I SHALL RETURN!

Last week I attended my 25^th High School reunion where I was filled with the love of old friends and the joyful exuberance of meeting new ones. Back in 1988 I would have never guessed that in my middle age I would share a space with the majority of my fellow Big Mac Grads laughing, drinking, and innocently flirting while shaking my bon bon like a rock star on the dance floor. High School was difficult, no it was more than difficult, it was horrific.

Crap that out – let’s get back to the reunion where all was a shake down boogie good time jam.

Q was my date as per always, my old buddies from the way back hood (Elementary School) were in full loud mouth kick ass party mode and then there were the alum that were unknown to me but somehow it all worked, the party rocked. The vibe in the bar overflowed with joyous frivolity, even the guests of guests who didn’t know anybody were killing it. I can’t remember ever attending a party with such a diverse group of people who all mixed so well. Yes a few of my bullies were there, those mean girls (and at least one guy) who beat, harassed and humiliated me daily for years but it didn’t matter cause ya know why, cause I’m A FUCKIN’ WINNER! This isn’t 1988, I’m brilliant, I’m a hot piece of 43 year old ass and I can drop it like it’s hot so yeah…. it’s all good in the hood.

Since Saturday my facebook friend list has expanded exponentially, I have a lady date with a fellow sassy city chic and I’ve entered a burgeoning titillating flirtation with an alum who failed to express interest until Sunday evening when he was snug home alone – Ughhhh seriously! However he is single, employed and (I assume) has a home SO that’s a bunch of concurrent attributes that have been lacking in my past perspective dates…. to be continued.

The take away - When you get invited to your reunion, go. Go and live your adult life like the superstar that you’ve become, grab asses, be the first one on the dance floor and try NOT to confess to your married 7^th grade crush that he/she was your 7^th grade crush cause THAT conversation gets really uncomfortable surprisingly (really – a surprise?) quickly, or so I would assume. That thing about grabbing asses though, maybe you should refrain from that, I mean who the hell are YOU walking around a reunion physically accosting people, that’s just creepy… don’t do that.

Sometimes Small Things Are Bigger Than Big Things

Several months ago while Sweets and I were dating he engaged a subway panhandler in conversation who announced to us, and the entire subway car, “Sometimes small things are bigger than big things”. At hearing this pronouncement the carload of city slickers took a moment in quiet introspection then joined together in a group smile because we all knew he was right.  Over the past few days my panhandler philosopher’s words have filled my head as I’ve celebrated my 43^rd birthday bathed in happy goodness pouring over me from some of the most unexpected sources.

Going into birthday week I had no plans to mark the day, the thought of a night home alone with champagne, BBQ and a cupcake was feeling perfectly cozy as the cold November weather settled in. However by Wednesday evening this solitary celebration plan was replaced with a Tapas Party due to the back to back texts of Gee birthday celebration enthusiasts, T-Bone, Swason and Friday.

As my birthday dawned I awoke at 5am because I wanted the longest 43^rd Birthday ever. I cooked a

hot breakfast, added spiked eggnog to my coffee, played Britney while shaking my bon bon, glued on long fake eyelashes, zipped up a new SHORT skirt (hey adventure legs), slid a hot red lipstick into my sequined purse then thought about all my accomplishments over the past 12 months. I reflected upon how much my head, heart and body have grown stronger and all the brilliant new experiences that I’ve enjoyed and conquered.  I left the house feeling like queen of the world and it was only 8:45am.

By midday my Facebook filled with birthday greetings from old friends far far away, close friends around the corner and a person or two who I was all, “Huh, I’m friends with you?” Facebook to me is one of those small things that is big, really big. Thinking back to when I started running the support I gained from my friends on Facebook inspired me to go stronger and harder and at times also overwhelmed my heart with warmth.

Loving birthday texts buzzed my phone throughout the day with wishes of happiness, power and adventure for the year to come, even Friday texted me with some sassy birthday business that made me blush and giggle like a tween. Then it happened, my mother called, she never calls, I don’t know why she doesn’t call on my Birthday but I had stopped caring years ago, but this year she called and that small thing was HUGE.

