Interruptus Orgasmous

Finally, a break to write and hang out with my friends ūüôā . I have been studying non-stop, and passed my third license. Three down, four to go! ¬†Funny and stressful story to tell you about the test. ¬†To take the tests, I drive a little over an hour to sit in a sterile, robot operated and silent (dead silence) computer lab for a test with an hour and 15 minute time limit. ¬†All three have yet to take me that total time. This morning, I was up at 5 am to squeeze in a little more studying. Leave the house at 6 am, get gas, and mosey my way an hour to my favorite testing center (I will admit, the ladies that work it are extremely wonderful). ¬†I carefully choose my noise cancelling headphones, steered by one of the robots¬†ladies to my computer, lucky number 5. Then it happens…. Interruptus orgasmous, coitus, testus. ¬†The lights flash and the computer glitches (I kid you not, no exaggeration), and a warning screen pops up. Program can’t save. Are you joking? Am I losing it? Are my leftover stress tears from the drive still clouding¬†my vision? Arms starting popping up all over the lab. Stressed. Frantic. Worried. And the robots ladies were on the phone, as quickly as the lights flashed. 20 minutes, that’s how long I had to wait until I could resume my test. ¬†Obviously, seeing as I am not currently in a drunken stupor, I passed.

You are probably wondering what that story had to do with my title. Here is¬†the real gossip. I have spent my days studying, uptight and tense. ¬†The other day, I was fading and quickly. ¬†The perfect solution popped into my mind… Home Alone. Not the MaCaulay Culkin classic or theme to my life. But the fun little gem that every girl needs to keep in her bedside table.

Side note: I am surprisingly somewhat of a prude. I tend to shy away from these sort of topics. But hey, who are you going to tell… Right?

The Home Alone. A silent, rechargeable, waterproof gem from God. Laying in bed, pulling out my gem for an afternoon delight. Out of nowhere, I hear a door close and voices. A little too close for comfort, way too close to be coming from a neighbors. ¬†I trip over myself to hide put away my gem to investigate. I open the door to my garage, and my contractor (Mr. Fix-It) is standing in my garage (25 feet away from my bedroom I must add). ¬†I’m dumbfounded.

To say the least, I was tightly wound and had no outlet thanks to Mr. Fix-It. ¬†I did what any self-respecting prude would do. Found things to keep myself busy. I discussed the never-ending fence with Mr. Fix-It, played the part of the pooper scooper, the green-thumbed gardener that waters plants, and ate corn nuts. ¬†Of course nothing helped, nothing cures interruptus orgasmous. ¬†Well there is one thing that cures it, the big ‘O. ¬†A cure that was not to befall me on that day. This single girl has had many years to improve upon stuffing down hoity-toity non-prude needs. A guy friend told me today that I need to find a guy to unwind my tightly wound…. insides.

What did I have to show for my day?  Watered plants, no more dog poop, additional studying, and shoved down desires.

I hate to say it, but I have to go. I’ve been up late too many nights in a row this week and I have a leftover #Cookout milkshake in the freezer. ¬†And as always, #GossipGirl is distracting me! ¬†Until next time…



Holding on or Letting go

Phew, what a week! Second license done for my new career path, and two to go! I can do this, I really can. This evening was the perfect way to end my week! Girls night of the best kind; laughing from the moment I got there, all the way to the end. ¬†I met new #PureBarre friends and got to know some better. ¬†And they got to know me, knowing that this blog exists. ¬†My plan to end this wonderful evening was to drink my way through a couple of the bars with J and some other friends. ¬†I decided that B&J’s Cherry Garcia, blogging, and #GossipGirl was a much better idea!

I arrived home tonight to my bathroom trash strewn across the floor. ¬†My new damn foot thing destroyed, you know the one that effectively scrapes off all of nasty ass dead skin! ¬†It’s winter, my feet are gross from being dry – just like all of yours! ¬†Don’t worry, I still love you friends. ¬†After picking up all of the destroyed trash, and giving my dog the evil eye; I ceremoniously replaced my foot thing in its place. ¬†Yes, I kept it. I love it and I need it; I couldn’t get rid of it! ¬†It made me think of something… Do you ever keep things that you probably should just get rid of? ¬†There are a couple of things that I have collected over the years. ¬†Shirts, ball caps, pillows, body wash, numbers (tryst leftovers). ¬†Very low on the list of things I seem to keep are names WITH¬†numbers… This came to bite me in the ass just recently. ¬†I received a text from an unknown number, I of course was hoping it was Mr. Z (more than hoping, holding on); alas it was not. So who could the mystery man be? The list is NOT¬†short of whom it could be. ¬†Unfortunately for me, our waiter at girls dinner heard me exclaiming this fact (more or less in one word… slut). ¬†Even more unfortunate, he was great looking with an amazing accent as well as sense of humor. Girls, and I know you’re reading, we must return to that restaurant for future dinners. I am in need of a phone number and another copper glass ūüėČ

Anyways! The text. It was a very classy re-introduction… HA. ¬†Because I did not have the number saved, my sleuthing began. I responded, that gave away nothing to the persons identity. I attempted to Google search. Nothing. All of my friends were working, so a call to the number could not be made. ¬†The only choice left was to pull out the age old:¬†Oh something happened to my phone and I lost contacts. ¬†Really, if I held on to things, like phone numbers with their names, I would not have this problem. ¬†Well, using that line only halfway works. ¬†I always find out who it is, but usually the lie is only halfway believed. ¬†Turns out, it was Non-Aged Rum, the greenie. ¬†He wanted to hang out, do something. Hmm, wonder what that something was, a tryst? ¬†Honestly, this year/month (we shall see how long it lasts), I have decided that I am not going to play along just to fill a void or get another story. ¬†Boring I know, believe me it won’t last long and I have plenty of stories to fill the void until then!

