I fantasize a lot. Not always sexually (although a lot sexually...wink wink...wait till you turn 40 and your sex drive explodes!), but I do fancy myself a dreamer.
I dream about what I would do if I won the lottery (too much to list right here, but it includes paying off my bills and the bills of a few select friends and family members while providing a college fund for a few select friends kids since I have none of my own right now and traveling and buying a nice house and a new car and opening my own business...and exhale...).
I think about what I would say if I had the chance to talk to Hot Dad (let's just say it wasn't what I actually said when we spoke because I'm just that much of a lame chicken shit). I think about who I'm going to be in 10 years and whether I'll be married with a family or some old maid living alone (dear Jesus, please NO!!).
I sometimes picture myself in life-threatening situations and pretend that my friends are sad that I may have almost died and all come to visit me in the hospital and that this may just be what that guy needs to finally realize he really likes me... I told you, I'm a freak. But I'm pretty sure I'm not the only freak with a wild imagination, right??
That's always been one of my problems. I constantly think about the future and what is going to happen and what I need to do to make sure what I want to happen, happens. Or, I worry about how I'm going to handle something that I don't want to deal with. I have a very hard time living in the "now" reality. I don't always think that's a bad thing because sometimes my "now" reality really sucks!
Last night I was giving smooches to my dogs before bed and I had a nice long look at my baby girl, Asia. She's getting up there in age, so I started smelling her chubby cheeks and squishing her beautiful face and trying to imagine what life is going to be without that face every day. It makes me so sad to think about life without her, but the reality is that one day, I'll have to deal with it. Just like I'll have to deal with the reality that my life is going to be what it will be. I just have to do my best not to be blinded by my fantasies when reality hits me in the face.
In the meantime, I like to imagine myself as a winner, like that Asian guy who eats all the hot dogs, or Rue Maclanahan, you know, from the Golden Girls.
...wink, wink...
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
I've Picked Up a Stalker
I have to vent for a minute. I've said it before (ok, maybe not here, but I've said it, trust me), people and their narrow minds never cease to amaze me.
Men, in case you're wondering, just because a woman is 40 doesn't mean she can't "breed." Remember the saying when we were stupid teens, "if she can bleed, she can breed!"? Well, it still applies, idiot.
Get ready for a string of cliches: age is just a number; you're only as old as you feel; 40 is the new 30; once you go black, you'll never go back (OK, I threw that one in there to see if you were paying attention...), but you get the picture, right?
I am smart, successful, funny, sexy, caring, giving, and I'm 40. If you're into me, my age won't matter...and if I'm into you, your age won't matter, either.
OK, I feel better now. I had to get that off my chest. Now, onto the stalker.
So I've bitched for a while that I never meet any hot guys at the gym. I'm at the gym A LOT. I go there to work out, not for a fashion show and not to pick up guys, but I always thought it would be CONVENIENT if I met a guy who happened to have one of my interests - staying fit.
You know what they say, be careful what you wish for...well I've picked up a stalker - Cyrus. Cyrus seems nice, but I think he may be a bit of a water head.
He works out a lot and seems to be in pretty good shape. He's always sweating profusely and wears a headband to keep the sweat from dripping into his eyes...(pause for the visual). He talked to me a few weeks ago, which I thought deserved props because most guys don't have the balls to talk to me; not sure why. Anyway, we chatted, I left and didn't think much of it.
Now, Cyrus makes a point to loiter around the gym before my kickboxing class, pretending to stretch out, attempting to chat me up, telling me that he's been to the gym twice that day so he can get in shape like me...(pause for the bullshit).
I will never claim to be in fabulous shape. I'm fit and I'm healthy, but I've got a few to lose and I'm OK with that fact. Cyrus was very sweet to attempt to bullshit me on that level, but come on!
Now he appears out of no where when I'm walking through the middle of the gym and taps me on the shoulder while I'm talking to other girls. It's kind of creeping me out and I'd like it to stop, please. I want to be able to go to the gym and ignore people in peace. Thanks.
