Semantics and Ex-Cons

I’ve pondered over where to start on this post, as some background is needed for you to fully understand the … mortification I placed myself in.  In typical QTMama style, I managed to embarrass myself quite nicely.  In conversations with Chicago Man, he has mentioned to me that he is constantly surprised by my regular daily interactions with my friends.  Whether that be ShaNaNa, Jenn, Random Esquire, Jane Wonder … whomever.  It’s constant, it’s daily.  He said the the only person he has that with at this point, is me.  This made me ponder as well.  I talk to ShaNaNa via text messaging or phone calls everyday.  In fact, it’s every morning at 7.40am and again usually in the evenings.  I talk to Jenn via IM or phone calls almost everyday as well.  Random Esquire and I have gotten into the habit of weekly phone calls, while emailing or IMing as well.  While this may seem like “work” to some, it’s just part of my day and evenings.  I like that.  So, when I received a text from him yesterday stating that I may be the only one he’s in daily contact with, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss seeing a new blog post from me everyday either.  I was lazy yesterday and didn’t write anything new.  I grinned and wrote back that I was busy Monday night chatting with my Chicago Man so I didn’t have time to write the post for my blog the next day.  After I sent that text, I sent another one asking if there was anything specific he’d like to see me write about.  After a bit of banter, he sent me this:

“What about that I’m a reformed ex-con with a huge heart?  I stabbed my ex or something to that effect.”

Now remember, that RE had used this very same verbiage when I was in Chicago.  Apparently I had stabbed my ex-husband and was on parole.

I laughed and wrote back, “Don’t be silly! I don’t sleep with Ex-Cons!” And I hit send.  I HIT SEND.

I’ve not slept with Chicago Man, and granted, I will be staying at his place when I’m visiting.  But DAMN.  Could I have been ANY MORE presumptuous? My mortification at this point knew no bounds.  While it’s understood I’ll be staying with him, it’s not like I’ve told him to run out and buy the biggest box of condoms he can find.  Nor have we really even broached the topic of sex – specifically in terms of us.  We’ve only spoken minimally about sleeping, me of course wondering if I’m going to fit in the nook.

I immediately tried to rectify my situation with a another text … only making it worse.  I finally gave up, after much teasing from my Chicago Man and accepted the fact that semantics has bit me in the ass, yet again.