Evening came and with it my tapas and wine party at swank Cata. T-bone, Swason and Friday made for a wonderful threesome even though none of them had ever met before. We feasted and drank and drank and drank until our heads swirled and the patrons at the other tables rolled their eyes in disgust of our zealous merriment.

It was fun, it was lots of fun and as I sat there I couldn’t stop thinking about how so very lucky I was to have all of this. I tried not to gush but I was overflowing with the joy from an entire day of small things. I wanted to thank them, I wanted to thank everybody who had communicated with me throughout the day (and since the following days) but I couldn’t find the words to explain why all these seemingly small gestures were so tender (and Big) to me.

Later that night and into Saturday Friday and I extended the celebration. He is what I need now, what we share is easy and fun. He’s confident, relaxed, cultured, and overflowing with charm; he is also the only man who has ever asked to spend my birthday with me. Seriously, FRIDAY, the guy I met at a bar a few weeks ago is the ONLY man to remember my birthday and ask to celebrate it with me, i.e. small thing = BIG THING. I feel peaceful with Friday, he doesn’t need me to fill an empty space in him, I don’t need to act like the person he wants/ needs me to be, I can just be me and when I talk he doesn’t read into my words or create some odd alternative meanings he hears me and responds accordingly. When Friday touches me or when we cuddle there is no desperation in his hands, he doesn’t grab and grope as others have, as if I was the last woman on earth. With Friday it feels like we are both full people who are complementing each other. As I looked into his eyes Saturday morning I wanted to tell him all of this and how thankful I was but I knew I was on the razor’s edge of being sappy and also talking about “small things” when a guy is naked is NEVER a good idea.

I can’t remember a better November 22^nd due to the fact that all these small things were bigger than big things and I am so grateful to have so many generous friends.

Easy Fun Time

The past few weeks have been killing it big time in Gee world, so much fun and rock and roll sexy stuff that I’m just grooving with exuberance.

Outdoorsy adventure time has been in overdrive, Adventure Girl is not only enthusiastic and meticulous in her planning but she is umm….. me. HOLY COW, seriously peeps Adventure Girl is early for everything, will travel miles/ hours for fun, has the perfect gear (in pink or purple), enjoys a map, a pumpkin ale, lobster and kicking ass on the trail.  She will also spend hours/ days on researching then change her mind 8 times until she pulls the cord, hate to admit it but … that’s me too. We are kicking our friendship into overdrive with a sleepover later this week so that we can hit Storm King Mountain at the break of day then the following weekend we are attending a yoga/ hiking weekend at the Mohican AMC lodge.  Yep, I am fully entrenched in my woodsy adventures, so much so that you can add “sleeping bag” and “trekking poles” to the list of things that UPS dropped off this week.

Now onto the sexy, cause why the hell not. Match and OkCupid are a mess, I log in daily just so my

account stays active but there is NOTHING that I want out there. When I last wrote there were two guys that were maybe meet ups however neither of them ever got in touch, whatever.  But what did happen was a nice little drunken hook up with a uber charming gent at a random pop up local food / beer place in Queens – yeah I didn’t see that one coming either. “Friday” is undatable (unemployed & homeless) BUT he is brilliant, cultured, a great dresser, pays the check, holds doors open and just wants to have FUN. Good lord YES – FUN. Seems like years since I could find a guy who was just down with the F word (and that other F word… word). He’s so not my type, but I’m learning that maybe I don’t have a type, well except for being unemployed, that is SO my type but Friday likes cheese and wine and oh he went to my High School – what? Yep, fer realz. So we hung out twice, had a ton of laughs, a heap of sexy time and if I see him again, cool, if not it was fun and easy, and that’s what I’ve wanted for a LONG time.

I Got The Power

Since last post I’ve enjoyed two Appalachian Mountain Club outings (it should have been 3, but I’ll get to that), I bought a bike and I got back into the game with TWO online dates.