See how we girls are? We're never satisfied, are we? Someone is interested in us, we're not interested in them. We're interested in someone, they aren't interested in us. It's a fucking mess, I tell you!
Peace out!
Men, in case you're wondering, just because a woman is 40 doesn't mean she can't "breed." Remember the saying when we were stupid teens, "if she can bleed, she can breed!"? Well, it still applies, idiot.
Get ready for a string of cliches: age is just a number; you're only as old as you feel; 40 is the new 30; once you go black, you'll never go back (OK, I threw that one in there to see if you were paying attention...), but you get the picture, right?
I am smart, successful, funny, sexy, caring, giving, and I'm 40. If you're into me, my age won't matter...and if I'm into you, your age won't matter, either.
OK, I feel better now. I had to get that off my chest. Now, onto the stalker.
So I've bitched for a while that I never meet any hot guys at the gym. I'm at the gym A LOT. I go there to work out, not for a fashion show and not to pick up guys, but I always thought it would be CONVENIENT if I met a guy who happened to have one of my interests - staying fit.
You know what they say, be careful what you wish for...well I've picked up a stalker - Cyrus. Cyrus seems nice, but I think he may be a bit of a water head.
He works out a lot and seems to be in pretty good shape. He's always sweating profusely and wears a headband to keep the sweat from dripping into his eyes...(pause for the visual). He talked to me a few weeks ago, which I thought deserved props because most guys don't have the balls to talk to me; not sure why. Anyway, we chatted, I left and didn't think much of it.
Now, Cyrus makes a point to loiter around the gym before my kickboxing class, pretending to stretch out, attempting to chat me up, telling me that he's been to the gym twice that day so he can get in shape like me...(pause for the bullshit).
I will never claim to be in fabulous shape. I'm fit and I'm healthy, but I've got a few to lose and I'm OK with that fact. Cyrus was very sweet to attempt to bullshit me on that level, but come on!
Now he appears out of no where when I'm walking through the middle of the gym and taps me on the shoulder while I'm talking to other girls. It's kind of creeping me out and I'd like it to stop, please. I want to be able to go to the gym and ignore people in peace. Thanks.
See how we girls are? We're never satisfied, are we? Someone is interested in us, we're not interested in them. We're interested in someone, they aren't interested in us. It's a fucking mess, I tell you!
Peace out!
Friday, September 17, 2010
Plan B
Ask my friends, I've lived all over the place. I used to move about once a year. Wasn't really anything that I planned, it just sort of happened. I got bored or my roommate left or I got divorced. Pick any of the above.
I've lived in some shit holes and I've lived in some really nice places. Currently I'm in a pretty nice place, except for the fact that some douche bag thinks he needs to set his alarm on his Tahoe at 5:30pm...and it keeps going off. I'd like to remind him that we're in Lenexa and he's more likely to see a Johnson County MILF take it in the back door than anyone try to take off in his piece of shit, but whatevs. And, in case you're wondering, it's highly unlikely you'll find a JOCO MILF who will take it in the back door...
I lived in a really kick ass apartment in my early 30's with my friend Kris. We had a lot of fun, threw a lot of parties, and drank a lot of beer on our patio. We lived across the street from the KCPT tower so every winter, we'd play "dodge the ice shard" when big sheets of ice would fall thousands of feet to the ground and crash into pieces. It was a hoot. We had this really cool lesbian named Julie who lived below us. She helped us get rid of a mouse who was unfortunate enough to make its way into our sticky trap, and she threw loud lesbian parties where they all stood outside and sang "The Tide is High" by Blondie at 3am. We loved Julie.
