Purposefully Seeking OCD

I'm going to admit something.. you probably already know, but something I've kept hidden from myself. Its how I process, I know this.. I just... well.. its hard to see what you're hiding from yourself, because... well.. you're hiding it from yourself.

See how that works?



I've been trying to re-build my life for years, with the most progress happening this last year since the divorce. I may or may not have had a "breakdown" years ago. Its hard to say, and never was diagnosed. But looking back, I have to wonder.



All I know is that somewhere along the way, I forgot how to be a functional human being. I honestly blame my ex, but in reality I should blame myself. I stayed where I should have fled.



I'm discovering little things on my road back to humanity. I forgot what it was like to take joy in doing something for absolutely no reason other than I wanted to. I forgot what it was like to actually get a real paycheck for real services rendered. I forgot that pride.



People used to call me "Monica".. remember Monica from friends.. she was OCD, reserved, a great cook. Everything had its place. It drove her crazy when something wasn't where it belonged.



Thats how I used to be. Seriously. Everything had its place. Somehow during the battle with my ex (who believed that everything went wherever he decided to leave it, and that fairies would move it back to its spot. He also believed that to cure OCD was for him to simply do everything that made me crazy.), up until even today, that particular OCD has gone away. (not fully, but for the most part yes.)



I was actually having a conversation with my best friend where she began to talk about how she now has my OCD... well not exactly, she's much more of a clean-freak than I ever was. I started looking around my apartment and realized that.. I no longer have any of the "functional" parts of my OCD.



Seriously, its like apathy has taken over OCD. Like I am (was) functioning defeated. Like I'd given up.



So I've decided that I'm going to get it back. I'm happier with things in their place. I'm happier with a cleaner/neater apartment.



And so, I've been slowly digging myself out of this hole I've built. I can almost see my dining room table again.



I'm making a new list of "rules" and will be practicing doing them until I get back to where I was... ok maybe not the insane OCD crap.. but functional. Where I can have someone over maybe without saying "Oh, umm.. just close your eyes."



(Btw, I have managed to rid myself of my "I need this" hoarding OCD, which I am not seeking to take up again. Thanks but that's one I can do just fine without.)



**** For you that are grossing yourselves out with your imaginations, please understand that my mess is clean mess. I don't have left over food containers all over, or crumbs everywhere. Its just old things to get rid of, papers to file, clothes to give to goodwill.. and some canned goods to put away.

The Good Fight

There is nothing like a good fight. Ok... arguement.. discussion.. whatever you want to call it when two people disagree, voice it, and come to a resolution.. hopefully without killing each other or causing undue bodily or emotional/mental harm.

I like a good arguement. Not all the time. Not every day. But when the time it is right, the subject is right, then yes.. a good arguement.

I've always known the importance of disagreement. Partly from my parents who when I was a child disagreed often and probably more so than was healthy. But they worked it out, and this is eventually what I took away from it.

Then came the ex.. He disagreed on nothing. A few times he'd disagree, and I'd start to get into my arguing mode producing my evidence for my stance, and he'd back down. I assumed (wrongly) that because he did so.. that the subject was not important or that I'd turned him to agree with me.

What I didn't know.. and didn't understand.. is that while I understood good arguements and resolution.. He didn't.

While I love his father.. it wasn't until way late in the marriage when I realized that it was his father who taught him this. His father taught him to back down to any confrontation from a woman. If she said it.. she got her way. Period. (Partly this is because his mother is a lunatic..)

So I was left most of the marriage trying to get out of my ex what it was that he wanted. I tried coaxing it out of him. I tried giving him options of compromises that I'd agree to.. to which he merely let me do whatever it was I wanted.. all the while myself knowing that he had an opinion he just didn't want to share it.

He refused to tell me things that might possibly in some way of any kind.. upset me. Sometimes these were minor things.. he'd broken a glass.. and sometimes these were major things.. the company was downsizing or there was something wrong with his health.

To most people.. he'd be considered a nice guy.. to me, he was a doormat. Passive-aggressive. His way of dealing (by not dealing) caused me more stress than anything. I worried. I fretted. I nearly drove myself crazy trying to get answers out of him.

Then I gave up. Really. He said it was ok to get whatever curtains I wanted. I would. I stopped consulting him on things. I did whatever I wanted. He did whatever he wanted. We had our routine and stuck to that. I pretended not to care.. until I really didn't anymore.

Probably needless to say that we drifted apart. The thing is.. the relationship probably could have been salvaged.. if only we'd had that fight. We had the anger anyway. We had the resentment. We just never had the resolution.

Since then, I've noticed how that has changed me. Downside: I don't press people for anything anymore (which often means I don't ask anyone any questions and it can look like I don't care). Upside: If someone doesn't answer me, or doesn't want to talk to me.. I move on without care to someone who does.

But I also find myself really liking a good argument (not a forced argument.. don't be silly and try to make a fight) where both viewpoints are expressed.. I find myself respecting the other person a whole ton.. and sometimes finding them sexy where before I did not.

Its not about arguing for arguement's sake.. its about the freedom to express yourself and your partner feeling free to express themselves.. its not about the conflict.. its about your ability to have it and still come to a resolution.

Its not the fight.. its the making up. Its about honesty. Its about trust. Its about making sure you’re both on the same path… Together.

Just A Good Long Cry

I'd been getting worried about myself the last week or month really. I began wondering if I was turning into some kind of sociopath or something as I couldn't seem to access my emotions.  I wanted to cry sometimes but couldn't. Things that should have had me rolling on the floor would merely make me smile or just not phase me at all.

I'd been thinking about the ex often. Not in a romantic way, but more so in an angry wishing him harm kind of way. I found myself containing volumes of anger and bitterness, and I didn't like it one bit but also felt powerless to do anything about it.

To be honest what really scared me the most was that night with Hock. He'd be sweet and thoughtful.. giving actually.. and instead of triggering the same in me, I found myself getting angry. It was sweet stuff that threatened to melt my heart, and I resisted it. I didn't want to feel anything, and I found myself angry at Hock for making me even try to feel anything.

