I shower with the door open, with my mate coming in and out, watching me through the reflection in the mirror. When he repeatedly stops and sits against the counter, I shoo him away and tell him to get dressed when, truthfully, his ogling makes me feel feminine-womanly-and I like that feeling. And I'm sure he can tell.

We aren't perfect by any means, fighting like we did, but I am thankful for how quickly we apologized and well, moved on. My parents arrive within the hour, and the last thing I would have wanted was for David and me to be glaring at each other from across the dining...