coquette.

"Will no one at this table blow on my dice?"

You'll have to forgive us, but it was towards the end of the night, so we all had a few giggles at that.

A couple hours before, when it was still at the beginning of our company's casino night, Lauren was standing next to me at the Craps table. It was her turn to roll, and she asked me to blow on her dice. For luck, or whatever. Something deep inside me said Absolutely Not, and so I gave her a funny look and said no. She persisted. I sighed, and gave a half-hearted blow in the direction of her outstretched hand. I figured I would just get it over with, and then we'd all be free to continue enjoying our gambling. I was wrong. A few rolls later, she wanted me to blow on her dice again.

I've been trying really hard since then to figure out why I was so resistent to blowing on the dice. Now, if a man (other than Josh) asked me to do that, it would be inappropriate, but I'm not quite sure how. Is it the puckering? The hot breath? You wouldn't have much of a case in divorce court, and it probably wouldn't even be worth fighting with your boyfriend about, but something about it is too intimate for me to be comfortable doing it with any male but my significant other.

It's entirely possible that I am a prude.

But this wasn't a man, this was another woman that I work with. We were at a company holiday party, playing Craps. I really, really did not want to blow on the dice. At that point, the intimacy was not the issue. It's just that the whole thing seemed geared toward drawing everyone's attention to two women doing something vaguely sensual. It was flirty. I don't care if Lauren acts that way, but I do not want to be drawn into it. I do not want that kind of attention, particularly not from my coworkers.

When she asked the second time, I realized that my earlier policy of appeasement had been ineffective. I needed to let her know that I wasn't down with this. She had no intentions of making me uncomfortable, and she probably didn't even realize that I was. I have to assume that she likes that kind of attention, and just as I can't imagine why she would, she can't imagine why I wouldn't. But seriously, I needed to put a stop to this. So I said no.

She pleaded. I remained firm. I sought out sympathetic glances from those others at the table. You see what I have to deal with?

At this point, I was dug in. It's been a week or so, and I've had some time to think about why I didn't want to blow on the dice. But at that point, all I felt was resistence. I shouldn't have to say no more than once. I was about to tell her that there was no point in continuing in attempting to break my resolve, because I am a stubborn, stubborn woman.

But then I looked at her and saw that she was dug in, too. Whatever inside her told her that having me blow on her dice was a good idea was telling her to keep pushing. I imagined this going on and on, my coworkers increasingly irritated. Already, I was tired of it. By drawing this out, I was making the spectacle worse. I sighed and blew on the dice out of the side of my mouth while rolling my eyes. I like to think that it was the least sexy dice-blowing ever.

When it was her turn to be the shooter once more - you guessed it - it started all over again.

"Why won't you blow on my dice?"

"You just want someone else to blame if you get a bad roll. Then it's my fault, rather than yours." A-ha! This was a major point for me.

"Will no one at this table blow on my dice?" she wailed, and we all laughed. See? If it's not vaguely sexual, then why does it make us giggle like seventh-graders? She was embarrassed, and I felt triumphant. Then I felt bad for feeling happy at her discomfort. Then angry that she put me in the position in the first place, when I was just trying to enjoy a nice game of Craps, a game that I enjoy very much and only play once a year. I wondered why her insistence matched my resistence, and why either of us were acting this way at all.