All this last week, the slightest kind thing on TV or clip forwarded to me from Youtube, and I'd get choked up.

Then last night's Glee. The dam burst and I cried like a baby through the entire show. At first, it was the small little touching moments of the show that got my tears flowing, but somewhere in the middle I just broke down and cried, a hard uncontrollable sob-fest.

I think its the first real big cry I've had since we'd started the whole divorce process (well once I knew it was really divorce), let alone the first big cry since the divorce.

All that anger, resentment, stress, fear, etc... finally bubbled back to the surface and let itself out.

After the show was over, I cried a little more then dried my tears. I felt better. I felt human.

It really was a good long cry, and something I truly needed.

I Can Do IT Myself

I've reached a point of clarity I think. Or at least I feel like I have a plan, a goal, something to work for..

Mostly, I have hope which has been lacking in the last few weeks, and a very observant man told me that a depressing theme has ran through this blog lately. Hopefully, that is now over. (Everyone cross your fingers.)

Since my ex left, I've been in a recovery from the tailspin. For many reasons which I've not gone into detail here, and I most likely won't, I've not had a good long-term outlook for potential employment. It was part of the reason that I was a housewife.

To put it simply... 

Worst case scenario: I may end up living in a bubble (almost literally).. meaning I may not be able to leave my home except for extenuating circumstances.

Best case scenario: I may never need to worry about any of this ever again, and can do whatever, whenever I want with no worries.

Best case scenario right now though is more of a fantasy than a reality, which is what I was trying to get at in my previous post about Self-Analysis.  I cannot plan on it.

I did realize the other day that I instead can make the best of this bad situation, so for the last several days I've been brainstorming career moves.

If I'm going to be saddled with living in a bubble, its going to be the Taj Mahal of bubbles, damn it! (So I need to pull in some dough)

Once I embraced this, and embraced that I am currently alone and can't expect others to build it for me.. (and discarded a bunch of self-pity I'd been holding onto)

I began to feel empowered in a way I've not felt since this whole bubble thing first was threatened on me. I've always been a "I can do it myself" person. Even from infancy, but somewhere along the road I forgot it.

I also began thinking of all the things I want to do, and things I've been wanting to do for a while now. Business plans, projects, and philanthropic ventures.  As I began thinking about those, I would discard one after another for either being a pipedream (inventing shoes that constantly keep your feet at a suitable temperature is a bit out of my skill-set) and other ideas because they would require work from others which I cannot pay for right now.

Most of this work that I would need someone else to do is computer related and something that would have been in the skillset of my ex or several of my exes.

I also realized that I don't really have a tech guy in the wings that I can run to for these things as I've always had in the past.  I ran through my memories of past relationships and almost every computer problem or upgrade or even building a new machine... was done either by a guy in my life or with the supervision of a guy in my life.

Despite the fact that since I discovered the internet in 1992 (I think that was the year) I've never been without a computer and have always spent a good portion of every day on one... I myself have never really sought out learning more about them (unless I needed to.. I like to do things myself, so yes I made them teach me the stuff I needed to know) and in part have been spoon fed everything I know about whats new in computers from the guys I've dated.

This spoon-feeding is gone.  I left my network of "go-to" geeks  in Chicago, and lost touch with many of them as they married and as I married.  With my ex no longer in the picture, there is this gaping tech hole.

I think part of the reason I love tech-geeks is that I really do like computers.  But like mowing the lawn or changing the oil in my car, I've considered it a guy's job.  Not that I couldn't do it, but a skill-set that I was lacking. 

And if I'm honest.. I also think it was partly a way for me to be that "Damsel in distress" and a way for them to be the "Hero".

I know this was the case with my ex.  When my ex and I got together, I was pretty tech-savvy for the time period.  Hardware mostly, but tech-savvy.  When we got married, I sort of dropped the tech.  He had a Masters in computers and could spin circles around me... he also didn't have the patience to teach me anything and preferred to be the "Hero".. So I let him and I concentrated my efforts on my skills that he was lacking.  And had the relationship worked, this division of labor would have been ok.

So there's a void in my geek contact. Majorly.  And part of me wants to fill that void with a nice tech-savvy sexy geek.

But as I thought about it, geeks and me haven't had the most successful track-record. Do I really want to limit my dating pool that much?  Is it really realistic? Isn't it a bit too superficial?

Anyway, it dawned on me that I really like working with computers. So I began investigating careers, and what it would take for me to get some skills to make a living.

The more I read. The more I loved it. The more excited I got.

I've always thought of myself as a geek-wannabe or a geek-groupie, but what I'm starting to realize is that I really am a geek.

and

I really don't need someone else to be geek for me.. I can do it myself!

Why I Hate Football...

I didn't mention it the other day... nor did I really mention this to the person who kick-started the whole train of thought which is this post.  Friday night's conversation about why I have a deep seated loathing for football, opened up some old wounds that I had forgotten. I almost broke into tears while on the phone, and almost cried about it when I got off the phone.

It honestly shocked me this sudden emotion about something so silly as football.

So I thought about it. I have good memories of football. I have great memories of football. But I also have many many horrid memories of football.

I have never watched football for the game though. Ever.  Dear Ex's.. no matter what I told you, I never ever watched football because I actually wanted to watch the game. Never. Not Once.

I grew up in Nebraska as most of you know by now. Its a huge football state. College Football. The NFL is for losers and douchebags (hey its how I was raised). 

So most of my childhood was entire fall seasons of football games. Watching them on TV when televised (rare) or listening to the game on the radio while watching or helping my dad putter around in the garage.

One of my favorite and probably earliest memories of watching football was sitting on my grandfather's lap in my parent's basement. Everyone else was doing something else. Mom & Grandma were talking something boring (I was like 5, all adult talk was boring) and my sisters were doing their usual doing something beyond my young kid skills or otherwise ostracizing me.  So I went to see if I could sneak in some TV since I was bored (we were limited to 2 hours only a day and we didn't have cable). 

