Slumber Party

Clean sheets. Junk-food filled cabnets. Fluffed pillows. Breakfast in the fridge.

I'm ready.

Sixty and I are having our first slumber party Friday night.

And no. We're not doing the nasty. Get your minds out of the gutters. Actually, we had a talk about the nasty earlier in the week.

Now, kids? Listen here. I'm really reluctant to talk about all of this with you. One day, Sixty may know about this blog and I may regret telling you all of this. But this story is an imporant step in mine and Sixty's relationship, and I think you should know about it. Afterall, this blog is called Sandra Dee Dates.

So here goes.

Monday night, I got home from work late. After taking off my sweaty gym clothes and taking a shower, I checked my e-mail. (This is really nothing earth shattering because I obessively check my e-mail about a million times a day, but I digress.) The inbox showed a note from Sixty. "Hey Sexy!" it said. What's this?, I thought.

Talk about surprised. I won't go into detail, but basically what he said was that he was really concerned that all of our hot and heavy sessions were going to lead us to the point where we would both want sex. He was really concerned about this, even thought we'd talked about how we are both waiting until our wedding nights. He was afraid that we were both going to get weak and just give in.

I'm sure he's been wrestling with this issue for a while now - as have I. And as much as I like this dude, you don't think that I was willing to compromise and give in if he wanted to? Come on. I would have. Totally. But Sixty brought up a good point in his e-mail: If we do give in and have sex, we are just going to resent ourselves afterwards for doing it.

Exactly my reasoning behind waiting until I am married. It's not the actual sex I'm worried about - it's the emotional mess of the aftermath that scares me.

So basically, he was wanting to know where I stood on the issue. And I wasn't about to have a conversation like this over e-mail or the phone.

I called him. "Sixty?" I said when he answered. "I got your e-mail."

Nervous laughter. "Aaand?"

"Sixty? I'm going to come over, and we're gonna talk about this okay? See ya in a few."

When I got there, he was waiting on the front porch. We got in his car and drove around. I don't want to blog about all of the conversation, but basically we agreed that we were not having sex. Period.

What I told him was that even if you took all of the sexual tension out of our relationship, it wouldn't matter to me because I would still want to be with him regardless.

And that's the damn truth.

"Did I mention you're awesome?" he said, smiling.

I think he's awesome, too.

And he's so awesome that I'm sharing my bed with him on Friday for a slumber party. Now that we know how far we both want to go, I think we can be adult and mature enough to handle a sleepover.

And maybe even throw in a pillow fight, too.