My AMC weekend at Fire Island was joyful, inspiring and just a good old kick ass time with a bunch of people who DO stuff. There were a dozen adventurers however these people were SO active I felt like a lazy nub in a swamp, good thing I at least had my recent 10k victory to add to the accomplishments pile cause otherwise I would have been low lady on the amazing persons totem pole. By the end of the weekend I gained a few more friends, was not presented with ONE summons for the various and innumerable misdemeanors I committed and I also had some bad ass raw inner thumbs from killing it like an Olympic rower in the kayak.

Next up was my first AMC hike in Harriman, it was a gloomy gray day but warm so I pulled on my hiking skirt, deet-ed up and headed on out with great expectations of meeting another set of powerful happy people. Well let’s just say THIS group of AMCers were a little too over confident in their athletic abilities to handle a such a hike and MUCH too underprepared to remain jolly – oh well they all can’t be winners. BUT I did get to flirt with the burly bartender/ outdoorsman group leader for 6 hours and I made a new outdoorsy friend who, like me, is an overachieving newbee wanna do everything action girl.

After the hike I contacted both Mr. Leader and Action Girl, guess which one wanted to see more of me? Yeah, Mr. Leader… not so much. Anyways Action Girl invited me on a 25 mile bike ride along the Old Croton Aqueduct on Oct. 27^th to which I instinctively typed “YES I will do that!” then immediately bought a bike, bike tights, gloves, helmet, jacket, etc… and started riding. Those of you who KNOW me know that all I need is the suggestion of an action for me to get on board and DO it. One of my other AMC palls responded to my admission of being susceptible to gentle suggestion with, “I’ll invite you on a horseback riding and homemade whiskey hike, you'll need a horse, waspy gear and a peat bog!” Damn my kitchen is gonna be tight with my bike AND a pony.

The two internet dates/ meetings were not even worth my lip gloss application. Both men fell head over heels in LUST for me the moment my gams crossed the room. One thought it best to lead with talk of his penis girth while the other just threw caution to the wind and thrust his hand up my skirt and into my crotch. His explanation, he likes to “live in the moment” oh and I was so hot he couldn’t help himself. Now that’s a way to romance a lady. Penis Girth really sealed the deal when he took a call from his mother while I was in the WC so when I returned I was present for his profanity filled regret to his Mother’s invitation to Thanksgiving dinner. I love a man who screams at his mother at a bar – HOT! After hanging up he paused and asked, “So I guess my chances of making out with you right now are kinda low, right?”

There is hope on the horizon, as there always is in my Pollyanna sunshine filled optimistic world, Melba has a cute co-worker buddy (black hair/ blue eyes… yummmm) that she is trying to convince to call me – unfortunately my Facebook awesomeness has less than inspired him to reach out. I gotta start posting photos of me enjoying a chocolate shake and cheeseburger on my couch… not so daunting. AND one of my Mom’s yenta friends has given my number to a local newly divorced friend of the family in hopes that she scores a match, she has done this before with no result, but maybe this time……

Back to my not a hike yesterday. After gearing up and arriving at Port Authority 45 minutes before

my scheduled bus departure I somehow never boarded a bus. Yep me and a troupe of 3 others waited and waited and then waited some more for the 8:15am to Nyack but it never showed. Of course Adventure Girl was waiting for me in Nyack but even after I explained that NOBODY got on the bus I think she assumed I was a numb nut and began to second guess our burgeoning friendship. Proof of my ding-a-ling status, last night she sent me an email with detailed instructions regarding how to access Grand Central Terminal along with the train schedule and an offer to help in any way she can if I have trouble with navigating the train system. GOOD LORD how did I mess this up? I AM THE TRANSIT QUEEN! Damn I am gonna have to be a super star on Sunday. Maybe I should bake cookies?

 

 

Warm Sweet Goodness

There are no words to describe the amount of happy good vibes that I received Sunday (and along the 2 month journey) for my FIRST 10k. It’s difficult to explain the reason why this was such a big deal, because there are so many reasons. Many have to do with my body and finally being able to actually DO the things that I always knew I could do but for my undiagnosed genetic disorder I just couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. Then after going through the weight loss and feeling stronger I was sidelined in 2012 by the three leg operations and lengthy recuperation time which further delayed my opportunity to let this body FLY. Now I’m feeling spectacular, I want to do everything and it is all so new and wonderful that it bursts my heart and my head just thinking about all the things I can– or try - to do.