There was Grandpa watching the game. I knew enough to know he wouldn't let me switch the channel, and I was not rude enough to ask. But he offered to share his easy chair with me, and let me watch the game with him. He even took the time to tell me what was happening on the screen.

I have other random memories of watching with my father and other family members. It was a social time. A bonding time. But for me, it was never about the game.

In college, one of my guy friends who I'd always wanted to date (and whom everyone else thought we were dating.. and whom ended up being gay) invited me to some Husker game parties. It was just a fun time with food, and cheering, and bonding.  But it was never about the game.

Then came my ex.

He'd gotten turned onto football a couple years earlier, and said he liked the Saints. It was the first and only team he'd ever watched live, and watched the games with his ex's father.

I've always disliked the Saints. I honestly don't give a rats-ass about most teams. Never did. I could care less if you're a Packers or Steelers or Bears or Redskins (are those all NFL football teams?) fan. But I've never liked the Saints. (I'm serious.. cheering for the Saints to me is a lot like cheering for evil or poison.. I don't know what it is.. but I just have never liked the Saints.. You know if they changed their name to the Zombies, I'd probably like them)

He said he didn't have to watch the Saints.. he just liked football. (Total lie)

One lie lead to another really. I'm not going to say its all his fault, as I'm sure I've got a hand in this too.

But what he'd told me was just a one day a week thing, suddenly became 2. Then 3. Then 4.  Anytime I wanted to go somewhere, there's a game.  It started with "I have to watch the Saint's play" to "I have to watch everyone play because it all ties into how the Saint's will do on...blah blah blah"

Sundays were completely wasted because there was the pre-pre-game, the pre-game, the introduction to the game, the game, the exit of the game, the post game, and the post-post game.

Combine this with being able to walk into the room wearing nothing but a piece of lingerie, and not be noticed (even during a post-game or pre-game show).. I began to really hate football.

Just the sound of the game in the background got my hackles up.

Soon regular NFL wasn't enough. There was the sports packages, the NFL packages, the no-one-cares old NFL game packages.. and then he got into college football. He wanted to decorate the living room in Saint's football stuff as well.

Football played 24/7 in the house. I honestly half the time didn't know if the game he was watching was "the game" or just some rerun or not.  So I didn't know if I should be nice and not interrupt or if I was free to interrupt. I was supposed to just "know".. you know.. 

So now there's a crapload of pain and anger about football and the good memories were drowning in it.  But I am healing.

At the start of this football season (and even before that) the mere mention of football, and I'd tense up. I'd get twinges of anxiety, anger, and hatred.

The other night on the phone, when asked about the SuperBowl, I discovered I wasn't angry. I really hadn't been angry when football was mentioned in weeks.. or maybe months. 

I still don't like the Saints, but I now can hear that word and the "Who Dat" without wanting to punch something.

Baby Steps.

You Gotta Have Balls

@Moxie In The City's blog post today "Take the Lead" reminded me of my new post-divorce philosophy of dating.  One that I keep seeing people say is wrong, but one that I am not about to compromise much on.

In short, I want a man who is after me like I'm the last filet mignon in the world.

I am no longer settling for a guy who is just "so-so" on me, or not demonstrative of his intentions or affections.  I want to have no doubts that he's into me.

I also want someone with a backbone. Who is not afraid to take charge, make decisions, and fight with me when needed.

Doormats and indecisives need not apply.

Sure sure, I'll make a move to let him know that I'm attracted to him. I may reach out and give him my number unasked. I may hunt him down and give him my email or whatever.

Then the balls in his court.  I'm more than happy to wait to see what he does with those balls, and if he knows how to use them.

I'll forgive him for muddling things up if he does.. as long as he's showing the ability and willingness to hold the balls and use them to win me.

If all we end up doing is tossing the balls back and forth like a hot potato.. he's much too much of a chicken to handle me.

Guys... if a girl tosses you the ball, run with it.  If you simply toss it back to her, expect her to run off or run you over.  Since I'm no longer in the market for roadkill or doormats, Imma gunna run off. Guaranteed.

On this note, I'm currently waiting to see if Mac uses the ball. I've emailed him, gave him my number, and even initiated the last contact.  Ball is in his court.

Do's and Don'ts of Splitting

So I ran across this blog article today, and it set me off.  It's all about the Do's and Don'ts of breaking up, by Cereal Daters

Which honestly, there are good ways and bad ways to break up. Ways to do it with the least damage to other person, and with the friendship you had somewhat still intact.

And it takes communication to do it.

This article, to me, is all that is wrong with breaking up... ok.. not all.. just some.

The article first states: "Don't Tell Him"- which I assume is don't tell him why you're splitting, because not telling him you're breaking up with him is just way too immature for words.

So let me address the "don't give him the reasons".. Depending on who you're dating, reasons may or may not be needed. Some people really need them for closure. Sure leave off the stupid stuff that you know is going to light a fire (aka he leaves the seat up, his hairy ass is disgusting, or whatever) but explaining that the relationship is no longer good for you.. isn't a bad idea. Whatever you do, make it clear that you're moving on. Period. But do try to be nice about it, this is someone you used to care for. Treat them accordingly.

Next "Do Tell Your Homegirls" -  Do tell your friends that you've split. Do not however bad mouth him to them unless you can back it up. Slander and rumors are never cool. Roasting him just because you no longer want to be his girlfriend/lover will only bite you in the ass later.. not to mention makes you look petty and bitter.

"Don't play mom" - A girlfriend should never ever play mother to a man. Sorry. However, if you've been together for a while, and he truly needs your help with something that only you can help with.. Help him out. If he's making crap up like he needs you to help him change his tire, give him the number to a towing company and be done with it.  But if you've been together for a while, and his mother tragically dies soon after you've broken up and he wants you there for moral support (and you knew his family).. then be there.. platonically. No snuggling. No kissy. No pookie/sweety. If he's throwing those kind of cards, walk out. You do need to stand your ground that its over.