I decided I was not interested in anything beyond a friendship, let’s be honest really anything. ¬†I am not attracted to guys younger than me, they are emotionally stunted and majorly¬†full of themselves. ¬†So I am not holding on to this one, I am letting his number and name go. ¬†Non-Aged Rum might have been a tall glass of something, but not my cup of tea. ¬†My taste is more of the champagne nature. ¬†Maybe the waiter from the restaurant is my cup of tea… We shall see!

I hate to say it, but I have to go. ¬†My toes are freezing, I am kinda hungry, and my dog is trapped in the crate. ¬†Also, #GossipGirl is distracting me! ¬†Until next time…


A little consideration…

I sit here waiting, brain fried and bum hurting, for a tree guy to come give me a quote. He is late, offering no consideration for my time and not putting the best foot forward. ¬†I understand being busy, squeezing people into a schedule. ¬†This waiting, this lack of consideration, is a disruption to my life. ¬†Just like the tree that I need taken out… I have a large pine tree precariously planted on a hill, beautiful if you like that look and pine straw all over your yard, that is uprooting itself and continuing to get worse. ¬†Kinda like my dating life. The once solid roots of my optimism to find a man have been eroded over time, causing me to begin to tip and forcing me to hold on.

Eeyore, one of the most beloved characters in literature history, once said:¬†“A little consideration, a little thought for others, makes all the difference”. ¬†I love this! What a simple line that can make the difference.¬†There have been so many times that this has played a key role in my feelings toward someone. ¬†Penn Boy, made this quote ring true this past Sunday.

I left you last time on the edge, wondering if Penn Boy would heed my subtle opening for dinner…. He didn’t, so I decided to be more obvious. After texting throughout the day, mostly discussing food cures for his hangover, an idea popped into my mind. Occasionally, I have them! ¬†It was getting close to dinner, and I was getting hungry. I boldly texted him, something clever to the extent of me being hungry as well as distracted and him needing more food so would he want to get some dinner…

YES! I had successfully asked someone out on a date. Wait? Did I just ask him out? Oh crap, oh shit, damnit. What if he didn’t respond? What if he thought I was being overzealous? Luckily, I did not have to worry long. He responded, and the date (can you consider a date if I do the asking?) was on. ¬†I left it up to him to choose¬†a restaurant, and how he responded blew my mind.

Side note: I am a vegetarian, 8 years strong this month. ¬†I have received so many funny questions and responses to my eating choice. People want to know why, how, for what reasons! For me, I don’t wake up every day wanting or needing meat. Confession time… ¬†Recently, drunk M has decided that she needs chicken. Within the last month, I have had 2 chicken sandwiches from #Cookout. Shhh, don’t tell anyone! Honestly, I can’t even remember what they tasted like. I just had a strong urge to get one.

Anyways, back to my story! On the topic of consideration, Penn Boy has it and I was surprised. Before choosing the restaurant he asks me: Can I eat somewhere that the restaurant cooks my food where meat has been cooked, and will it upset my stomach? ¬†Umm what…… No guy, heck no person, has ever been that considerate when discussing restaurant choices. He ended up choosing one of my favorite restaurants, ironically the same one that Liberty and I had our first date at. It was set, and I had to get ready!

I zoomed in and out of the shower, put make-up on, and had just enough time to meet my friends A & J, for drinks before. Every girl needs a little pep talk from her girls before a first date! Champagne, check! Pep talk, check! Joking that I should have my date where A & J were eating, check! Now onto the date.

I arrived fashionably late, which to me is a couple of minutes. He had a table, and I quickly found him and sat down. ¬†As I am telling this, something little occurred to me, Penn Boy did not stand up when I got to the table… Thoughts? Too old school thinking? Anyways, immediately our conversation flows about life, school, work, and random musings. ¬†There were very few awkward silences. ¬†What did I learn? He has a very dry humor, he is extremely intelligent (like holy shit, I just tried to keep up), doesn’t define himself by the military, wrestled, has crazy liberal siblings, potentially not the best childhood, and definitely into politics. ¬†As Penn Boy continued to talk, I had this eerie familiar feeling. He reminded me of someone, but who did he remind me of? ¬†Then it hit me, Penn Boy reminded me so much of my dad. He even told me that he was reading a book my dad had recently given me to read, that is still sitting on my book shelf (really, you think I have time in between two grad school classes and licensing to read). ¬†This fact, surprisingly, did not bother me.

All of a sudden, something catches my eye butterfly, I see A walking past towards the bathroom. I giggle inside my head, trying to keep my attention on Penn Boy. I should have guessed they would show up.  Even funnier because of, again Liberty, my last first date at this restaurant. Then a couple minutes later, J walks by. Can I say how much I love my friends!

How were things left you ask?After two hours, Penn Boy and I made our way outside; leftovers in hand and conversation continuing.  He said it was great meeting me and having a good conversation.  Said that he was about to get busy with work, but we should do it again.  Exciting, nerve wracking, and considerate. Oh, and I forgot to mention he did pay for dinner as all men should.  Later that night I sent a text, just one, saying that I had fun getting to know him and hope we could do it again soon. His response: Yes definitely! Goodnight

I of course, have yet to hear from him. But you know what? That is okay! I am not texting or pursuing. He said he was going to get busy (yes of course I checked that out with my friends’ husband, who reassured me). ¬†He has my number, if he wants to hang out again he can ask me. I am testing a new strategy in “talking” to guys. We shall see if it works, and if Penn Boy is considerate enough to ask me out this time!

I hate to say it, but I have to go… Thai food is calling my name, and I must get back to studying. Until next time…




You are STRONGER than you think

That is a quote from my favorite coffee mug, and coffee is my life line! It happens to be a #PureBarre mug that I LOVE! Let’s talk about coffee for a moment. I am an avid #Nespresso fan, I love the shit. ¬†It is mercilessly¬†strong coffee, that I drink black. Black like my soul, as one of my best friends says. ¬†She¬†goes as far to say black is her favorite color, keeps it cheery as you can tell (you will most definitely hear more about her in later posts). Over my life there have been so many things that I have come upon, that after finishing them, I realize that I am way stronger than I think/thought. ¬†This current hurdle, I can completely handle.