I lived in a not so nice place in Roeland Park after I got divorced. My pipes burst twice in one winter and flooded my apartment both times. Like water pouring out from underneath my doors down the driveway flooding. It was nasty. While residing in said shit hole, I came home from class one night to find two young "gentlemen" loitering outside of my building. I tried to walk inside and pretend I didn't see them, but my super hottness attracted them, apparently, and they started chatting me up.
I played along, chatted back, said goodnight and walked inside; freaked out that they knew where I lived and I had no idea who they were. So, what did I do? What any single girl SHOULD do - I called the cops.
Not like a 911 call, just a call to the local po po asking, "Hey, if you don't mind, would you send a car through here to make sure all is well? Thanks..." So I went to bed and about 5 minutes later, 3 cop cars came blaring in, full spot lights and bullhorns - no shit. Like these guys couldn't figure out who called the cops on them!! Seriously?!
The cops questioned them and then they left and left the guys there, so who has two thumbs and was freaked out all night that I was going to get gang-raped?? THIS GAL!
The place I live in now is nice and has one really nice perk who I like to call "Hot Dad." There used to be two "hot dads" but one moved. Luckily this one is still around and he gives me much pleasure. Not that kind of pleasure, (unfortunately), but pleasure while I watch him my window from time to time...(can you say stalker??) He's bald and rides a Harley and has two cute little girls - thus the name "hot dad." Without the kids he'd just be "hot dude," pssshees.
I moved here because it's nice and I thought I should live somewhere nice while I track down my next husband. I'm not really sure how well that plan is going, so I may have to work on a Plan B... :) But who knows. I still have my super hottness.
Peace out, bitches!
I've lived in some shit holes and I've lived in some really nice places. Currently I'm in a pretty nice place, except for the fact that some douche bag thinks he needs to set his alarm on his Tahoe at 5:30pm...and it keeps going off. I'd like to remind him that we're in Lenexa and he's more likely to see a Johnson County MILF take it in the back door than anyone try to take off in his piece of shit, but whatevs. And, in case you're wondering, it's highly unlikely you'll find a JOCO MILF who will take it in the back door...
I lived in a really kick ass apartment in my early 30's with my friend Kris. We had a lot of fun, threw a lot of parties, and drank a lot of beer on our patio. We lived across the street from the KCPT tower so every winter, we'd play "dodge the ice shard" when big sheets of ice would fall thousands of feet to the ground and crash into pieces. It was a hoot. We had this really cool lesbian named Julie who lived below us. She helped us get rid of a mouse who was unfortunate enough to make its way into our sticky trap, and she threw loud lesbian parties where they all stood outside and sang "The Tide is High" by Blondie at 3am. We loved Julie.
I lived in a not so nice place in Roeland Park after I got divorced. My pipes burst twice in one winter and flooded my apartment both times. Like water pouring out from underneath my doors down the driveway flooding. It was nasty. While residing in said shit hole, I came home from class one night to find two young "gentlemen" loitering outside of my building. I tried to walk inside and pretend I didn't see them, but my super hottness attracted them, apparently, and they started chatting me up.
I played along, chatted back, said goodnight and walked inside; freaked out that they knew where I lived and I had no idea who they were. So, what did I do? What any single girl SHOULD do - I called the cops.
Not like a 911 call, just a call to the local po po asking, "Hey, if you don't mind, would you send a car through here to make sure all is well? Thanks..." So I went to bed and about 5 minutes later, 3 cop cars came blaring in, full spot lights and bullhorns - no shit. Like these guys couldn't figure out who called the cops on them!! Seriously?!
The cops questioned them and then they left and left the guys there, so who has two thumbs and was freaked out all night that I was going to get gang-raped?? THIS GAL!
The place I live in now is nice and has one really nice perk who I like to call "Hot Dad." There used to be two "hot dads" but one moved. Luckily this one is still around and he gives me much pleasure. Not that kind of pleasure, (unfortunately), but pleasure while I watch him my window from time to time...(can you say stalker??) He's bald and rides a Harley and has two cute little girls - thus the name "hot dad." Without the kids he'd just be "hot dude," pssshees.