"Don't hang on to any sentimental items" - You had good times. You had bad times. No one is 100% bad 100% of the time. You're going to have sentimental things. You're going to grieve for the loss of those good times. Throwing away anything that reminds you of those good times seems a little overkill, but having a housefull of momentos isn't healthy either. Pick a few good memories to keep if you'd like (especially anything of re-wearable value - aka jewelry) and pack them away some place that you'll see them much less.

"Don't convince yourself that you're over-reacting" - WTF? This process should already be hashed out prior to saying goodbye. You made a choice. Stick to it. Remember your reasons for splitting. Take notes. Learn from your mistakes so you don't do the same things in your next relationship.

"Do cut off all forms of communication" - Whoah dawgies. Do you seriously have some hate on for this guy? What did he do? Do not do this for most people that you break up with. This is only needed if the person is unhealthy to have in your life in any way.  Aka drug dealer, drug addict, bad alcoholic, criminal behavior, etc. or you're actually afraid for your life. (or in cases where the person has gone completely nutso and is now harassing and stalking you.)

Going this extreme with someone sane and loving, is a good way to get them to bad mouth you to everyone they know. Everyone they meet in the future... thats a lot of people. A lot of potential dates.  Its a small world out there. Watch out what bridges you're burning.

"Don't think its okay to hang around mutual friends" - Friends are important. They will pick which side they're on. Of course, you're not going to be able to tell these friends all the sordid details of your breakup, save that for your own friends.  But don't throw the mutual friends out yet.  Once the breakup is done, you may find they're just as fun as they ever were.

I do agree with her on her last statement though..

"Do be strong... this is always easier said than done."

My main advice for breaking up ... is simple.  Be nice. Be compassionate. Listen, but be unmovable. You've made up your mind. Stick to it. Wavering will only cause you and them much more heartbreak.

Separated Rant

As someone who is relatively newly divorced, I take issue with complaints about "separated" statuses or divorced statuses. Sure sure there are creeps out there, but most of the truly married dudes aren't going to be using "separated". Instead they're going to be using "single" or "divorced", because it gets more play.

I take issue that people speak for God. And there are lots of stupid legal red tape that has little to do with love, relationships, or anything... as to why people are "separated".

How I was raised, I was completely divorced in the eyes of God the day my husband left me for another woman. His sexual congress with her and telling the world he was with her, and discarding me, more than declared in God's eyes that I was divorced according to the Christianity that I was taught. However, legally I was still married.

So in all aspects of being honest, I placed "separated" on my status until I was legally divorced.

I don't have issue with people that don't want to date "separated" people. Its not usually a good choice for long term love affairs, but not everyone is looking for something long-term anyway.

Telling someone that they cannot date because some paperwork wasn't finished, is infantile. You don't know their situation.

There are people who have been battling to get a divorce for over a year, who in honesty should have a "separated" status. Do you think it fair that they be alone for years and dateless because their ex keeps dragging out the process?

Separated can mean many things, but most of the time it means the paperwork isn't finished for whatever reasons those might be. Rarely if ever does it mean they're working on their marriage.

So maybe instead of auto-piloting into judging, you should ask questions instead. Seeing "separated" in any case shouldn't irritate you or anger you, instead be glad they're being honest and move on.

Freedom Party 2009

Last night started out depressing. Sure sure I set it up last minute because I'd just remembered the day before what day yesterday was. Next year, I'll plan better.

The whole "party" idea started the day before last as I admitted to Evie on the phone that December 1st was the one year anniversary of my "singleness". She said that we needed to celebrate. Needed... HAD to celebrate. She insisted. I was perfectly fine just being happy I was single, but she insisted that we mark the occasion.

So all monday night I thought about what I wanted to do, asked around about who had the best happy hours, and planned on calling places yesterday morning to find out the exact happy hour things and reserve tables etc.

I woke up yesterday morning, freezing. I was cold and did not.. NOT want to get out of bed. I did get out of bed only to find that it was 45 degrees and raining. I did not feel like going anywhere, or drinking, or barhopping. But I'd promised Evie I would do something.

So I instead planned a calm evening. 6:30pm Dinner at Panera (where they have hot tea, and hot soups) and maybe a few card games or board games. Something chilling with friends. Easy. Warm. No Stress.

I post it for everyone to see, especially for my friends. I invite a group I organize, as well as anywhere else that comes to mind where Austinites might find it. I have no problems meeting strangers. I give out my phone# and email, so people can contact me to let me know to expect them or not.

Evie says she's coming, because she promised. So when I didn't hear from anyone all day except a few "I already have plans" or "I can't make it", I figured we'd just have a calm girl's night.

About 5:30pm I get a text from a girl that I wasn't sure I liked. We'd met before but she always seemed a little "too nice" to me which makes me uncomfortable. She was coming. Well at least there'd be Evie to buffer, so ok we might still have fun.

At 5:45pm, Gety calls. She goes through this entire monologue about getting off at 5pm and not wanting to go home because if she goes home she'll just stay there, so she got groceries. She picks up refrigerated stuff, so she has to go home anyway. (Even though I tell her its cold enough to just let it sit in her car) She probably won't make it because once she's home she probably won't go back out. Uh huh, ok. I'm still a little skittish on her anyway from our last outing so I'm not that upset.

While I'm talking to Gety, Evie txts me to ask if I'd forgive her if she bailed. She got her period and has cramps.. blah blah blah. I told her I of course would forgive her... in a way that also said "I'm pissed at you".

"Well you all can come over here."

Honey if you're well enough to host, you're well enough to come to f'n Panera. I told her I'd pick her up, trying to be nice and not wanting to spend the night alone with Overly-friendly girl. She asked how long I'd stay, and whatnot. She then said she just couldn't make it. She was already in her PJ's, but again pleaded that we all "just come over to her place." It was all I could do not to say "F U" and so I just didn't respond. My mother's "say something nice or say nothing at all" kicked in.