I recently started watching #theBachelor with a friend and her husband. Never having watched it, I can tell you that I am no addicted (can you tell I have an addictive personality, or maybe I just overuse that word!). It is a plane-train-automobile-ship wreck that you can’t help but watch, it is GREAT! Anyways, this past Monday we were enjoying the show when out of nowhere my friends husband starts talking about this guy he knows from work (he knows all about my single epic life), talking about what he’s into and that he is from Pennsylvania and a hunter. ¬†He mentioned the Pennsylvania because I grew up in West Virginia, so much in common already! Anyways, his wife and I ask for a picture so we can see what he looks like. I was not interested in talking to him or dating him, just curious (cross my heart). We get to see a picture, and he is pretty cute. The picture of course was with a little girl, whom my friend clarified that it was not his. The cute kid and cute guy, got me more interested (come to find out, that was done on purpose Penn Boy called it “intuition”). And heck, if nothing else a new story for you to read ūüôā

My friends husband hands me his phone and says: give him your number! I am dumbstruck….¬†Ummm what, what do you mean – I don’t know how to just give someone my number. I throw his phone to my friend and tell her to, I mean she is married to the guy she could make it sound more like him and less obvious. ¬†She did it, she sent my number… And the waiting game began.

Well nothing, and come Thursday I had forgotten about it (surprisingly). Friday night, I finish up the day with Pure Barre then head home for food, wine, and #GossipGirl in my comfy yoga pants. ¬†Out of nowhere, Penn Boy texts… I’m dumbfounded and a little confused. Surprised he was finally texting, and not sure what to do. Answer, not answer, play the waiting game?!? I answered and the conversation seemed to flow. He’s military, slightly older (points), and not from Pennsylvania. He had an adorable puppy (swoon) and preferred vodka over beer. We texted all night, but not the incessantly childish texting. Penn Boy is funny, forward teetering on too abrupt, conservative, eloquent and charming (in a quirky kind of way). Initially what I liked best was his eloquence, I have a somewhat robust vocabulary that I enjoy utilizing and adding new words to. It is hard to find people in my generation that have the same appreciation.

The second aspect that surprised me, and made me like him more, was his knowledge of quotes and Charles Bukowski. ¬†I sent him a picture of my spoiled, yet wonderful puppy dog lounging in my home. In the picture, you can see a canvas with a quote on it that I made, it is hanging in a prominent place in my home, so that I can always see it. The quote is:¬†“She’s a mess of gorgeous chaos, and you can see it in her eyes” by Chuck Bukowski. Now, this quote defines me and perfectly portrays who I am. I am crazy, messy, wounded, positive, spunky, quirky, negative, outgoing, and reserved; only those who are close to me do I allow to see all the aspects of my being. I only follow this writer to the extent of loving his quotes I see on Instagram, Penn Boy knew exactly who he was (which both frightened me and inspired me). Who was this guy that knew quotes from a classic like Charles Bukowski? I surely was not in his league.

But he still seemed down to earth, an inspired and curious mind of a guy next door type of attitude about life.We had similar personalities and seemed to enjoy the same things. He went about his night (making dinner, meat/potatoes; when should I tell him I’m a veg?!?) and I went about mine. I remained calm and interested.

Because I had seen a picture of him, the inevitable asking of the picture came. I found a pic that I did not have a major distaste for and sent it with fingers crossed and eyes scrunched up. What would he say? How would he react? His response:¬†You’ve got a lot going on in the pattern of that dress, I like it. Huh? What am I supposed to say to that? What does that even mean? Was that a sly way of not having to say I look cute because he didn’t think I did? After a major discussion with my friend, she assured me that she was sure Penn Boy did not want to come off as a sleezeball and that her husband was super awkward so Penn Boy could be too.

It’s now Sunday, and our texting has continued at the same speed. Occasional texts here and there…. And yes I am freaking out! ¬†I hate this part with a passion, remaining strong willed, and not over texting. Not continuously asking questions or looking to make sure my phone is working. This is the stupid, giggly, pathetic girl part. ¬†You want to know more, you want to get to know the guy more, but you don’t want to come off as psycho.

But I am stronger than I think, I only occasionally check my phone (he has a life too) and I am letting Penn Boy initiate conversation. However, I could not help myself…. I did leave an opening for him to ask me out to dinner. It may have been too subtle, we shall see :/ What are y’alls thoughts? Am I too quickly liking him? As you know I fall hard into like, and it seems too quickly. But I am not saying I have fallen or am even close to it. He seems nice and I want to get to know him (see stronger than I think).

So as I sit here, blogging away to prevent from texting, I remind myself: YOU ARE STRONGER THAN YOU THINK. I mean, you just tucked your ass off at #PureBarre for an hour, surely you can not text a guy. ¬†Hopefully this Penn Boy will continue and gain a better nickname…..

Side note: I passed my first exam, one down and three to go! Like I said, I am stronger (maybe smarter) than I think!

I hate to say it, but I have to go…. Studying absolutely needs to happen and my coffee is getting cold! I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend, and return next week to hear more about Penn Boy and Liberty, I haven’t forgotten that I left you slightly hanging on that story! Until next time…


Cautiously Optimistic

Today is the day… I am taking my first examination (out of four) for my new career path. How am I feeling? Stressed, scared, nervous, brain dead! I have done the required study hours, taken the practice tests over and over, as well as read through the material. So I can honestly say, I am cautiously optimistic. I have to drive an hour and a half to go to the testing center, so I am taking a break to hang out with y’all before I have to leave ūüôā

The other day I received the email reminding me that taxes are upon us and to remember to use #TurboTax again this year. ¬†Every year this reminds me of a guy, of course, we shall call him Liberty. ¬†You can ask any single girl this day in age, and I am sure she will admit to having used #Tinder at some point in her life. ¬†So, I admit I have used it. I’ve been on it, off it, re-did it, disabled it, re-enabled it, cursed it, prayed to it, begged it… Basically, I’ve been on and off that trash many times. ¬†Every time, trying to come up with a better/classier/smarter/hoochier way to present myself; honestly, it’s good practice in marketing (wonder what my MBA professors would think of that!). ¬†For those of you that don’t understand #Tinder it is easy. Originally it was started as a same-gender¬†hook up app, then it ventured into same sex, then into this idea that it was actually for dating. HA I don’t know a single person that has remained in a relationship that started with #Tinder which should not be surprising. It is the crummy dive bar of the dating app world! #Tinder allows for all inhibitions to be removed because you are not face to face with someone, you’re trolling some phone app, judging to swipe right or left by a handful of pictures and 500 words. And people, I, wonder how so many people are cheating/divorced/still single at this point in society?