 

Swason lead me to victory on Sunday with her commanding athletic spirit, her empathetic guidance and her perfectly timed words of powerful encouragement. As we stood shoulder to shoulder in the pack of 1,987 runners awaiting the starter’s pistol Swason and I discussed our pace and agreed that we would stick together if we could, but no worries if we split up.

 

Bang – we were off.

 

I was scared and anxious, I’ve been running this distance for a few weeks but it felt so different. The cement was hard, I missed my last potty pit stop and all these runners looked so strong and elegant. But Swason stayed with me, even though I didn’t turn my head to see her, I knew she was there.

 

I usually jog easily until about 4.5 miles however as I reached mile 2 my right calf began to cramp. As the pain increased I thought I would “run it out” until the turn around at 3.1 but the pain quickly spread through my right hip up to my shoulder then down to my foot. I tried to ignore it, I tried to focus on the traffic lights 6 blocks away, I tried to think of all of you cheering me on and Susan gliding easily over my left shoulder but when my right foot began to burn then go numb the fear of a thrombosis rupturing in my right leg finally convinced my body to stop.

Swason stuck with me as I felt the heavy pressure to complete the full 6.2 miles well up inside. She slowly and calmly led me through a series of stretches as I explained my symptoms. This was an entirely new side of Swason that I never experienced, she was the composed all knowing expert and I was the novice seeking her help. If I wasn’t so focused on relieving the pain and quieting my inner angel of death screaming “YOU ARE GOING TO DIE” I would have hugged all the air out of her – but I don’t think dominators do that, so I didn’t.

 

After the stretching Swason instructed me to walk for 1/10 mile then reassess my pain. I took off at my speed walking pace and moved to the center of the street instead of the right gutter where I had been jogging previously so I wouldn’t interfere with the “real” runners.  After making these adjustments I was free of pain and back at my cruising jog– ya know why? Cause I wasn’t running in the right gutter! Full on rookie move…ughhhh. Yeah, so when the street slopes to the side and there are big metal grates over the storm drains ya don’t wanna run there – lesson learned.

 

At mile 3.1 Swason took the lead at the turn around calling over her shoulder, “It’s shorter on the way back.” I knew mathematically that couldn’t be correct but Swason is the harbinger of truth and a marathon trainee so I accepted her words wholeheartedly as my smile grew wide and my feet welcomed the forgiving softer asphalt of the return trail.

Mile 4 my ear buds revolted, silencing my music and my GPS lady who tells me I'm a running superstar every ½ mile. I tucked the useless cord and buds into my sports bra and tried not to focus on my echoing heavy breathing and the unknown distance ahead.

4.5 miles and I hit my wall, as per always. I felt heavy and slow. Swason had pulled ahead and if I had any extra breath I would have called out to her …. just go…. leave me here…. I’ll be ok. But as my head screamed out to Swason in silence she turned as if sensing my psychic cry and yelled out “Only one and a half miles!” Swason's  words were perfectly timed, she didn’t have to say “You can do it” because I knew she was certain I had the power to conquer the next 1.5 miles and then I thought of T-bone’s beads on my laces that spelled out “Glew” “Strong” and I pumped my arms and pushed my legs.

Swason remained a few steps ahead, guiding me closer to 6.2 miles. When the 6 mile marker sign came into view my emotions erupted, stunting my lungs and clamping my throat shut. I gasped twice finding no air then I focused on the back of Swanson’s left shoulder, her gate was relaxed and steady, I wanted to feel that. My lungs loosened and I was back in the game just in time for a recreational runner, who was heading towards me in the opposite lane, to give me a massive high five as he yelled out, “You’re almost there!”

