In which I discover adulthood is much of the same.

I had lunch today with a business colleague. Doesn't that sound professional? I KNOW. But in the year (plus) we've been professionally associated, we've blended the line between business associate and gal pal.

She's nine years my senior, expecting her second baby, and working my dream job. We agreed to meet today under the disposition that we'd talk 10 minutes business and 50 minutes gossip. I'd like to say that's how it went, but it was more 59 minutes, 48 seconds gossip and 12 seconds of, "OK, so, uh, I'll call you in a couple weeks regarding that (insert my top-secret job detail here)." To which, of course, she replied, "Right. Sounds good." 12 seconds. Flat.

It took about eight seconds for the topic of baby-making to come up. Thirteen seconds after that we "ooh'd and aah'd" over my ring. Another four minutes later I regaled the story of my engagement. Eleven minutes later we giggled about irregular periods and the Nuva Ring, before joking about being on welfare and working as a receptionist (as my future likely holds. Not really, but still. OK maybe. Let us pray).

She'll be on maternity leave come late October, and hopefully I'll be gainfully employed in the Promised Land, happily carrying on with my new life. And also hopefully not on welfare (let us pray). But we'll keep in touch because once I'm no longer gainfully employed here, she's strictly a gal pal - no business about it.

Which then makes it a little less awkward to know a professional with whom I am in constant contact knows I have an irregular period. And also, now you know, too. And for that, Internet, I apologize.

And now I will run away, quite embarrassed.