I swiped right on Liberty a couple years ago, in the beginning of one warm December (it’s the South, our winters are warm and I like it that way). ¬†We started chatting on the app and immediately hit it off. He was in town for the tax season and possibly beyond, working for a tax company (get it now?). He asked me on a date and told me to pick the place. ¬†A new restaurant had just opened that I loved, Asian food YUMMY! Date night came, and I get a message on the app from him asking if he was in the correct place…. Turns out he wasn’t, he had gone to the same restaurant in another town (an hour away).

Great, that was the end of that guy; dating optimism hit with another blow…. At least that’s what I thought. To my surprise, he apologized and asked if we could meet at the correct one a little later that night. Of course I said yes and my mindset went back to being cautiously optimistic. Why cautiously you ask? You always have to remain cautious when going on a first date.

I met up with a friend, since I had extra time. My nerves were going crazy, oh the younger days, and I was freaking out! I took action, and asked my friend to basically spy on my date (this later became a joke between us, I even had a dream about her being at my house when I had a guy over). I paid for her and another friend to eat dinner at the same place, that way if I need rescuing they were there. Or if he was an ax murderer they would at least know what he looks like.

The date went so well, we never stopped talking. We had things in common, he was cute, adventurous, tall, and younger…. Ahhh the damn greenie issue again! ¬†That was before my rules, that was when I was idealistic and thought men could be grown ups as well as mature. He told me about his company, how he got into it, he partially owned the ones that here in my town. I was impressed, to say the least, and a little jealous. A greenie that was having such success in life at such a young age, well they are a rare find!

It was the middle of the week, a Wednesday I think, and we closed down the restaurant.  Our conversation continued into the parking lot, chatting and planning when we would see each other next.  I was leaving town to go to my parents for Christmas, and Liberty made sure to plan to see me before I left.

I drove off, cautiously optimistic that I had met someone that I could see myself dating. I enjoyed the couple hours of our date, and he obviously liked me enough to drive back and forth to the wrong restaurant, only to still want to meet me.

I hate to say it, but I have to go… Wish me luck! I am cautiously optimistic that I can and will pass this first exam, then on to the next one, as well as another blog.¬†Until next time…




If at least a warning

I sit here taking a break from studying, uncomfortable and tired. Honestly, my ass itches from still wearing my pants that I wore to workout in this morning – more than¬†12+ hours ago. ¬†I will be honest, routinely I will work out and then go on with the rest of my day and not shower until the end. Now, don’t misunderstand, if I have things to do in the day that require some level of put-togetherness then I will shower and get my shit together. ¬†Here recently, I commonly will workout in the morning and then wait until the end of the day to shower. Especially if I have studying to do, for some nasty ass (haha get it?) reason when I don’t shower I am a little more motivated to keep studying. ¬†Now that you are thoroughly grossed out, let’s move on!

I remember in college, I lived in workout wear and also spent 3+ hours at the gym. I started college as a Pilsbury Dough girl (round and fluffy like the Pilsbury Dough boy), then I met the catalyst to change in my life. ¬†Really, this catalyst led to many decisions that will be re-told as fun anecdotes in this blog. I am not placing blame on this person, but merely recognizing a monumental shift in how I looked at things… In so many ways.

Mr. K was a student in one of the exercise degrees that worked as a student personal trainer.  I timidly signed up for personal training sessions to lose weight, that was it, no expectation for anything else.  Boy did I get a lot more! I began working out with him 3 days a week, initially with very little commitment.  Slowly, Mr. K pulled me out of my shell showing me that I was capable of much more than I thought.

Over time I changed, my body and my outlook. I dropped a¬†little more than 40 pounds. ¬†I became an addict. I was addicted to working out, I used it as a stress-reliever and a form of self-torture. ¬†I would workout and be leaving the gym when a friend would call to go workout, and I turned myself around to workout again. ¬†I pushed myself, too hard, in everything. I ran, I lifted weights like a guy, and I didn’t eat. ¬†And Mr. K was there at my side for all of it, I tied a huge part of my happiness at that time in my life to him. ¬†Looking back, I quickly formed an unhealthy attachment (honestly probably the reason I attach too quickly, like gorilla glue or velcro, now). ¬†I looked to him for approval for everything, and then as someone to push my frustrations on. ¬†Mr. K became my therapist, my friend, my pseudo brother, my main support, and my source of happiness. ¬†I constantly referenced Mr. K in conversations, even if they had nothing to do with him. ¬†As I plunged deeper into an exercise addiction and anorexia (I was never stick skinny), it was a constant tug of war between Mr. K and I. ¬†He wanted me to see a nutritionist, I refused for weeks and then he signed me up for an appointment. I went and was told I was only eating at best 800 calories a day and burning well over 1,000, which did nothing to change my habits and I would argue made them worse. I would eat a protein bar in front of Mr. K after a workout, to his response of “oh that’s a great power bar to eat” and immediately I would throw it away. If I was sick and told by Mr. K not to work out, he would invevitably find me at the gym that day.

