Cougar

“I’m fucking bored!!”

I texted Highway Guy, on a Tuesday night. This was my day off. And I found myself bored the entire day and maybe even a little lonely. I needed some social interaction.

“I’ve been thinking I might like some of that almost full handle of vodka I left over there,” I said, referencing the left overs from our last night of fun, which happened just 4 short days before. We had been texting last week, and planned to see each other on Saturday night. However, Friday night had rolled around, and he dialed me up to come hang out that night with him and his sister instead. “Can you bring a bottle!?” his drunken sister yelled in the background.

The last few times I came over I have brought something to share. And, I drink a lot of it. Typically when I go to parties I leave whatever is left over as a parting gift to my host. It’s not a big deal and I know that leftover booze found in the morning when I have had to clean up from a party of my own are welcome gifts. Plus, it seems kind of cheap to take a half empty bottle with you when you leave. My college days, when I had to scrounge for liquor and liquor money (and take home half empty bottles), are over. I have room for a little more class in my budget these days.

But, I had left 2/3 of a handle, and almost a full bottle of cranberry juice, which the sister had promised to keep until the next time I came to party. Which, of course, became the perfect excuse for quelling my need for social interaction on a boring Tuesday night.

“I drank it.” Highway Guy texted back.

“WTF!? Dude fuck you!” I wasn’t really mad about the booze as much as I was that he drank it without inviting me to share. I liked Highway Guy. And, I wanted to see him and have fun with him–he is the closest thing to a good friend in town that I have. He would be the perfect FWB I was looking for, if only he would comply with my demands and answer ALL of my texts instead of just some of them.
It was time to let the bitch out of the bag. Because, heck, it seemed to work well for me before!

“You only invite me over to bring you booze, then you ignore my texts. No wonder it is so hard to find good friends!!!”

“WTF?”

“Yeah, I’m pissed. And I kind of feel like that, ok? So please, correct me if I’m wrong. You wanna be fuck friends, that’s fine. But don’t just use me and forget to be my friend.”

“I’m sorry”

I ended up calling him after that. He had been talked into drinking with his sister that night (gee, do these guys ever stop?), and apologized to me. I told him the least he could do is buy me another handle and call me next time he wants to drink my shit, so at least I can join him. Then, once amends were made…or more like, I laid down how things were going to be…we decided to meet up. He offered to come here, since I always go there, but I insisted I go that way because I didn’t want him driving all that way having already been drinking.

“Did you drink all the cranberry too?

“I drank that, too.”

“Oh, lord. It’s a good thing you are good in the sack. Or, at least I think you are…from the parts I remember!” I’m always under the influence when I’m with him. And, I’ve yet to orgasm for him because of it, and I forget some parts of our encounters because of it, too! But I do remember a good portion of it, and I always remember that I fucking love having sex with him.

“It’s a bribe,” he joked.

“Wtf, why am I always the sugar momma?! You should be getting me drunk!”

“Then maybe you should dig for a sugar daddy.”

“I don’t need one. I’m an independent and successful woman.”

“And I’m a broke college student with a baby.”

“Gee. LOL I’m a fucking cougar.”

I’m pretty sure being 26 doesn’t qualify me for cougarhood. And, he’s only 4 years younger than me at 22. But, when I stopped to think about where we both were in life, the situation seemed the same. I live a comfortable life. I have money in savings, my bills are paid, I drive a nice car and I got my shit together. He is truly a broke college student. And, I remember being that myself when I was his age, and it seems like I’ve walked a long road since I was in those shoes. Hell, I’ve even been married and divorced since then!

It made me feel a little better, once I truly thought about it. If he could afford to take me out and booze me up, I’m sure he would. He was always very accommodating of me when I was around him, and I often refer to him as my knight in shining armor because he stands up for me and is the kind of guy I could take with me when the day comes that I have to hash out divorce stuff with my ex. He could be my bodyguard. That’s his values, too.

And, to be honest, the leftover booze doesn’t hold a candle to the great sex and the way he treats me. Except for the sometimes unanswered texts. Those I hate.

Well, I grabbed a twelve pack and headed over. It was just him and I, the sister and her man had gone to sleep, after no doubt many hours of binging.

We talked as I downed beer after beer. One thing that I love about Highway Guy is that whenever I walk in the place, I can see on his face how pleased he is to see me looking good. I can tell he finds me attractive. There is always a smile on his face when I walk in.