Swason and I crossed the finish line at 1:12:13 just as we began, shoulder to shoulder with broad smiles and laughter (me with tears). The announcer sang out our names like a European football announcer calls GOAL-A GOAL-A GOAL-A as my mom eagerly rang a cowbell, tooted a duck call and held a sign exclaiming Swason's and my awesomeness. We were awesome… we are awesome and so was my mom with her generous spirit, unending support and superior effervescent cheer leading.

10K Sunday ended with a celebration French Toast brunch attended by Mom and…. Sweets. Yes Sweets and I didn’t work as dating partners, and yes things were said and done that filled my head with crap but we are working really well as friends.  Sweets has always been a champion of my physical achievements and while dating not only did he introduce me to scores of new activities while never doubting my ability to conquer challenges but he named my gams “Adventure Legs”. Sweets also was the first to tell me that my strength and power were worthy of a 10K and supported me wholeheartedly throughout my training. Sweets understood what Sunday meant to me, it wasn’t JUST running 6.2 miles, it was bigger than that, it was the sum of all the parts.  Sweets and I never unpacked our emotions and shared our lives, but somehow he got it, he got that this 10K was bigger than a race and it was wonderful that he desired to share in the glory of my big day and eat my leftover bacon and french toast.

Redemption Run

I’ve borrowed my title from Swason’s running blog, recently she found redemption in a glorious run following a spirit breaking unsuccessful workout and I this morning was redeemed by my run after being bogged down in un-dating gunk.

I fell in love this morning with my city, my spirit and my body. The moon was electric before dawn; its startling white light pierced my heavy drapes welcoming me to the day at 4:45am. I stretched and prepped and hoped that 56 degrees would not feel SO shockingly awful.

When I pranced down my bock in the cover of early morning darkness I felt like an authentic competitor, a true athlete and I filled with pride at the strength of my legs and lungs. I headed west a few blocks as the black sky morphed into deep purple and the moon turned a creamy ecru. Once again I switched direction and now facing east I could see the dawn breaking ever so softly as my muscles warmed and my feet sprang forward.

  

Mid run I circle around two ‘garden’ blocks flanked with tidy post war brick homes. The streets are desolate in the early hours allowing me the opportunity to run on the forgiving asphalt through a tunnel of giant leafy trees. I circle 4 times in my private urban forest glen until the sky bursts with color and I take off due west.

My city was decked out for me this morning; she glistened in golds and pinks. Her skyline was shimmering as the moon, my moon, posed like a giant pink grapefruit directly behind the Empire State Building’s spire and the silvery elevated train slide by reflecting the amber of the warming sun setting it aglow like a mechanical comet across my most beautiful city scape.

I ran fast, faster than I ever had at this distance, it was all good, everything was fitting.

My final push is up a hill, an arduous task that covers ½ mile and reduces my pace to a fast

walk, but T-bone said it's good to run hills so I do it. I thought of my first run just weeks ago when the Greek Yaya cheered me on as I melted into the sidewalk and the LL Cool J celebrity double who flashed me the brightest smile, tossed me a thumbs up and shouted “YES”, the super in the building next door who after every run welcomes me to my block like I was a victorious Olympian, and then I thought of you, all of you. All of you who have cheered, supported, and offered up most wonderful advice. I thought of all the emails and texts I’ve received with words of encouragement and confessions of wanting to get back to doing ‘something’ and feeling inspired by my enthusiasm. I thought of all that good stuff and I choked up, as I’m doing now as I type this. My throat tightened and my lunges seized as the happy tears filled my eyes and gratitude filled my soul. From my dearest friends to strangers on the street you ALL want me to succeed and I thought….. why the HELL do I care about these idiotic strangers on these maddening dating sites? I have so many wonderful people in my life who can make my heart burst with happiness just by the mere thought of them. Red was right, I need to pause the internet man search.  I do not deserve to feel dejected and heartsick because of these mysterious non-existent men, I have to get off the dating sites and just live for a moment. I do feel that if I’m not looking for my datee then the parade will pass me by but the alternative is too destructive, I’m too strong and powerful for this nonsense – I'M A RUNNER!