Because of my new found self-confidence, I began drinking more and going out more.  My clothes got tighter and shorter, cleavage showing and usually not wearing anything under skirts and shirts; I pushed the limits.  Guys looked at me, they ogled me, they wanted to buy me drinks, they roofied me, they took me home, they slept with me, they sealed the deal.  All the while, I continuously made sure Mr. K knew of my choices.  He got to know my friends, receiving many drunk phone calls with voice mails.  I remember, through a haze, times where I was with a guy at a bar and Mr. K would come up to ask if I was okay (medium size college in a small town means you know everyone that goes out). Never did I ever look at him in a sexual or romantic way (there were times where drunk M flirted, danced, and probably got too close with Mr. K), he was someone that I could play games with and I knew that he would never leave.

I never dated in college, actually to this point in my life I have never truly been in a “real relationship” (oh what the therapists would say, I can only imagine). ¬†I partially think, in part to my relationship with Mr. K. ¬†Pre-Mr. K, guys didn’t look at me and they weren’t interested.¬†Peri-Mr. K, I used him as my constant¬†where I could create a pseudo relationship with him like what I wanted with a guy, but still be the ditsy girl for attention. ¬†Post-Mr. K my tenacity to meet guys increased, but not for substance just for attention, trysts, and to fill a hole.

My twisted and unhealthy close-relationship with Mr. K went on for just about a year and a half.  I returned from summer break and rang Mr. K up, and that was a phone call that will never be forgotten. He was taking a break from student personal training to focus on school, that I can not hold against him and never have. I was stunned, and taken aback. Where was the warning, was I not worth some warning?!? I brushed it off and probably went to workout, we would still be friends.  Then I ran into him a couple weeks into school in the library, we hugged and chit chatted about summer as well as the beginning of classes. I returned to my table and broke down.  That is the closest I have ever come to a break-up of any sort, and it still remains that way.

Now I hide behind fun, trust issues, fear issues, crazy quick attachment, trysts and this theory that I will never find someone.  Mainly, I hide behind telling myself that I am not worth something of substance.  Which I know is not true, but still I naturally get rid of the guy before he has the chance to get rid of me and I hold all men at an arms distance. Or like Mr. Z, I quick attach like gorilla glue/velcro and trick myself into believing that this will be the guy that will stick around and this will be the guy that I am worth something to, if only at least a warning. I fully recognize that the way I have met and continue to meet guys, is not one where I will find anything of quality.

I hate to say it, but I have to go. Seriously, I am itchy, I promise I shower on the regular, every day! ¬†I leave you with an apology, at least a warning about the seriousness level would have been nice. And a promise, that the next blog post will be back to the fun stories! This was kind of a look into my past, into my soul; partial understanding of why I am the way I am, fueled by coffee and a need for sleep. ¬†Until next time…


“Just take this as a warning. Know that there’s always a price for not being yourself.”

I woke up this morning fully rested and prepared to conquer my day. ¬†What’s in store? Well I have already had my morning cup o’ Joe and crepes, trolled Facebook (such a bad idea, I should have stayed off), and now I am hanging out with y’all before I go workout. ¬†Before I get into my next story, I do want to throw a question/statement out there. What may surprise you, is that I am a young conservative woman whom voted for Trump, our new President elect. I wonder this morning if what I write can be compared to locker-room talk like Trump was chastised in regards to during the campaigning. I am not physically hurting anyone, nor did Trump. My words are crude sometimes, okay a good majority of the time, and so were his. ¬†But am I really doing anything wrong, I am exercising my God given right to freedom of speech just like Trump was. Do women/men really think that all men don’t talk like locker-room talk? Men and women both do!

This past Friday I went bowling with friends, which included lots of alcohol (#alchie) as most single girl Friday nights do.  We bowled, we had fun, and I lost in stride.  After almost two hours of bowling, the party continued on out to the bars. To our surprise, there was no one out and nothing of interest happening! So we hopped from one bar to another, and I magically found someone to talk to/flirt with.  It was funny, the third bar (the grossest of them all) we landed at I ran into these two guys that we had bumped into at the first bar. Both cute, both military, and neither of them greenies.  I started talking and innocently flirting. They were drinking my favorite drink (Moscow mule) so they already had points in my book.

The one I gravitated towards was tall, slightly country, cute, and funny. We will call him Cap (he was wearing a ball cap, I know I am sooooo creative). We started talking about what we both had been up to and the amazingness of Moscow mules. ¬†He then starts into a story. Something about a doctor from Chicago that had helped an elephant in Africa with a hurt foot (that just screamed the folktale about the Lion’s paw and the mouse). ¬†The elephant ended up in a zoo in Chicago that the doctor visited with his sons. ¬†While visiting the doctor recognized the elephant and decided to go into the enclosure to reconnect (or some BS like that). ¬†Once in the enclosure, the elephant goes to wrap his trunk around the Doctor, in what I assumed was going to be a hug. ¬†Cap finishes off the story with the man being violently thrown against the side of the enclosure by the elephant, because he states it ended up being a different elephant……

This is seriously the caliber of single men left in the world?!? Cap was grinning ear to ear, loving his anecdote and thinking it had won me over or something. ¬†To tell you the truth, I did laugh a little. ¬†And that’s where his story ends, I was pulled away by a friend that wanted to move on and didn’t like the look of Cap, or the way I was looking at him. Who knows!

We stumbled our way to yet another bar, or two. There we ran into more friends, and more guys. This is where the real story is. ¬†I locked eyes with a handsome greenie…. Yes, you read that correctly – a greenie; the part of the species I try to stay away from. ¬†This one caught my eye, and I was hooked. He was a tall glass of Non-Aged Rum. ¬†He was playing pool, a game that only alcohol improves for me, and I watched him like a hawk (I definitely just tried to spell that halk) as my friend played him. He finally noticed (sorry men, but if a girl has no drink in her hand, immediately offer her one) that I was drink-less, so he offered to by me a drink; however, it wasn’t a classy going to get me a drink it was more like “hey here’s $5, get what you want”. Warning sign one.