Eventually, once the beers rested my nerves a little, I brought up those really annoying unanswered texts. He said that he didn’t mean to leave them unanswered – it’s just that sometimes I text him in the middle of class or while he is doing one of his side jobs or when he is around the crazy baby momma. Basically, it wasn’t a good time to answer back, but he was convinced that he eventually answered them, though I begged to differ. I told him that they made me feel like he wasn’t interested in talking to me or that he was blowing me off or disrespecting me, but then later would want me over and of course I’d be bringing something to drink.

He reassured me that that wasn’t the case, and apologized that it seemed that way. After all, last time it was the sister who was yelling in the background for a bottle. I guess I had forgotten because she ended up not drinking any of the bottle I brought. He also said he didn’t want me getting attached too fast, so he thought it might be good to keep things at a minimum to stop me from wanting to have a relationship with him.

Oh, hell.

I let him have it at this point. What had I been telling him all along!? He KNEW I didn’t want a relationship.

“I just want a friend!!! A really GOOD friend. Someone I can talk to when I have a bad day and hang out with and it’s nothing more than that!”

“Ok….but situations change, you know that.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that? Last time I was here I told you I was ok being the ‘invisible woman’ – that we could just be fuck friends and that was it, and you said, ‘that’s fine….for now’. What the hell does that even mean?”

“You’re a woman. You ALL get attached eventually.”

“What the fuck ever, don’t categorize me like that! I have spent a lot of time figuring out what I want and what I don’t want, and trust me, if I ever want to be in a relationship again, I have standards and requirements so specific, that that person probably will never exist!! I just want a friend. And that is all!”

“Ok! I’m sorry, I’ll answer your texts more and invite you over more. I just want you to understand I have priorities in my life right now, and you’re not at the top of them!”

“I don’t expect to be! Why would I be? You aren’t at the top of mine.You have a life and school and a child and a difficult situation with your baby momma. I GET that. I’m not asking to be anything near that on your list.”

Gosh, it sure felt good to air out the laundry.

It took a little bit of courage to put it all out there, but if I hadn’t, he wouldn’t have known where I was coming from, I’d still be in the same frustrating situation, and I wouldn’t know where he was at, either.

He taught me how to play chess that night. And, I discovered just how much more of a big nerd he was. Strikingly and attractively intelligent, but a nerd nonetheless. Which, by the way, is perfectly fine by me. I’m a nerd in my own ways, too.

Of course he beat me at chess, but we had a good time using our brains together instead of our bodies for a change. And no, it wasn’t strip chess, though my tits were about to bust out the top of the sexy shirt I decided to wear over. And, he didn’t fail to cop a feel of them after our chess game was over.

The sex was great, and I’m thankful to say I remember every little moment of it. I should probably stick with beer from now on when I go over there. Especially because I felt great this morning when I arose from his bed to get ready for work, instead of sickeningly hung over, as I have been when I drink hard liquor with him. And, I looked great in his tshirt, hair tousled and makeup still in good shape in the morning. In this condition, I can see why men love that.

He, however, was a little worse for the weather.

“Whiskey,” he said, “I can’t believe I let my sister talk me into drinking it with her again. It always does me like this.”

He was well aware of my whiskey moratorium. Turns out he has a couple little issues with it as well. He was shivering under the covers after his shower. I piled all the blankets on him and asked him if he wanted some water or food or something. He had to get his butt to class, and was already a little late and taking his time to accommodate me.

“No,” he said, “food makes it worse.”

“Oh.”

“But you know what would really help me?”

“What’s that?”

“You could give me 5 bucks.”

“WHAT?!”

He laughed, recognizing how awful that sounded after the whole conversation we had had the night before about me feeling used.

“No, it’s just I’m out of cigarettes, and I  might snap on someone feeling like this over a nic-fit. You don’t have to, I know how that sounds.”

I groaned. “What is in it for me then?’

“I’d be in your debt. I’d owe you $5 and a handle of vodka, which I will give you next time you come over.”

I had to get gas when I left there anyways. So, I decided to be a good friend. But, I let him think I wasn’t going to do it until the last minute, at which point he pretty much praised the ground I walked on. I kissed him goodbye at the gas station, and he hung around while I pumped the gas.

“Why are you still here? Go to class!”

“I was just trying to be a gentleman!”

“Well I appreciate it, but I don’t want you to freeze.”

