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" Ben was driving, The National was coming out of his iPod, and the last thing I wanted to do was spoil the mood as we embarked on our super-romantic, bear-free (I hoped) camping weekend. But, I wanted to know what that face meant. The face he made about his dad, from the other night... &amp;quot;So what&amp;#039;s up with you and your dad?&amp;quot; I asked. He hesitated before answering. &amp;quot;There are two Ben Seniors,&amp;quot; he began. &amp;quot;The charming, friendly one that strangers and clients get to see, and the less charming, less friendly one that he saves for his family. Guess which one you met?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;You haven&amp;#039;t met my mom yet,&amp;quot; he continued. &amp;quot;But she&amp;#039;s really temperamental. When I was a kid, I always thought my father was so miserable and absent because of her blowing up all the time. But then they got divorced and my sister and I would go visit, and he&amp;#039;d be the same way. I think he never really wanted a family, or just didn&amp;#039;t like the one he got.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;How were things after I left last night?&amp;quot; I asked.  &amp;quot;He immediately started flirting with some woman at the bar. I finished my drink and went home.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m sorry about that,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;Being disappointed in your parents is hard.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Thanks,&amp;quot; he said, sincerely. &amp;quot;It is. But, I think we need to lighten the mood in here. We need some better road trip music. Can you handle that?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Oh, I can,&amp;quot; I said, getting my iPod out of my bag.  &amp;quot;No Ke$ha,&amp;quot; he warned.  &amp;quot;Gaga?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I can live with Gaga.&amp;quot; What followed was an obnoxiously loud sing-along to &amp;quot;Bad Romance, which ended with both of us laughing so hard we were both practically in tears.  &amp;quot;Thanks for cheering me up, K. That was great.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;It was,&amp;quot; I agreed. &amp;quot;You know what wasn&amp;#039;t great, though? Your singing. Wow.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I told you!&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Yeah, but I didn&amp;#039;t think it would be that bad. I don&amp;#039;t think you hit one note on key. Not one. How does that even happen?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Oh whatever. I&amp;#039;d like to point that for someone who claims to hate all pop music, you sure know a lot of Lady Gaga lyrics.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Lady Gaga transcends pop music,&amp;quot; he explained. &amp;quot;She&amp;#039;s a performance artist.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Yeah, when she&amp;#039;s performing. Not so much on the albums.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I will not have my musical tastes criticized by someone who listens to Ke$sha,&amp;quot; he teased. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m turning the radio on,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;So we don&amp;#039;t have to have a duel between my cheesy pop music and your whiny indie crap.&amp;quot;  Ben laughed and I found an 80s station, which we played the rest of the way. And it is late, and I have to work in the morning, so the rest of our weekend will be in the next post. There will be tent sex! And s&amp;#039;mores! And extreme embarrassment! And maybe, possibly, bears. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a8662/bedroom-blog-052310/>