I never turn down free drink money, so I go up to the bar near friends to order a drink. Which was quickly planted in front of me thanks to my friend. So I returned to Non-Aged Rum with his $5. Warning sign two. I totally believe in signs and things that may not seem important being representations of our psyche or underlying desires.

He keeps playing and I keep watching. Then last call hits, and friends decide they want waffle house. I follow, closely towing Non-Aged Rum behind me, and we exchange numbers in the parking lot with my friends closely watching and urging me to leave. ¬†Non-Aged Rum suggests that we should continue the party, and I was a little wishy washy in my head but my body was definitely saying yes. Warning sign three. I leave him behind with his greenie friends, and make my way to my car. ¬†Then drunk M says “fuck it, just take him home”. ¬†So my happy ass, turns her car around to pick him up. As I wait, pathetically, in the parking lot for Non-Aged Rum to make up his mind, it hits me just how young he is. I mean for god sake this greenie was 21! And while I am waiting, he is basically getting permission from his friends. I stopped that shit years ago!

Finally we are on our way to Waffle House to meet my friends, because I was really hungry (for food) at that point. We walk in and I immediately need the restroom, which he follows me into. Afraid to confront my friends, so I am basically babysitting this greenie and trying to convince him that my friends won’t say anything to him. After what seemed like a long time, two friends walk into the area we are standing in to assess the situation. ¬†At this point, I was annoyed by Non-Aged Rum and no longer hungry. So we leave and on the way to my house, I explain to this kid that there is no snow-balls chance in hell that I am having sex with him. Warning sign four. He begins trying to talk me into it, which it takes quite a lot to talk me into something once my mind is made up.

And that was it…. His ass got dropped off at Harris Teeter at 2:30 AM and this girl got cookout. ¬†I was a little pissy about the situation, but in the end I won out. I kept my worth and didn’t fall prey to a gorgeous greenie. And I did not have to pay to high of a price for not following my own rules, my own predilections.

“Just take this as a warning. Know that there’s always a price for not being yourself.” ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬†– Benilde Little, Acting Out

I hate to say it, but I have to go. My tush is starting to hurt from sitting and I have to get ready for my workout, then loads of studying later. ¬†Until next time…


Falling hard into like

Today has been a doozy! This single girls Friday night provided lots of fun, good times, more stories, and a bedtime of 3 am. ¬†I luckily had the forethought to cancel my 7 am Pure Barre class last night and put myself on the waiting list for the later one, 9:45 is not much later though when hungover. ¬†Annoyingly, I woke up at 7 am which prompted me to take some ibuprofen and chug a gatorade before falling back asleep (hangover remedy of champions). ¬†I made it through class, not as skillfully as usual, but I made it through without throwing up. I have spent the rest of my day doing school work, studying for new career tests, and I rearranged my deck! Now I am taking a break to spend some time with my online friends, that’s you ūüôā

So we did the dirty, and as previously stated, there is nothing exciting to state; there were falling expectations! But, could I really live with just that? Could I see myself with someone that did not want to get married again, did not want anymore children, and was military. ¬†I look at talking to/dating guys as an evil necessity to find the one fish in the sea that I want to be around the most. Because I am a planner, well I try to be, I don’t like to talk/date just for shits and giggles. If I can’t see myself with you long term, then I don’t see the point. This may be a horrible theory, and it has yet to work, so maybe there is an issue with it. However, I just keep thinking to myself that I have not found the right fish.

That morning came early, Mr. Z had early workouts and I was going to an early Pure Barre class; I may have possibly coincidentally done that on purpose.  After my workout, I received another phone call from Mr. Z saying he hoped I had a good day, wished my luck on my interview, and was looking forward to seeing me that night.  If you are in the middle of a career change like me, you know how stressful it can be.  Many ups and downs, life realizations, and stressing points.  This particular interview, I was hit hard by something the person said to me.  To avoid a life melt-down, I got my butt to the gym to run on the treadmill; well, 30 min turned into 60 min and at that point I was really looking forward to seeing Mr. Z.

Our evening was spent drinking vodka, talking about life, my interview, Mr. Z successfully encouraging my wounded outlook, and myself learning about some of the terrible shit Mr. Z experienced being a military guy.  I felt better and happy.  The evening ended late, around midnight, with just some canoodling in the sheets (remember, not a word to be used in place of doing the dirty). I was tired, he was tired Рwe could exist without sex.

Wednesday came and went, ending with a phone call from Mr. Z giving me the run down of what he had going on the rest of the week (physical fitness tests, work meetings, and being in the field). Sadly, I was not going to see him until Sunday. I was disappointed, but made sure he did not know that. Thursday came and went as boring as any mid-week day does. I spent my evening texting with friends, working out, showering, and lounging in bed with my super cool turban towel wrap (this curly haired girl loves those). ¬†As I am sitting in bed, Mr. Z texts and a smile spreads across my entire face. His text? “Hey I’ll be there in 20″¬†.

I’m sorry, what?!? I was so confused. Be where in 20? Was he meaning to text me? So my response?¬†“Ummm where in 20 min” – “Your house, have you eaten” – “Wait, your’e coming here? And ya I ate, I don’t have any food you can eat here tho” – “Ya, I am coming to see you. I will pickup some food”

Holy shit, Mr. Z was surprising me? What does any typical single and smitten girl do, call one of her besties immediately. I pulled up Face Time, and my friend could tell immediately something was up. As I told her, we both giggled and got excited.

Mr. Z shows up, exhausted and needing alcohol. I was excited to see him, I think I got a little too cuddly. How do I know? He totally mentioned me being cuddly (shoot me now). The night went perfectly, drinking, kissing, Archer, doing the dirty, and naked spooning. I was getting used to him, I was getting comfortable. This is what happens, I fall in like hard and fast. Watching him interact with my dog, get dressed in the mornings, shaving at my master bath sink – it all seemed so right. It was like he had been around for far longer than a week.

He goes off the next morning, headed to the field. Leaving his body wash, pillow and boots; actually, he had left the pillow after¬†the second night he stayed. He claimed, my pillows were too fluffy and thick. This was part of the problem, he was leaving his things at my place. To me, a pillow is paramount and I don’t just leave mine anywhere. Come to find out, guys don’t have the same attachment.