He kissed me again and hugged me and told me he would text me later this week. I told him it’s customary for me to make corned beef on St. Patty’s day, being that I’m Irish, and that he and his sister and such were welcome to join me. I also have a batch of homemade hooch that should be ready for the occasion, so it promises to be a fun weekend.

He’s sweet. And I kinda wonder what it must be like to be him, and how he sees me in respect to me being a little older, having decent money and helping him out a little bit. Does he see me as stupid, for giving into him or possibly being taken advantage of and paying for something small here or there? Or does he find that admirable and endearing? He told me last night how beautiful he thinks I am. And I fucking loved to hear it. I’m very comfortable around him. I guess I’d have to be, given our history.

Speaking of, one last thing. Post-coitus last night, I went to go pee, and he just strolled in while I was on the pot. Normally, this would never happen unless I was involved with someone for a long time. And, I was totally naked on there. I felt naked.

“What are you doing in here! I’m on the toilet, you can’t look at me while I’m on the toilet!”

He didn’t care. He had to go and I needed to hurry up. He’d have been better off waiting outside. It was harder to pee in his presence. Then, after I was done, he peed and came out and farted in front of me!

“GAAHHH! Gross!” I said, moving to the other side of the room. “First, you walk in on me in the bathroom and now you fart in front of me!? Jeez, you must be comfortable around me!”

He laughed, as all men do.

Yes man and NO man

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Yes, even Ihave standards.

And over the weekend I came to love that wonderful BLACKLIST feature on my phone, and discovered how much happier a person it could make me. Especially after meeting a guy that was nothing like I thought he was going to be.

We shall call him Mr. Unibrow. Ok, he didn’t really have a unibrow – that would include connection in the middle of the forehead. His eyebrows were just out of control like a beast in a bush and almost connected in the middle.

His picture looked cute online. He looked like a guy who could be your best friend. He was friendly via text, eager to meet (who wasn’t for free sex, though?), and I thought I would give him a chance. It was Saturday night and I resolved to go out since Highway Guy hadn’t called to hang out…which was a shame, but hey–onwards and upwards, right?

So I called Mr. Unibrow to come and join me, just to see what he was like and decide if he was someone I wanted to see a little more of. Well, he met me at a nice bar, and when he came and sat down next to me, even the cute older-man bartender kind of looked at me like….really? Your’e with THIS guy? Unfortunately, for the night, yes…my eyes glazed back at him. I already would rather take that cute bartender home than THIS guy.

I had already ordered a chardonnay when he showed up. He ordered the same and the bartender asked if he should put everything on the same tab. “Yes!” Mr. Unibrow quickly replies.

We talked and finished our wine. It was a little too fancy a place for the kind of night I wanted to have, so the starstruck caveman-browed  puppy and I decided to leave.

“Do you want to put this on the card?” The bartender asked.

“Yes!” Mr. Unibrow replied swiftly, once more. Apparently, the dumbass didn’t realize that I had given the bartender my card to open the tab in the first place. I mean, come on, have you never been to a bar before??? The bartender whipped out my card and ran it through the till while Mr. Unibrow was catching up in his mind about what just happened. He had pulled out his wallet and fumbled nervously, watching and realizing what he had just done.

Oh well, it was only $8, I thought to myself. And, I’m not taking THIS dumbass home.

Well, we headed down the road to a sports bar, and had dinner and a pitcher of beer. Which, by the way, I made sure the dumbass paid for. The food was good, the service sucked, and the company was even worse. At one point he got up to use the restroom, and I pondered walking out the front door.

I have a hard time being mean to people, but I certainly wasn’t going to fuck this guy because I felt sorry for him. It’s my body, and therefore my rules. But I wanted OUT. This guy was a major buzzkill, and I had wasted half of the night in his company, when I could have been at a bar down the street, chatting with a sexy stranger instead.

At one point, he sneezed in the middle of his dinner like it had taken him by surprise, and I tried my best not to wretch or laugh. As he was in the restroom, I asked the waitress to please bring the check so I could get out of this awful date. And that was the fastest service I received all night. Apparently she even wondered what the fuck we were doing there. I mean, half of the time we didn’t even talk….we ate our food and I ignored him by watching the sports game on the giant television….and I don’t even like sports.

Well, as we were walking back towards the car, he suggested going into another bar.

“Oh, no, I just adopted a new dog and I’m afraid to leave him home alone too long,” I lied.

