Then in high school we played truth-or-dare. I sort of did not get the rules, because I always told the truth. Hey, I was a good Catholic school girl; what did I have to hide? I think it would have been more fun to do the dare even if I didn't mind telling my girlfriends who I liked, or what base I reached with Kevin (sadly, first base, and equally sadly, Kevin was not a very good kisser).

Then in college I was doing all sorts of daring stuff, but that was not because people were daring me. I was just out-there, experiencing life.

Then marriage. Is that a dare? Husband didn't dare me, but it seemed like a very daring thing to do. Best thing I have ever done, even after all this time and these mistakes.

Then the dark period. When I had "fallen from grace," I had sort of a girlfriend who we would tell things to one another. Okay, that last sentence seemed like it was in code. Here is what I was trying to say more plainly: When I was screwing every penis that came near me, I found this girlfriend who had similar experiences, and we would tell each other about what we were up to. It was not gossip, per se, because we were talking about our own experiences. It was sort of like a sisterhood of sluts, I guess. And there were only two of us. Hmmmm. Sisterhood seems like the wrong word to use.

Anyway, girlfriend and I would talk about what we did with which body parts involved in what locations. We had some lively discussions. And after a while, we would dare each other. On more than one occasion, I would go to work and girlfriend would dare me to go braless for the day. Which was a big deal because the cash register was on this old desk, so customers would be looking down on us as we took their money. When I went braless, there was a good chance the guys were looking down my blouse that day.

I know you are thinking that I liked the attention – and I really didn't. I just had such a good relationship with this chick that I did not want to disappoint her. Okay, not a lasting friendship really, but one of those feel-good friendships. If you were standing on a bridge contemplating jumping into the icy river water, you would not want her standing by waiting to save you. She probably would have been curious as to the size of your splash, and although she would not have pushed you off, she would have enjoyed seeing you hit the water. Thanks, sweetie, but you wouldn't be earning your wings and you wouldn't care.

She also dared me to wear some butterfly vibrator while working. And I chose not to do that. That was just too strange. The more I think about her, the more I think I will be reading about her in the newspaper. She is the type that might have a dungeon under her house, if you know what I mean.

I had to reread the first paragraph of this entry to figure what I was writing about. I had forgotten – and I was thinking, "Why am I writing about butterfly vibrators and dungeons? Did someone dare me?"