Sunday falls¬†and I don’t get to see him because he is still stuck in the field, something I believed because he had yet to do anything that would make me not believe him. And oh looking back, I was probably wrong. Monday falls and I get a call that night from Mr. Z. He was calling to say that they were still cleaning stuff and he would not be done until late, but I could tell that he was looking for an invitation to come over. One that I should have not offered! But of course I did, I told Mr. Z “that’s completely fine, you know me I stay up late”. That was the turning and falling point. The night was uneventful, we canoodled, we watched Archer, we talked, we slept. ¬†Then he left the next morning, taking his boots with him…

And that’s the last time I saw Mr. Z, or even heard from him. But I kept holding on to the fact that he had left his pillow, surely I would see him again! ¬†After a couple of days, I became disheartened, so I took action. Living in a military town, I know quite a few military people. So I did the psycho girl thing, which I don’t think is psycho because there is nothing crazy about finding information out about a guy that you’re sleeping with!

What did I find out? The typical: he shows up to work, he’s single, no secret life, does what he’s told, and has a good military career. ¬†Well more days go by, now my frame of mind has moved from disheartened to pissy. A friends husband happened to know someone¬†that worked with Mr. Z in the same unit. Being an awesome husband, and guy in general, he asked if Mr. Z was in the field. And I quote¬†“No he’s not out in the field, but he’s definitely playing the field…just tell your friend to stay away from that guy”.


So what did I do? Well drunk M gave Mr. Z’s pillow to the dog whom is now using it as an ass pillow. Ironically, my dog has weird butt issues like polyps or something. The body wash? Quickly made its way into the trash. And I started this blog, swearing off men and dating. As well as a promise to myself that if Mr. Z reappears, he will get a swift response of¬†“Sorry I am not a number in somebody’s play book”.

I hate to say it, but I have to go. I have some more studying to do and am planning on going to bed early. Check back tomorrow for another story, you will see my swearing off did not last long. ¬†Until next time…


When the glitter finally settles

I’m back! Quickly squeezing in a blog post (may or may not get to the end of our Mr. Z story tonight) in between a scarfed down dinner, shower, and bowling with friends. I absolutely suck at bowling, my friends will tell you that’s not the only thing I suck, but it is so much fun!

As always, once night settles, morning rises. ¬†My first morning of 2017 brought a wicked (you will see I throw out some Northern words/sayings occasionally) hangover and Mr. Z laying next to me. ¬†I thoroughly enjoy waking up to a gorgeous naked man in my bed, can I get an Amen?!? ¬†Lucky for me, I was not the only one waking up with a wicked hangover. It seems the alcohol had settled rough on the both of us. ¬†Waking up to him felt so normal, good conversation and excellent kissing. ¬†He regaled me with his version of the night before, my excellent kissing skills (I’ve only been told twice now that I am a good kisser, and I gotta say that is a confidence booster) and my drunken inviting-ness to doing the dirty (knocking boots/sealing the deal/boinking/SEX). Mr. Z calmly said, I basically told him to¬†“put it in me” luckily in a slightly classier way and that he holds true to promises (damn clam jam). ¬†He did finally admit though, due to my inviting-ness and his level of alcohol intake, if I had had condoms, the deal would have been sealed. FUCK! Are you kidding me?!? Of course my own interference strategy holds true, usually I flip a big middle finger when condoms are missing and throw caution to the wind.

Tangent… I have been tested; again, again, and again. Yes I know that it’s unhealthy and extremely stupid. But try telling that to drunk M, you will receive a lot of¬†“but so”. I am working on it!

After morning canoodling, Mr. Z decided champagne was the best solution to our hangovers. Finally, a man after my own heart. Gross, I mean alcoholic tendencies. ¬†Making my way to the kitchen, I am confronted with a shit ton, like a lot, of glitter. The glitter had finally settled, and it was all over my house. I am not joking you, I am still finding glitter in nooks and crannies. ¬†Just J eventually showed up with Mr. Z’s truck (I am not a truck girl, but holy hot), to retrieve my car. ¬†Did I mention that Mr. Z was ten years older than me, and I was 5 years older than Just J. ¬†Just J and I interacted like siblings, bickering over nonsensical things. Well actually, I was teasing Just J for going home with a walking STD. Mr. Z just listened with a twinkle in his eye, finding my charm (weirdness) quirky and cute. ¬†I was deposited to my car with a hopeful invitation from Mr. Z to hang out later. At that moment, I was cursing the fact that I had to make an appearance at my grans for New Years Day dinner.

After a long, long dinner I finally was released with high hopes of seeing Mr. Z again. A text was sent, with a grin plastered all over my face…. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. ¬†Then single girl melodrama took over. “Great, another guy ghosting on me. Found one that seems to be sane and he disappears. Why the fuck do I even talk to guys. I am becoming a lesbian. That’s it, I am gonna be an old hag with dogs.”¬†Honestly, it probably went on all night. Texting my closest girlfriends with my sob story. And really? Can we be honest, why do we do this to ourselves. I met Mr. Z¬†the night before, we spent maybe fifteen hours together. I mean am I that desperate? That lonely?

Life goes on, the glitter settles, and so does everything else. I went on with life, still hoping to see him again, but not putting much stock into it. ¬†I made it through the night and to the next morning without tears or high levels of melodrama, then at 10 am the next morning another glitter bomb goes off. Mr. Z calls me. He calls me, on the phone, not a text but an actual voice conversation – who does that anymore? ¬†After a quick hello, and me hanging up because I was walking into work, I get a text asking to hang out. My smile reached from ear to ear. Mr. Z was asking me to hang out? He hadn’t disappeared or really had a wife to go back to the next day (oh you know that was going through my mind).