So I headed to Panera with a deck of cards, and a growing sense of defeat. I was still pumped that it was "Freedom Day", don't get me wrong, but I was less than impressed with my friends.

I get there, order, and pick out a good spot and wait for Overly-Friendly Girl. Shortly she arrives. Breezes in actually, and she smiles an infectiously happy smile. She doesn't even seem disappointed that its just the two of us, and I realize that I'm the one with the problem.

I realize that I should be happy that I'm not alone. I've got Freedom to celebrate, and someone came who actually was happy to see me. That rocks! Her happy spirit picked up mine, and we had a great chat.

We'd just finished eating and a gentleman came over.

"Are you Maruska?"

I looked at him stunned. I'd checked my phone just before Overly-Friendly Girl arrived. No emails or txts that anyone else was coming. I didn't recognize this guy from anywhere, so I was pretty sure it wasn't some kind of "fan" who just happened to run into me.

"yes...umm?" I replied hesitantly.

He quickly said he'd come to join us, and apologized for being late. Though OFG and I were having a great conversation, I thought it was great someone else had come. I just wished he'd have given me a little heads up.

He turned out to be a great addition. We talked about lots of things, even African politics. OFG is an import from South Africa. I actually learned more about African politics and economics than I've ever known. It was a good time.

After he finished eating, I broke out the cards. Funny enough neither of them had ever heard of or played "Go Fish", so we played a game of that. Then we moved on to Rummy. We were having a blast when I got a text message from Chrissy.

"I just got off work. Are you still at Panera?"

Chrissy had to work late and so had previously cancelled, but had really wanted to come. I told her we were there playing some cards. She said she'd be right there.

She arrives and hands me a coupon. Funny enough she just took a job working at my favorite clothing store for some extra cash, and as a benefit of her job got coupons to hand out to her friends for a 40% discount (her employee discount) on anything in the store. Totally loving her! Happy Freedom Day to me!

The four of us spent the remainder of the night talking about dating. Do's, Don'ts, and Run like the Wind. I felt a little sorry for Al (the one guy), but I think he came away with a much better understanding of women, and we got him to voice his male opinion on a couple topics as well.

OFG (she's actually really cool, so I should give her a real name someday like Lynette), Chrissy, and I are all single and all relatively newly single. We'll probably be spending a whole lot more time together.

So maybe I should be glad everyone else bailed. :)


PS.. Chrissy and I talked a bit after everyone left. I was asking her to go to the art museum with me on Friday and asked her to not invite Jessie. She said that wouldn't be a problem. Evidently on Saturday night (Suburban Clubbing), Jessie had flirted with, hotmama-danced with, and in all other ways attempted to steal Chrissy's new boyfriend. Both the boyfriend and Jessie are knee-deep in hot water. Go Chrissy Go!

Happy Freedom Day!

I feels like its been years, ages really, since I was married. Yet, today marks my one year anniversary of being single.

One year ago today, I came home from Thanksgiving to find the house empty. It seems like a distant nightmare from another person entirely. At the time, I panicked and I remember how horrible it seemed.

But honestly, I was also relieved. It was done. It was over. I could stop fighting to make it work, and just relax and enjoy myself.

It didn't take me long to get into fully relieved and move-on mode. I've never really been the type to dwell on lost causes. If someone doesn't want me and I believe they won't want me, I've always been more than happy to move on and find someone who does. I've never really been afraid to be single.

With my ex, it was a little bit of "he doesn't want me" and a whole lot of "I don't want him". The way he left was cowardly. He's done right by me though, but he still is a coward when it comes to any kind of conflict. It was how he left that really reminded me that I needed out and away from him.

So today is a celebration of freedom. Of moving on. Of choices. Of hope.

I honestly couldn't think of a better holiday to start the Christmas season! Merry Christmas! Happy Chanukah! Happy WhateverWinterHolidayYouLike!

Experience With Suburban Clubbing

I went out last night fearing the worst. I really wanted to celebrate with Chrissy that her divorce was final, but I did not want to have to deal with Jessie. It honestly takes a lot for me to loathe someone, and I loathe Jessie. So I was not really looking forward to what should be an awesome girlfest.

I was wearing my grey leopard print blouse which is see through in certain lighting, med-dark jeans, and my black dancing shoes. I normally avoid wearing this blouse because I'm not that comfortable with invisible shirts, but decided to be a bit of a slut as a celebration of being divorced and free. Plus, I was pretty certain I wouldn't run into anyone important at the club since it was in suburbia. (By the way, the lighting in the club was not the right kind of lighting to make the shirt invisible. So I looked a little more "proper" than I intended.)

I drove out to Pflugerville to a burb-club. It was my first time there, and it wasn't too bad. The place is like 6 bars in one, with one room of girls dancing on the bar top, a karaoke room, a country dance room, a hip-hop room, and some other room which I never did figure out the theme.

Almost everyone there was roughly my age or older. Actually there were quite a few older country/cowboy type men. Unfortunately, I don't have those kind of daddy issues.

The group with Chrissy was pretty large (about 15 people) and diverse. A few people I'd never met before, a new male import from Chicago, and a couple from San Antonio looking to move to Austin. The wife was always out dancing or something, and the husband decided that I was a good woman to get to know. While flattering, I'm not sure I'm really that open minded.

The Chicagoan though looked a little tasty. Physically he was ok. Not really my type, but I thought I'd get to know him just in case. He was a little shy, so I drew him out by talking about Chicago. We shared stories about the differences between here and Chicago.

Then we got to talking about fashion. The guy is not gay, but really should be. We talked about the absence of fashion sense among most of Austin. I of course defended Austin a bit as its a different culture than Chicago and a different climate so changes in fashion need to be made. But when I first arrived in Austin, I was a lot like him and saw no reason for people to dress the way they do.