I moved here because it's nice and I thought I should live somewhere nice while I track down my next husband. I'm not really sure how well that plan is going, so I may have to work on a Plan B... :) But who knows. I still have my super hottness.
Peace out, bitches!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Thinking About You...
I've made a point to not watch TV this summer. I got rid of cable and decided I was going to feed my brain with books versus mindless, meaningless television. I've done a pretty good job; I've read no less than 12 books this summer and will start on 13 tonight. I've only watched TV for the news and for my Sunday morning politics fix, and Redbox movies, but that doesn't count. :)
Well I decided to flip on the tele Friday evening and what was on? The "Stand Up to Cancer" special. One thing you may not know about me; I get super emotional when it comes to TV fundraisers. There is something about a large group of people who get together to support a cause that makes me weep like Jim Bakker when he got busted in a sex scandal. Friday was no different, except that this time it was almost instantaneous weeping.
I lost my beautiful, sweet, funny, step-mother to cancer earlier this year. I've never experienced anything like watching her fade away. I didn't spend every day with her like my dad and step-sister and step-aunts did. They had to watch this awful disease take away pieces of her every day until there was nothing left to take. They are so much stronger than I will ever be and I love them for their strength.
So I sat there for a good 5 minutes with tears streaming down my face, thinking about Paula Sue and telling myself, "Just turn off the TV, dummy! Why are you doing this to yourself?" I did it to myself because I want to always remember this pain. It's the least I can do for the pain she went through and the pain family went through and still go through.
Then, the next day was September 11th. I don't need to say much more than that, right? We all feel that pain and we all know where we were that day.
Don't worry; I didn't sit around and cry like a baby all weekend. I had a lot of fun, too. I toured the Boulevard Brewery, had lunch and dinner with friends, I laughed a lot, watched some little league baseball, and enjoyed the weather.
But I thought about you a lot this weekend, Paula Sue. I love you and I miss you.
Well I decided to flip on the tele Friday evening and what was on? The "Stand Up to Cancer" special. One thing you may not know about me; I get super emotional when it comes to TV fundraisers. There is something about a large group of people who get together to support a cause that makes me weep like Jim Bakker when he got busted in a sex scandal. Friday was no different, except that this time it was almost instantaneous weeping.
I lost my beautiful, sweet, funny, step-mother to cancer earlier this year. I've never experienced anything like watching her fade away. I didn't spend every day with her like my dad and step-sister and step-aunts did. They had to watch this awful disease take away pieces of her every day until there was nothing left to take. They are so much stronger than I will ever be and I love them for their strength.
So I sat there for a good 5 minutes with tears streaming down my face, thinking about Paula Sue and telling myself, "Just turn off the TV, dummy! Why are you doing this to yourself?" I did it to myself because I want to always remember this pain. It's the least I can do for the pain she went through and the pain family went through and still go through.
Then, the next day was September 11th. I don't need to say much more than that, right? We all feel that pain and we all know where we were that day.
Don't worry; I didn't sit around and cry like a baby all weekend. I had a lot of fun, too. I toured the Boulevard Brewery, had lunch and dinner with friends, I laughed a lot, watched some little league baseball, and enjoyed the weather.
But I thought about you a lot this weekend, Paula Sue. I love you and I miss you.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Shootin' Blanks
I know this may be hard to believe, but I have nothing witty to say tonight. I've lost the wit-factor. I'm witless. Lacking of wit. The big wit goose egg.
Basically, I've got nothing to say tonight, so I'll just tell an off-the-wall story.
This one time, in high school, I was at a party (gee, imagine that...). I don't remember who's party, but I think it was in the Platte City area for some reason.
Anywhoo, a very large lesbian woman tried to trap me in a room and grope me. It scared the shit out of me. Literally. I think I may have wet my pants.