He accompanied me to my car, hugged me, and I lied how it was nice to meet him. I got into my car, wanting nothing more than to get right back out, walk down the street, and take 3 shots at the closest watering hole.

But, I thought maybe he would see that if I did, since he was parked in the same lot as me, so I reasoned that I should at least pull around the block. And, as I turned the corner in the lot, there he was in his car…..WATCHING ME. He was probably watching to see if I was going to leave! So, I waved and raced out of there like a bat out of hell, driving down pointless routes and spending more time looking nervously in my rearview than my windshield just to make sure he wasn’t following me.

“I’m home safe” He texted. “It’s so warm here at my house”

Like I WANT to be anywhere warm with you!? UGH!!!!

BLACKLIST. And, all my troubles are suddenly gone. Why haven’t I used this feature before? I wondered. This would certainly be a helpful tool for Mr. Blue Eyes, who still hasn’t left me alone since I dumped him. His last text was actually kind of funny. He’s moved onto being really mad at me. I guess that means he’s reached the next stage of healing.

Well, I ended up turning around after my zigzag driving evasion of Mr. Unibrow. I still wanted to drink and have a good time. To be honest, I’d blown off a couple of guys that night. One was a nice guy, but he seemed like he was going to be just as clingy as Mr. Blue Eyes. The other guy I blew off was a new guy, who I will call The Surfer. And, he looked hot. But he was really anxious to just meet me and fuck, and I’m still looking for a guy who wants more than a one time thing and wants to be a good friend of mine, too. I didn’t see this being the case with The Surfer.

After doing a bit of bar hopping, joining up with a random bachelorette party (good luck lady….let me know how that marriage thing works out for you…) for a while, and then, dismayed at the selection of men in the only bar that didn’t have a long line weaving out of the front door, I decided maybe I would just meet up with The Surfer.

Turns out he lives like a half an hour down the coast….but only a few hundred feet from the beach. He lived in a really dumpy place, but as I found out, comes from a wealthy family. He was smoking hot and was an Army/National Guard reservist. He had to go to drill the next day, so he hadn’t wanted to go out and get too crazy because of that…he excused when I confronted him about not meeting up with me on the town. Oh well, I thought. I was there for sex and the company of a hot guy, so who gives a fuck anymore, anyways.

We spent a few hours talking and watching 90s movies on tv, the both of us drifting in and out of sleep. I was tired. And, it was pretty late. But then we both managed to wake up enough for some hot sex.

And this guy was HUGE. I was a little afraid of it at first. I told him he should be careful with it as he might hurt me. I laughed when he started questioning me about how it compared with other guys I had been with. Like I get out a fucking ruler when I’m about to get it on with dudes!?

This guy was up there, though. Definitely in the top 5.

It fit nicely though, and he commented on that to me, as well. I enjoy sex with pretty much all different kinds of men….except maybe if you have a super big belly like The Ex did or if you have a really small penis. That is hard to enjoy as much. But, I’ll pretty much take a spin and find something I like about any male body type. The Surfer was athletic. Trim, for sure, but not super skinny.

And his dog tags hung down over me and I held them in my teeth while he grinded into me. I could tell he was really getting off on that. Eventually he flipped me over, and had me from behind, my legs closed. This is one of my favorite positions, but you have to be pretty lengthy to stay in all the way in this position. And, I like to surprise my guys by pushing (like I’m humping the bed) while they are in me like that. It fucking drives them mental.

Well, he came eventually. The Surfer is pretty much every guy that I saw in college. Selfish, a little bit dominant, and only concerned about his pleasure. He didn’t eat me out. And he didn’t see me to orgasm. He did have me stay the night, and in the morning we repeated before I hopped in my car and left. He didn’t kiss me either. I planted one on him when I went to leave, and it was awkward – as it should have been. I kind of like that he kept the kissing out of the fucking – because I don’t think it has a place there, anyways. I’ve said before that kissing carries meaning…and doesn’t therefore belong in a meaningless fuck. We just throw it in there sometimes because we feel like we should.

He was hot…and the sex was decent, but I think the best thing about that experience was the drive home. And I don’t mean that in a snarky way – I actually stopped at the beach on the way back. I hadn’t seen this part of the coast before, so I did a little beachcombing there. It’s one of my favorite things to do, and I found quite a few intact shells that I had been searching for at the local beaches, but couldn’t find whole. It seems that a super cold day in March was the best day to go looking for shells. I also saw a lot of wildlife and some whales spraying off the coastline. A rare sight, indeed.