My day floated and zoomed by me. I was looking forward to seeing Mr. Z again, and to do the dirty!  I tucked so hard through my Pure Barre class, I am pretty sure people were jealous (not really).  Because I knew that Mr. Z would be showing up right when I got home.  Mr. Z joined me in the shower, I am surprised we actually went to dinner, the steam from the shower was not the only thing fogging up my mirrors.

This was the day though that I really started to fall hard into liking Mr. Z. ¬†Not only did I get an actual phone call from him, but he paid for our entire dinner. ¬†Which is saying a lot when you eat with two girls that don’t eat salad and order two beers. That small thing of paying for dinner, turned me on even more. ¬†I could not wait for a rump in the sheets that night with Mr. Z.

Did I do the dirty right away? No, of course not because that would be too typical for a guy. We get home, open a bottle of wine and Mr. Z convinces me to watch some TV.  I will tell you, that only lasted so long.  He began rubbing my feet, which sparked you know what inside me. My new couch finally was broken in (kissing nothing else), and we decide this romp needed to be moved to the sheets.

BAM, finally we did the dirty… Oh there is so little to tell. It was meager¬†in so many ways; the package, the sex, the ‘O. Vanilla is an exaggeration. ¬†What did I do? What do most girls do? We lie, we exaggerate, we become really good at faking great sex sounds. But hey, Mr. Z was still in my bed, naked, sleeping and taking showers with me. Could I really live with just this?

I hate to say it, and I know I promised I would finish the story tonight. But I desperately need to shower (are you noticing a theme?) and catching up with friends is calling my name. Tomorrow, tomorrow I will finish Mr. Z’s story. ¬†If only I could have made this as short as some other things involved herein…

Until next time…


No cherry on top of this sundae

Right now, I wish I was laying face first on my bed. What a long day! Babysitting (side job as I am currently working on a new career path), dog park with the dog, bought a new chair for an empty corner in my living room, and then Pure Barre.  After LTBing, all I wanted was some good looking sushi and a nice full glass of red wine… Well the sushi at Lowe’s was not doing it for me. Then after finally throwing together some food, I grab my wine glass (with a grin from ear to ear) and begin pouring #ZenofZin, which I have been looking forward to all day, into my glass.  Well no cherry on top of this non-stop day, I am not exaggerating there were two gulps left.  Who does that? Who leaves two gulps in a bottle?  Obviously I do!  But don’t fret, I have some white wine open that I can switch over to, can you say #alchie.

Now on to why you’re really here, hmm where was I? Oh ya, Mr. Z and the excellent make out.  As always, the night has to come to an end (we won’t mention that it was somewhere around last call) and my friend decided she was heading home, so she offered me a ride.  I decided that the interaction between Mr. Z and I needed to continue at my house, so I invited him along.  Once we reached the car, an all out war ensued over her refusing to take Mr. Z home with me.  Me being drunk, I was not doing a very good job of convincing her.  Simple solution, a taxi; it was easy, and admittedly was my plan from the beginning of the night.  After tripping our way into another bar to call a cab, we continued drinking while we waited… And making out, see common occurrence.  

Finally our chariot arrived, HA mini-van is more like it.  Giving my address, we were whisked away, sitting comfortably close in the back.  All of a sudden, the driver gets another call to pick up girls from the bar we had spent our evening in.  Feeling especially nice, not sure if it was the alcohol or Mr Z, I told the driver he could pick up the girls before taking us.  In step this two blonde imbeciles, whom we had been sitting next to earlier, clearly upset about something.  As we drove, their conversation became clear.  Being single, they were whining about not catching a man and how their lives are over; to make matters worse, they were younger than me!  Encouraged by the drink, I sit my ass straight up and begin berating them about how life isn’t over and they need to stop whining.  To say the least, Mr. Z found it comical.  We arrived at the blondes house and I brusquely told them to get out, I would pay for their fare as long as I didn’t have to hear anymore of their whining.

Fast forward, I was getting a little bored myself reading this too! Home sweet home, comfy clothes, bottle of wine, and Mr. Z on my couch.  I was in the moment, playing it up, flirting, acting cutesy (why the fuck do we girls do cutesy, do men actually find it cute?).  Our conversation flowed, we talked about everything and there were no boundaries.  I quickly learned that he had no desire for anymore kids or to be married.  Rewind, he has a sixteen year old and three year old and two alimonies (I can pick them right?).  For someone that is ten years older than me, I can completely understand that sentiment.  Me, I love kids and I grew up planning my wedding.  Me now? My parents kinda fucked my view of marriage, as well as society, and well I am still not sure about kids.  What I really want? A real relationship, one where honesty exists and I always enjoy my significant others company. I even told him this, maybe too soon?

The drinking continued, with an intermission of me popping a glitter bomb in Mr. Z’s face in my kitchen (still tonight I am finding glitter in my house).  As the conversation and kissing continued, I became more and more inviting (according to Mr. Z the next morning).  I wanted it, and I wanted it bad.  

I have to interject here, I love my friends and I know what they do is only to protect and support me. ¬†None of them want to see my ‚ÄúMissing‚ÄĚ profile on a bottle of wine, I mean milk carton. I love all of them and appreciate their concern; however, don‚Äôt get in the way of this girl getting laid.

 Finally…. It comes out that Mr. Z promised my friend (during the ride home discussion), that he would not sleep with me.  Did your mouth just drop? Ya, mine did too! That bitch (I mean that in the kindest way possible) took the cherry off my damn sundae and crushed it! I have never in my life been cock-blocked by a friend (yes guys, girls can cock-block each other too; after some google searching, for women it is called clam jam/box block/cliterference).  To say the least, I was pissy.  All of my inviting-ness, and the result is cuddling and sleeping?!?!  Okay, I have to be honest; clothes were not involved, kissing him was amazing, and spooning with someone really gives me a high.

I hate to say it, but I have to go. ¬†The white wine is calling my name, as well as a shower because I smell bad! I promise, you will hear the remainder of Mr. Z‚Äôs story tomorrow. It would be extremely rude and boring to draw it out any¬†longer! Until next time…