I have no idea why she thought I wanted to be groped by her, but I didn't. Not in the least. I mean, there was probably a young hottie there that I would have offered a quick feel to, but she was certainly not on my list of grope-potentials.
OK, that's all.
Basically, I've got nothing to say tonight, so I'll just tell an off-the-wall story.
This one time, in high school, I was at a party (gee, imagine that...). I don't remember who's party, but I think it was in the Platte City area for some reason.
Anywhoo, a very large lesbian woman tried to trap me in a room and grope me. It scared the shit out of me. Literally. I think I may have wet my pants.
I have no idea why she thought I wanted to be groped by her, but I didn't. Not in the least. I mean, there was probably a young hottie there that I would have offered a quick feel to, but she was certainly not on my list of grope-potentials.
OK, that's all.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Awful Foxy...
Why do I find so much pleasure in dropping the "f bomb"? It is so un-ladylike and yet I just don't give a flying fuck!
I was at a Labor Day party last night participating in a rousing beer pong tournament and I stopped for a brief moment when the words, "cock sucking piece of shit" came out of my mouth as I rimmed a cup and missed a shot. I thought to myself, "wow, that was quite possibly overkill," but then I realized that I actually felt a little better post-expletive. How can something so wrong, feel so right, right?
I like to tell the story of how I learned my favorite phrase, "for fuck's sake." Back in the day, I hung out briefly with a couple of Scottish guys who were working on some kind of foreign exchange work program. I couldn't really figure it out other than it was something their company offered and I was really pissed that I couldn't score a gig like that. I would be a HIT in Scotland, I'm almost sure of it!
Anywhoo, they spoke really fast and had really heavy accents (which were really sexy I might add) and they would alway say, what I thought was, "awful foxy!"
Turns out they were actually saying, "Aw for fuck's sake!" Now, that makes A LOT more sense! I'll never forget those guys (whatever their names were) and I'll never forget my favorite expletive, either!
I know there is a time and a place for cussing, and I also know that I may possibly scare off a potential hottie with my potty mouth. But, then I figure if he can't handle my potty mouth, he couldn't handle me anyway, right? Fuckin A!
What about you? What word or phrase really helps you blow off steam? Lay it on me!
I was at a Labor Day party last night participating in a rousing beer pong tournament and I stopped for a brief moment when the words, "cock sucking piece of shit" came out of my mouth as I rimmed a cup and missed a shot. I thought to myself, "wow, that was quite possibly overkill," but then I realized that I actually felt a little better post-expletive. How can something so wrong, feel so right, right?
I like to tell the story of how I learned my favorite phrase, "for fuck's sake." Back in the day, I hung out briefly with a couple of Scottish guys who were working on some kind of foreign exchange work program. I couldn't really figure it out other than it was something their company offered and I was really pissed that I couldn't score a gig like that. I would be a HIT in Scotland, I'm almost sure of it!
Anywhoo, they spoke really fast and had really heavy accents (which were really sexy I might add) and they would alway say, what I thought was, "awful foxy!"
Turns out they were actually saying, "Aw for fuck's sake!" Now, that makes A LOT more sense! I'll never forget those guys (whatever their names were) and I'll never forget my favorite expletive, either!
I know there is a time and a place for cussing, and I also know that I may possibly scare off a potential hottie with my potty mouth. But, then I figure if he can't handle my potty mouth, he couldn't handle me anyway, right? Fuckin A!
What about you? What word or phrase really helps you blow off steam? Lay it on me!
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Spreading Seeds...
The weather has been perfect his weekend, which has taken away some of my surliness; deal with it!
Instead, my usual smart-ass opinions have been replaced with thoughts of appreciation. I appreciate my life, the person I am today, and what it's taken me to get here. I'm here to spread seeds of appreciation...since I'm not spreading any other seeds right now...but I digress. : )
It is hard for me to keep my mouth shut when I see people take others for granted. I see it between two loved ones. I see it at work. I see it between friends. Appreciate the people in your life. They are there because they want to be there and you want them to be there. (Well, maybe not at work...they probably have to be there, but appreciate them anyway!)