He then went on to try to explain to me as if I'm stupid about Cavalli and other fashion designers.

"You know Cavalli?"

I of course look at him like he's a moron and to just get to his point. Mostly because I'm insulted, and secondly because I couldn't care less about most designer names.

He looks at me like I obviously don't know what Cavalli is.

"Yes, I know Cavalli.. whats your point?"

"This shirt is Cavalli. Its the most expensive shirt I own. Most people here wouldn't know that."

I look at his shirt. Its a nice button up shirt. Sure. But does it look nice? Oh hell no. Sure on someone else it might. Under a suit, it might. In a business setting it might. But the striped shirt honestly looked like some kind of retarded country wear and did absolutely nothing for his complexion. I told him so as nicely as I could.

He attempted not to be offended, and then went on.

"You know Diana Von Furstenberg?"

It was condescending and yet not a rhetorical question. He waited for me to answer.

"Yes I know who she is."

"You know she perfected the wrap dress. It looks good on everyone."

I had to laugh at this. If you've ever seen me in a wrap dress, you'd know that they don't look good on everyone. Sure it might look better than some options, but it does not look good on me.

"Not everyone. THIS" I motioned to my body. "Does not look good in a wrap dress, trust me."

He tried to argue. He lost.

I then explained to him my take on "Fashion". Yes keeping up with the current trends is good, but its not all about having the latest and greatest name brands. The designer label on most things means absolutely squat to me. Yes I know designer names and styles, but I choose my clothes by how they fit and look on me. Sometimes that means a $5 t-shirt over a $50 one, or sometimes a $100 blouse over a $20 one.

I often get compliments on my outfits and choice of clothing and accessories. I even did when I lived in Chicago.

One of the biggest fashion mistakes that anyone can make is to assume that because the label is "haute couture" it will look good on them. This is the mistake that Mr Chicago was making. For him, it was less about looking good and more about status.

It was this that put him in my Douche-bag Hall of Fame. It didn't help that later in the evening he "judged" a woman who was just recently separated who has 3 kids and was a housewife prior to the separation.. now unemployed. He said..

"You know someone will have to pay for that divorce, and you know it won't be her. She's just looking for someone to pay for it. Totally not interested in her, because she'll find a way to make me pay for it."

And then, about 20 minutes later he left with her anyway. Obviously the woman has bad taste in men. I feel sorry for her.

Fortunately, Jessie was pure nice the entire night. Not fake nice. Not bitchy nice. But considerate nice. I don't know if Chrissy wore off on her, or if she was trying to get back on my good side. I really didn't care. For Chrissy's sake I was nice back.

Chrissy's best friend, Jen came over to me and asked where'd I'd been lately. I turn down every invite from Chrissy once I know that Jessie is coming. I just can't handle Jessie's drama. So I told Jen that.

"You know even if I don't like someone, I can tolerate them usually. It really takes a lot for me to hate someone like this. So I'm sorry, but if Jessie is coming I most likely won't."

Jen asked exactly what Jessie did. I explained to her that Jessie was usually so boy crazy that any guy I talked to she'd show up and try to dominate the conversation in any way that she could find. She even went so far as to belittle me or slip in something derogatory about me to make me look less attractive.

Jen smiled knowingly. She said that at first she thought Jessie was nice, but lately has started to see that side of Jessie. She was getting tired of Jessie. She said that it wouldn't be too long before Chrissy started noticing as well, and that they didn't always do everything with Jessie. She said she'd make sure to invite me on those occasions.

I really hate being the bitch. I used to just go with everything. Let people do what they wanted, and grin and bear it. But one thing I learned during my marriage is that I don't have to be a doormat. I've actually had enough of that. It was something I was taught as a child as a way to be attractive and part of being a woman, but in the last few years have decided that it's not... and it's definitely not me. I honestly used to get insulted when people thought I was a dominant person, now its like a badge of honor.

So while I can smile and nod with the best of them.. I don't have to and I won't be unless its because of something I want.

The rest of the night went well. I got hit on by several more men. Each unsuitable for various reasons, but it was nice and flattering.. and fun.

And I have almost perfected my club dancing. Ask me to Salsa, Two-step, Waltz, Swing and I can put on a decent show of following if not impress you. Free style club dancing? Not so much. So I've decided my club dancing niche is comedic dancing, and I had Chrissy rolling. She couldn't even do her dancing because she was laughing so hard. Yeah baby.. I'm hot like that!

Woke up Sunday morning with a massive headache, coughing, and the stench of cigarette smoke. One thing I love about Austin bars is that they're smoke-free. Pflugerville wasn't. Sure it was smoke-lite, and I don't recall having trouble breathing due to smoke but I remember smelling some. (I have a heightened sensitivity to smoke.) It just reminded me of why I go downtown and another reason to dislike suburban bars in Austin.

Happy Non-Committed

I'm in a silly mood today. I assume after yesterday's emotional travel back in time, that I'm rebelling and being cheerful. Whatever.

I woke up today with a big "I don't care what you think" world attitude and a smile on my face.

I keep thinking that I've healed from my divorce. Honestly, I much more healed than most of my fellow divorcees of similar time lapses.. but I also see so much more to go for me.

Which might be why I've backed off dating. Or might be because I've yet to meet someone (other than Don) that really got me thinking about what I'm missing.

For the most part, I could care less if I have a boyfriend. I don't need one. I'm not desperate. Sure regular sex would be great, someone to go to parties with me, a snuggle partner for movies... or even just someone to call 911 for me.

But with that always comes sacrifices. I'd have to shave my legs every day. I'd be required to go to things that they liked whether I liked it (its only fair). I might have to change the kind of sheets on the bed or put away a piece of artwork I currently love. I may be encouraged to have longer or shorter hair, or to wear certain things. I might have to make choices between where I want to go, and where he might want to go.