At mile 5.5 with my new non-dating plan tucked into my silky running shorts I swallowed back my tears and thought WWSD (what would Swason do) well she would say, “G if you die of a happy tears induced asthma attack I will kick you in the face.” BTW -Swason has repeatedly threatened me with this remedy over the years regarding a diverse set of problems and it’s always worked. So I did it, 6.3 miles at my best pace ever and you all were there with me – redemption is MINE!

I ain’t gonna lie – No actually I am

On Friday I was overwhelmed with frustration due to my lack of dating prospects. Last fall my dates were low quality but they were still dates. Being a pragmatic problem solver I compared my 2012 dating profile with my 2013 profile and discovered whamo, I am an idiot, I’m being fully truthful in my posting.

 Last year I posted a truthful profile requesting a casual good time with an adventurous man. Sweets jumped on board, I got what I wanted  and it was tons of fun. We both agreed that we didn’t want a serious relationship, just sex and fun, however after 7 months he informed me that he was the only one who wanted the non-committed funtastic dating scheme, I was actually lying to myself because I deserved a serious relationship which unfortunately he couldn’t give me AND even if it was true that I only wanted a good time part time guy and that I was telling the truth when I said I would be cool with him dating other women he couldn’t give me that either because he was so stressed out with “life issues” that he shouldn't date anybody. Ok fly be free Sweets, it was a fun run and even though 3 weeks ago you said we were so amazing together that you didn’t want it to end and that you would work at making time for us to do things, I respect your honesty after an apparent serious self-reflection process.
 
I watched him walk away and for a moment I felt happy and relieved that he broke up with me to focus on mending his messed up life. That moment of contented sympathy was short lived cause it was all a lie. The truth was while he was dumping my juicy fun time no strings attached ass that comforted him through his miserable winter and spring he was already head over heels courting another woman. Newbee isn’t involved in a non committed fun time casual dating situation, she is participating in a serious exclusive relationship. Is that what he wanted all along? Why didn’t he say anything? I thought we were on the same page? What was with the LYING?! I thought I set up a dating scenario where lying would be obsolete, he was free to do whatever he wanted (just not throw it in my face or take away from my adventure time) yet oddly even with that loosey goosey setup he infused our dating situation with a heap of lies including the night he broke up with me.

Anyways back to internet dating. After the dump (before the lying was exposed) I thought, thank goodness for Sweets, dating him was a wonderful learning experience for now I knew what to ask for when penning a dating profile.  I still wanted fun as per 2012 but I needed to weed out the guys who like Sweets were “unavailable”. So I crafted a truthfully honest posting that stressed how dating was a serious priority in my life and not only did I want a ton of raunchy romping I also wanted outdoor adventures, cozy evenings cooking together, wine tastings, brewery tours, seaside afternoons with BBQ and bonfires, days spent sipping champagne watching polo or sailing, mountains with snow and bright city nights dancing into the wee hours, I wanted shared experiences with a partner who could openly incorporate me into his life so I could shout from the roof tops, “I’M PART OF A RELATIONSHIP!!!” I was not interested in getting married or having children, I just needed a man who could share his time with me because I expected to DO things with him.

 Then I let the truth sit out there, and sit and sit and sit.   I’m into week 6 now and I’ve gotten nothing, not even a glass of wine with a lame ass guy. Last week I received this response from a perspective datee, “I read your profile, you seem cool. How much of it is lies?” Huh, what?Why would I lie in my posting? Who does that? Well according to this guy, EVERYBODY does it, guys, women, everybody. It’s just what you DO. CRAP now you tell me! I know I am not savvy to the whole relationship thing and I’m an eternal optimist but I didn’t know I was SO behind the eight ball. New plan….

Maybe this truth thing is a fools game? Maybe I need a new truth, a truth that is not so truthful if my goal is to date a man in the Metro New York area.

I say FUCK that truth, toss out all that time sharing and 'doing" stuff. Who needs my truth, obviously not the men reading my profile. Fine I will change my truth; I will say one thing and do another to get what I want.  You want kids? You want to be married? Hey so do I!  I’ll make it really easy, strip away everything else and just lay down this truth – Truthfully I need a cocktail and some major canoodling  - full stop.