Even while typing this, I know that I'm a huge hypocrite when it comes to appreciating my mother. There is years of water under that bridge and I'm trying really hard to wade through it. I swear that I am. It's just a slow process.
OK, enough with the boo hooing. I celebrated one of my oldest best friend's 40th birthday this weekend. With me at the party was another one of my oldest best friends. Oldest isn't really the right word - these two girls have been in my life longer than most of my other friends - that's what I mean.
It was so cool to look back on our lives and think about all of the fun we've had together and, in my case, all of the fun I've forgotten that I had in my life (my memory SUCKS!). We are all in great places in our lives and really great people - see more appreciation!!
Speaking of "fun" that I've forgotten about, another one of my friends brought up a story about my youth that made me laugh because I swear to God, I don't remember one bit of this.
I was living with a goon in my early 20's. This goon was verbally and physically abusive and an all around worthless piece of shit. I was young and stupid and eventually moved on, but while we were living together, apparently the FBI was watching our house because of all of the "activity" at the house!!
She reminded me that I had to go to FBI headquarters and answer questions about this goon and his friends because they thought our house was a possible drug house. Seriously, don't remember anything about that. How crazy is that? Oh, and by the way, I swear I was not living in a drug house. If he dealt, I didn't know anything about it. But now it makes me wonder whether my name is on record at the FBI for some stupid goon that I lived with in the early 90's!!! Geez!
Love yourself, love your friends, and hug a tree. Peace out, bitches!
Instead, my usual smart-ass opinions have been replaced with thoughts of appreciation. I appreciate my life, the person I am today, and what it's taken me to get here. I'm here to spread seeds of appreciation...since I'm not spreading any other seeds right now...but I digress. : )
It is hard for me to keep my mouth shut when I see people take others for granted. I see it between two loved ones. I see it at work. I see it between friends. Appreciate the people in your life. They are there because they want to be there and you want them to be there. (Well, maybe not at work...they probably have to be there, but appreciate them anyway!)
Even while typing this, I know that I'm a huge hypocrite when it comes to appreciating my mother. There is years of water under that bridge and I'm trying really hard to wade through it. I swear that I am. It's just a slow process.
OK, enough with the boo hooing. I celebrated one of my oldest best friend's 40th birthday this weekend. With me at the party was another one of my oldest best friends. Oldest isn't really the right word - these two girls have been in my life longer than most of my other friends - that's what I mean.
It was so cool to look back on our lives and think about all of the fun we've had together and, in my case, all of the fun I've forgotten that I had in my life (my memory SUCKS!). We are all in great places in our lives and really great people - see more appreciation!!
Speaking of "fun" that I've forgotten about, another one of my friends brought up a story about my youth that made me laugh because I swear to God, I don't remember one bit of this.
I was living with a goon in my early 20's. This goon was verbally and physically abusive and an all around worthless piece of shit. I was young and stupid and eventually moved on, but while we were living together, apparently the FBI was watching our house because of all of the "activity" at the house!!
She reminded me that I had to go to FBI headquarters and answer questions about this goon and his friends because they thought our house was a possible drug house. Seriously, don't remember anything about that. How crazy is that? Oh, and by the way, I swear I was not living in a drug house. If he dealt, I didn't know anything about it. But now it makes me wonder whether my name is on record at the FBI for some stupid goon that I lived with in the early 90's!!! Geez!
Love yourself, love your friends, and hug a tree. Peace out, bitches!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Yoooouuu, you got what I neeeed...
I'm not feeling super Spiffy tonight, but I feel like I need to blog anyway. I started this monster, I better keep on riding it, huh?