While these are just general things that most people will willingly do to make their new partner feel loved or make themselves more attractive to them.. These are also things that I find myself still nearly breaking into hives at the mere thought.. of "Having to".

I'm no where near ready to be saddled again or have any kind of restrictions on what I do or don't do .. by anyone else but me.

I do know though that when I meet the right person these things that currently have me bordering on an anxiety attack, will merely be trifles. I've seen myself bordering on "love" recently and with that person these things would seem silly. I have little problem giving up things or changing things to put someone important into my life.

And it is that particular trait in me that has lead me to where I am and my current anti-commitment anxiety. For me to embrace that giving side, I need to make sure that the person I'm taking a chance on is worth it and not just some passing fancy.

I know what I want, and this time I'm not settling for less.

So while I may spend today dateless, tomorrow dateless.. I'm ok with that. I'm very ok with that. I'm me. I'm free. I'm happy with that!

Discovering Landmines

Its been a *headdesk* day for me, or better yet a "Foot-in-Mouth" day.. maybe even a talking out of my ass day. It all started with this tweet.

"Wonder if there's a greeting card for this holiday? RT @avflox: Guess what, you guys! It's International Quickie Day! http://bit.ly/1hBfON " - by Harry Lang

I attempted to be funny in my own warped way of being:

"Oh no! Its the male Valentines day! RT @harrylang RT @avflox: It's International Quickie Day! http://bit.ly/1hBfON " - By Maruska

Which .. well then prompted this:

"International Quickie Day is "male Valentine's Day"? @maruskamorena does quickies a gross disservice. What do you think?" - by Av Flox

Which prompted this post. If you're a long time reader, you know I have a few sexual hang-ups. Most everyone does by this age anyway.

What I didn't expect was just how bitter I found myself to be. I don't know if I've been repressing it or if its just something about today. (The ex somehow made it into my thoughts this morning.) But as soon as I saw the tweet from Av Flox, I knew I needed to do some soul searching.

Why would I think that "quickies" were merely male desired? I, myself, am not that closed minded am I?

So I began to think about my past, which is really not a good thing to do sometimes, and I realized that based on my past history.. Quickies have never ever been a good thing.

Don't get me wrong. I love sex. I enjoy casual sex and commitment sex. I like good sex and great sex.. and sometimes even bad sex is better than no sex.. sometimes anyway.

But I've never had a good quickie. Oh sure the quickie itself was fine. It was what happened after it that wasn't.

There were the "I'd like some quick sex, but I'm going to break up with you right after." or the "I can't wait til after the party, I have to have you now.. followed by a night of completely ignoring me in public" or many variations of that. Quickies in my past have all been "Lets get this over so I can ignore you." or "I've already got the sex today so I don't need to even try anymore."

As I'm typing this, I realize just how completely sad that is. How wrong it is, and how much crap I put up with without a single complaint.

I really really hate finding those emotional landmines in me. I hate that they're there. But in discovering them, I am now aware of them and can heal them. In time anyway.

In Time.

Where Can I Meet Someone?

I've been asked several times or at least have heard it bandied about..

How do you meet so many men? Where can I meet someone to date?

Now I could merely say "Get Out There, baby!", but thats a little condescendingly simple and not very helpful. Having plenty of time to waste "getting out there" helps a lot, but not everyone has that time, and there is only so long you can put off doing laundry or housework in order to put yourself out there.

So putting yourself out there takes a little consideration or you'd just spend your time fruitlessly, which half the time even if you choose how to spend your time wisely it will still be fruitless. So heres a few tips on how to make the best of it.

When I first got separated, I joined a ton of groups of various interests. Being married for so long, you start to forget what it is that you really like yourself and what things you grew to like because of your spouse or other pressures. So I wanted to get out there, see things, and learn more about me.

It is in these groups that I am meeting most of the men that I meet.

However.. and I cannot stress this strong enough.. Never join a group with the expressed interest to meet men/women. Well unless its a singles group, and then thats kind of the purpose of the beast.

Only join groups in which you will have an interest that it shared with the other members. Join groups that you will find fun, educational, and interesting. If you find a group that isn't fun or interesting, quit it and find something more suited to you.

If I learned nothing else from my failed marriage, I learned this: Shared interests no matter how insignificant are key to developing relationship bonds.

Now if your only interests lie in things based in your own gender and you're heterosexual, you may want to seek outside the box for groups. (If you're a girl and only interest is knitting, pretty sure most of the men you meet knitting won't be interested in you.)

So seek out unisex interests like book clubs, wine lovers, beer lovers, art lovers, happy hour, writing groups, philosophy discussion, hiking groups. Find something that you love and you'd love to share with your future partner. Even if s/he isn't at that group event, you'll enjoy yourself and maybe learn something.

And it may seem overly obvious, but its very true, people are attracted to people having fun. So its essential that you can have fun at the group in itself.

Shared Interests groups are also awesome for one other reason. They have built in icebreakers. In writing groups.."What do you write?" or "What are you working on now?" or even a more forward "I'd love to see your work." In book clubs, you can ask their opinion on books. In alcohol lovers groups, you can ask what they're drinking and what brands they enjoy. These groups make it much easier to start discussions.

Another plus to these groups is a key factor why often internet relationships fail. Mutual friends/aquantances. If you go to a group often enough, you'll make friends with the same people. You'll get to know a prospective partner not only through your one on one conversations but how they react to others and how others react to them. You'll already have a base of friends in common to encourage you to work together.

It is also this base of mutual friends and the mutual love of the group that will keep both of you from moving too fast. You'll get to know each other and have a better potential for a real relationship.

Other than joining groups, there are ways to meet people in other places, but its a little harder and you really have to keep your eyes open. These other places also will hold much more rejection and less common ground. Please keep in mind that these are places to keep your eyes open, not places to stalk prey. No one really wants to be prey. :)

Mailbox - If you live in a nice apt complex, time your mailbox visits to the time where the mailbox is the most busy thus giving you the chance to see your neighbors and maybe meet someone. (Do use caution with this one, since this person knows where you live, you'll want to take things slow to make sure they're not mentally ill or dangerous.)