Personal photo 🙂

It was a beautiful morning, I wasn’t hungover, and I’d seen and gotten a few things I’d been searching for. There was no one on the beach and I found something inside me in the solitude and beauty that was there. I thought to myself if this were me, stranded on an island by myself, I’d pretty much be ok with that. I’d probably want my dog so I wasn’t totally alone…and it would suck not having modern conveniences, but I think I could do it. I have no problem amusing myself, and I always feel a peace knowing that God is always with me, no matter how alone I may seem.

I don’t want to be single all of my life. Eventually I want to end all of this madness and be a normal person once again. Maybe all of this is part of my personal healing process…and I know that it’s therapeutic for my self-esteem. Knowing that so many guys are after me makes me feel sexy. And I kind of like the buffet. I like the variety. And, it gives me something to compare to when I am ready to find a dish that I’m ready to eat for the rest of my life.

Who is that girl I see staring straight back at me?

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After a little bit of possibly self-destructive behavior, I’ve taken a time out to look in that ever-dreaded mirror and be a little introspective.

Things were going fine and I was happy doing my thing…but one night a few days ago I got rip roaring drunk, watched two chick flicks, went to the beach alone, and picked up a guy who was eying me from his car on the highway.  Frankly, I was a bit disgusted with myself after the fact – mostly because  I had been so reckless that night. I broke a few laws, did something incredibly risky….and oh yeah….that little part where The Hotel Bartender came over just two short hours after I kicked the stranger I met on the highway out of my bed.

It was just a little too fast and furious for me…I thought maybe all this unbridled, bra-burning revolution going on inside me had gone a little too far. Or it could have just been the fact that, once again, even a SMALL amount of whiskey in my system brings out the raging Irish redhead in me. But honestly, it’s deeper than that.

I’d grown up in a normal family with high expectations of me. I am the middle child, so however you want to prejudice me by that simple fact, have at it. But I grew up thinking that my life was going to be perfect. I was going to live the American Dream/fairytale….I’d have my degree, a handsome husband and a beautiful home, and we would live happily ever after.

WRONG.

I’m now 26, divorced, and living in an apartment thousands of miles from any real family. Granted, I have a nice car and a nice apartment, and my bills are paid (mostly on time). I’m sane (for the most part) and I keep on truckin’ when times get hard, after conquering depression that raged in my life from my teens through twenties. But life and ultimately, relationships, didn’t turn out the way that I had hoped. The first guy that I planned to marry was The Italian. I met him when I was 19, and all I have to say about myself through the 3 years I was with him is that I was naive. VERY naive. I had had a boyfriend or two before him, but nothing really serious. I was happy to adore him, and up until the day he cheated on me, I thought we were going to be together forever, no matter our arguments or financial struggles or the way that his family didn’t really mesh well with mine.

Boy, was that a hard life lesson learned. Back then I realized the meanings of the terms “co-dependent” and “emotional abuse”. I was utterly destroyed both financially and emotionally in the wake of that man. But, out of it, I became independent, not-so-naive, and a stronger feminist with clear ideas about how to deal better with men I was in a relationship with. I spent a few years on the dating circuit, enjoying seeing what was out there to offer (I was not so sexually liberal back then – it was simply dating, and I stuck to my guns about withholding sex until a formal relationship was declared). I was happy being me. I had finished school, I had gainful employment, good friends, and a sense of self-worth I hadn’t really had before.

Now enter The EX. What struck me the most about The Ex was how badly he wanted to be with me. For a long time I had given up hunting down a man and wanted to simply be the hunted. And The Ex hunted me down. He was mildly attractive…not the shiniest penny in the bank, but he would do if he would treat me right. And in the beginning, he did. It wasn’t until we were legally married that things really started to sour. He got lazy, and fat, and into things that I disapproved of. And then he moved me away from my family and it wasn’t two weeks into our new apartment that he beat the daylights out of me.

It wasn’t the first time he had gotten physical with me. I initiated another wrestling match shortly after our wedding….and while I blamed a lot of it on myself for slapping him and initiating it….and his PTSD for not stopping him…what he did was still unacceptable. I then gave him the ultimatum….either knock it off or next time I’ll make sure it ruins your life. Apparently, he didn’t believe me. In the month or so leading up to the final incident, I found myself gravitating away from The Ex. I was emotionally distancing myself. We were constantly up and down and he was so rude to me most of the time that, even though I was utterly against divorce (I believed with the proper help that we could work anything out), I was considering leaving him the minute I had the financial stability to do so. You can’t live happily in a marriage with a man who calls you a c*nt, prefers marijuana and porn to acknowledging his own wife, and whose presence brings you a constant fear of physical danger (amongst other things). Everything was a downer with this man. He was unhappy with himself and reflected it onto me. Sure, he had his soft side, but I rarely saw it anymore. I was in self-preservation mode.