Dating someone new and trusting them not to stomp on your heart like a little tomato isn't easy. I've been single for 4 years now and I've had my heart chopped into pico several times, but I've picked up the pieces and moved on. I've learned that it's his fucking problem, not mine! : ) Seriously, I'm a pretty kick-ass chick and I refuse to let someone else's opinion of me bring me down...but I digress.
Will I ever get to the point that I'm tired of being disappointed by the actions of others? Tired of putting my faith into someone that "this time, it will be different," and it never is? Seriously, no shit, among other let-downs, I've been stood up on 3 dates in the past 4 months by two different guys.
The first guy I let walk on me twice because he was a long-time obsession of mine and I really wanted to find out if I was missing anything. Turns out I wasn't missing a damn thing because he flat-out ditched me. No call, text, no apologies, and obviously, no clue what he was missing.
The other guy was just an idiot d-bag who apparently got too drunk to pick up the phone and tell me he hadn't left work. (yes...I used the words drunk and work in the same sentence...) Instead he let me sit at the restaurant by myself, looking pathetic for 20 minutes until I just walked out.
Now, you may be asking what the eff my problem is with my choice in men. I only tell you to judge not lest ye be judged, my friends. You don't know what it's like out there!! The pickins aren't as abundant as they were in my 20s! : )
So, do I let the actions of these two schmucks keep me down? Hell no! I use them as fodder for my blog!
In the sage words of Curtis Mayfield, "Keep on keepin on!" My heart is open to the possibility that something better is out there. Not every guy will be afraid of commitment, or like someone else more than you, or think you may be too old to give them a baby, or stand you up, or decide to join the Army, or...my list of "ors" can go on and on.
One day, someone will live up to my expectations and be all that I know I deserve, and I'll be the same for him. I believe that.
Now, being the Spiffy Chick that I am, I can't end this blog on too fluffy of a note, so I'll end it with this - no sleep till Brooklyn, bitches!!
(ok, that's really a load of horseshit...I'm usually in bed by 10...) ;)
Dating someone new and trusting them not to stomp on your heart like a little tomato isn't easy. I've been single for 4 years now and I've had my heart chopped into pico several times, but I've picked up the pieces and moved on. I've learned that it's his fucking problem, not mine! : ) Seriously, I'm a pretty kick-ass chick and I refuse to let someone else's opinion of me bring me down...but I digress.
Will I ever get to the point that I'm tired of being disappointed by the actions of others? Tired of putting my faith into someone that "this time, it will be different," and it never is? Seriously, no shit, among other let-downs, I've been stood up on 3 dates in the past 4 months by two different guys.
The first guy I let walk on me twice because he was a long-time obsession of mine and I really wanted to find out if I was missing anything. Turns out I wasn't missing a damn thing because he flat-out ditched me. No call, text, no apologies, and obviously, no clue what he was missing.
The other guy was just an idiot d-bag who apparently got too drunk to pick up the phone and tell me he hadn't left work. (yes...I used the words drunk and work in the same sentence...) Instead he let me sit at the restaurant by myself, looking pathetic for 20 minutes until I just walked out.
Now, you may be asking what the eff my problem is with my choice in men. I only tell you to judge not lest ye be judged, my friends. You don't know what it's like out there!! The pickins aren't as abundant as they were in my 20s! : )
So, do I let the actions of these two schmucks keep me down? Hell no! I use them as fodder for my blog!
In the sage words of Curtis Mayfield, "Keep on keepin on!" My heart is open to the possibility that something better is out there. Not every guy will be afraid of commitment, or like someone else more than you, or think you may be too old to give them a baby, or stand you up, or decide to join the Army, or...my list of "ors" can go on and on.
One day, someone will live up to my expectations and be all that I know I deserve, and I'll be the same for him. I believe that.
Now, being the Spiffy Chick that I am, I can't end this blog on too fluffy of a note, so I'll end it with this - no sleep till Brooklyn, bitches!!
(ok, that's really a load of horseshit...I'm usually in bed by 10...) ;)
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