I can lie to myself and  be perfectly happy having a good time with a charming man who pays attention to me when we are together, makes a date and keeps it, and when we are apart I couldn’t care less what he’s up to, secrets are good. Just ignite my emotions with your passionate words, paw at me hungrily with your meaty hands, kiss me deeply with soft lips, don't drive me crazy with manipulative confusion, and ravish me on your Manhattan rooftop.

Everybody says that I deserve more, FUCK YES I DESERVE MORE but that doesn’t make it true or real. I’ll pack away that goal of doing fun outdoorsy stuff with a date; I can fulfill that goal with my AMC group or friends. I’ll cook my own dinner while I shake my booty to my Salt N Peppa Pandora station in my kitchen and I’ll cuddle my couch cushion -it's not the same as a man and it sucks but it's the real honest truth. 

Unfortunately I’m a combo of realism and impatience, the guy who may be everything for me all the time MAY exist but dang if I know where he is and when he will show up.  In the meanwhile I can’t just sit around and wait; there is FUN to be had. Yes a healthy balanced dinner is what one deserves but if all I have is ice cream then I'm eating it. I'm not going to sit here and starve on principal because the optimal nutritional option is out of my reach.

I'll compartmentalize, hot sexy stuff with part time whomever and "doing" stuff with the social groups. SURE in a perfect truthful world there would be one guy who could fulfill both my dating goals (and take out my air conditioners) but for the past 20+ years that guy still remains a pipedream. I'm up for joining the dark side, enough with this wide-eyed innocent  transparent truth crap,  I'm hopping on the liar train. Every guy who has contributed to my dating/ hook up/ fun time/ history has been a liar and they are all in committed relationships, I don’t know why I’m fighting it.  I’ll lie to myself about what I need and deserve and I’ll lie to my dates as well cause as far as I can see the liars have much more fun and I can’t wait around another 20 years for fun.

I will always remember my conversation with Dr. Head after my first date with Sweets. 

Me: "I think he is lying to me."

Dr. "Why?"

Me: "He tells me all kinds of things that that make me really happy. He's in sales so I feel like he's studying me and saying the things that he should say to catch me."

Dr."So, he says things that make you happy, why would that be a lie? Maybe he just wants to make you happy."

Me:"I don't know, maybe he does mean it?"

Dr: "You will never know for certain. Just enjoy the nice things he says until you don't."

Dating Should Feel Easy...

…like a monkey driving a speedboat.

WHY is it so difficult? No don’t answer that, I know why it is so difficult because I cannot control the universe or foretell what my future will be and THAT is what eats at my brain. Truly if I knew for a fact that I would be dateless for 1 month, 1 year, 10 years but THEN I would be with an amazing gent who knocked my sox off THEN I could just exhale sit back and let the waves of the world wash over me until the moment that I rein victorious in my endless search. But NO that is not how the world works, there is no pre-set plan, I have to make my own plan and good gosh damn it – I just wanna shake somebody!

Ladle into that barrel of monkeys that you call a head and scoop out and image monkey.

Oh image monkey bring him to me. Use your wise monkey magic that churns beneath your mini fez to reveal the time that I can STOP trolling the internets in search of my guy.

Now let that image monkey drive a speedboat and you…. you water-ski behind it!

Yes, I’m there monkey, drive faster. Tow me to a place where my weary head and heart can find peace and adventure – yes adventure is peaceful when you are a restless soul as me. I CRAVE movement and change and travel and action – and there lies my next problem - it’s the energy. If I was a lame toad on a log I would be very content in a plodding life but I am not SIR!

Side note – I think I want – no – need a grilled cheese. Yes a grilled cheese will fix this and well maybe some sliced tomato. MONKEY?! I’m taking my pants off and lighting the torches.  Bring me the toasted melted cheese sandwich, posthaste!

 

I found shelter on the speedboat and I thought here’s where I belong, just me and my speedboat, Merrily We Roll Along.