Well, as I said, I made sure that the next time he laid a hand on me it ruined his life. The police dragged him off, his things were moved out within a week and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. So, here I am, the single lady with a collection of FWBs.

When I sit and wonder why I’ve chosen to walk a path considered by some to be risque, slutty, or destructive, I find that there are probably a few things to blame. The first, most obvious, and what I would really like to chock it up to is simply this : I love sex. I mean, who doesn’t? Ok, I guess there are some people who don’t, but I can’t relate. I just love feeling good and even that connection with another human being. Men will always be a mystery to me. Sometimes when I look at them I see another equal, someone as perfectly normal as me….and sometimes I see something I just don’t get. But yet somewhere in me, I just want to connect with that thing I don’t understand….there is a longing for the man…and everything that he has to give. And while I’ve had a bout or two of lesbian behavior, I simply cannot deny my obsession with the male.

If I look at myself on a deeper level, I’ll understand that what I really like is the attention I get from these guys, and the satisfaction that being wanted brings into my life. Blame it on being a middle child if you want, but who doesn’t want to feel wanted? I’ve been a plus size girl all of my life….and I’m just now in my twenties beginning to truly accept that about myself and gear my mind towards men who appreciate that about me. I’ll have to talk more later about my experiences with the human kind as a big girl, but I’ll save that for another blog. But I cannot deny that feeling rejected for the greater part of my life from men because of my size has left my love cup a little empty. I feel as if now, maybe, I’m making up for all the times growing up that I was punched, spit on, made fun of, and rejected by members of the opposite sex.

Validation is a wonderful feeling. Particularly when executed with fingers, tongue, bodies, and the equipment of the opposite sex.

The last thing I might blame it on is my failed relationships of the past. The fairy tale was a lie…and by now my dreams of having a perfect life are ended…so part of me thinks, what the hell? I’ve got a tarnished record now, so what is the point of trying to be a good girl anymore? And the way that I was neglected in my marriage and other relationships also plays into it. I’ve been eaten out more in the last month that I have with all of my exes COMBINED. This was another one of those things that I asked for more of and therefore received less. And, to be clear – I take care of my nether regions. I receive and have received nothing but positive remarks about the condition of my “situation”, so poor hygiene is no scapegoat for that one.

So I’m getting the attention that I’ve lacked. And, I’m meeting men who are givers instead of takers. And it’s kind of sad that I’ve been so shocked that men like that exist. I’ve been the victim of so many chauvinists, misogynists, and men who were simply just takers, who took advantage of my giving nature, that I honestly believed they were all like that.

At least if I have learned anything from all of this, it’s that while I may choose to jump into bed with whomever I choose, I won’t get myself into a relationship with just anyone. I know better what is out there, and I know what I deserve. And while I’m out here far from home, I won’t have lonely nights where I consider calling up an ex….or falling into depression and crying in self-pity. I’ll have someone there to distract me. And if FWB #1 is not around to keep me smiling, there is always FWB #2, and so on.

For once in my life I truly feel wanted. And how much more do I feel that way when I’m wanted by more than one person? The only thing that remains is finding someone who wants ALL of me. And being fresh from divorce (and frankly, very pessimistic on the topic), I’m not looking for that someone. I’m still equipping myself for the day that I am ready…or maybe when I stumble onto him and start having crazy feelings again. In the meantime I have to deal with that little Jiminy Cricket voice telling me that I shouldn’t be doing this. That I’m “better” than giving myself away to these guys. My greatest silencer is feminism. Why can’t I womanize men the way they do women? I’m also getting a snapshot into what being a man might be like, which helps me all the more to decipher them. And, it’s an ego boost. If I needed anything after the divorce, it was a healthy dose of self-esteem.

I don’t regret getting into this…but I do regret that drunken night when I was so reckless. But, maybe I needed that little alarm to go off…to keep me grounded, and to remind me to be introspective every now and again. I think so much about other people and why they do they things they do…a little “me” time was in order.