Stores - Grocery stores, gas stations, etc. If you see someone you like, take a chance and make conversation. They may be married or taken, but you won't know if you don't try.

Nights Out - Restaurants, bars, etc. Bars are the least likely places to meet someone for a real relationship, but its still a possibility. Restaurants aren't bad places though. Once you get over 30, many established men eat out alone as they may not cook.

Then there is the infamous Online Dating .. and well most of us know way more than we'd like about that.

Mental Help Please!

I am in many ways screwed. This is how it is often, and why I very much doubt that I'll ever find someone I really like to like me back.

The crux of my problem is a very deep seated issue of trust.. or shall I say distrust.

So when I find myself knee-deep in like with someone all bets are off.. Actually if people wanted to take up bets, it would be a really safe bet that I will in a relatively short time piss said someone off to the point of never speaking to me again.

I realized yesterday that I am at this particular stage of hell with Mr. Christian. To fully grasp why I am at this stage of like with him so quickly requires me to backtrack to my youth.

Since the beginning of time as I've known it, I have always wanted a good Christian husband. I was raised by a very religious family. We went to church every Sunday. We didn't socialize with most other families in town (900 population) but those that went to our small church. As such, church was my social life for the first 5 yrs of my life. School and church became my social life until I left for college, and yes I mean literally (or close enough).

Though I lived in a small town or maybe especially because I lived in a small town, I wasn't allowed to socialize like most kids my age. 90% of my class were products of divorced parents or products of single motherhood. Due to my mother's religious beliefs and possibly concern for my safety, I was not allowed to go anyone's house whose parents or adults in the home were not married. I could visit if their parent was single and not dating, but as soon as they were dating or having "sleepovers" I was no longer allowed. I wasn't allowed to be out past dark until High School, and then I had to be home at 10pm unless I was at a valid school function. I wasn't allowed to hang out downtown at the gas station or ride the streets. In a small town, word nearly always got back to my mother and so it wasn't worth the risk.

I joined nearly every school activity possible and made peace with being an outcast and social misfit. The only place I felt any kind of social comfort was at church once we moved to a larger church in a nearby city where there were several kids my age. The larger church was amazing and lead by a very conservative yet strangely open-minded pastor (maybe open-minded is a bit misleading, he encouraged free thought, biblical education, and discussion rather than people just swallowing absentmindedly whatever he said). He began me on the religious path that I've been on, and sadly has ruined me for any church since, but I'm getting off track.

What I'm trying to get across here is that for the 18 yrs of my life (and longer), church was my social outlet, my safe place, my rock.

It was then I went to college. Up until my college years, my exposure to any kind of Christian man were very few. Most were years older than me and for that reason alone if nothing else, they did not find me suitable. In the large church, there was one man my age and despite any hopes I might have had (he was gorgeous) he never seemed interested. (Due to events after that, I suspect that he may have been gay.)

In college though there were many Christian men, and I was ill prepared for it. Men who would proclaim Christian but wouldn't be. Men who would devote 100's of hours to Christian groups and activities, and yet would do themselves everything they admonished in others. Then there were the real Christian men, and they wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.

The free-thinking pastor had ruined me for them. I was too smart and too biblically educated. I could argue their falsehoods and prove them wrong, for which they found me detestable. Yet, I could not and even now cannot keep silent when I know something is really wrong.

It was this that got me excluded from every Christian venue I've tried. For the first few years of college, I was extremely active in the Christian groups, or so I thought. It wasn't until I was 3 yrs in, that I found out there were bible studies. I had never been invited, and when I found out I tried to join one. I was refused. I tried churches since then, but I never feel comfortable and it doesn't usually take too long before I find something I disagree with that if questioned gets me ostracized.

So my goal of a Christian husband became something of a pipe-dream to me. Because of the way I was treated (over and over again), I slowly began to seek my own religion. Suddenly I woke to most of my friends being agnostics and atheists. To the point where I wondered if anyone really believed in God anymore other than crazies and zealots.

Then there was my ex-husband. When we first started dating, I asked him what religion he was. It really was important to me that he be Christian. He mumbled something about Lutheran being the religion of Norway and that they'd go on Easter and Christmas. He said he was open to attending whatever church I wanted, and learning more about it. From this, I believed him to be at the very least a God-fearing man. I tried to find us a church, but alas it never worked out. It actually wasn't until 3-5 yrs into the marriage that I found out that my husband was actually an atheist. He'd always been an atheist and he'd mislead me. It was monumentally hurtful to me as among other things I loathe lying, but we were married til death do we part. So I tried to move past it, then he left me and we divorced. (One of his best decisions.)

Raised in the breed of Christianity that I was, I gave up on finding a Christian man. I was divorced, and assumed that no Christian man would even think twice about me, let alone my whole free-thinking ways.

Now here is one. He knows I'm divorced. (I believe he is as well.) He's smart, funny, social, and cute. He drinks (I assume in moderation). He believes in pre-marital sex. He doesn't like strip clubs. And he might.. maybe.. like me.

So now that you have an idea of why I'm falling in such deep like with a nearly complete stranger...

The crux of my problem.. When I really like someone like this.. I WILL FUCK IT UP.

Its inevitable. As I tend to guard my heart.

When I start to "love" I don't know any other way than with every part of me. Despite my brain telling me to be cautious, my heart jumps all the way in. Thus I often get hurt and get hurt bad.

So I attempt to guard my heart.

Which results in miscommunications like the following:

"I really love that you're so dedicated to what you believe in" really gets said as "I'm so glad you're not one of those religious freakazoids."

"I'm so glad I met you. I love being around you." really gets said as "Uh yeah, it was fun." or worse "Yeah it was fun though next time give me a heads up so I can put on my comfy shoes"

I turn from flirty and honest into sarcastic and bitchy. I can feel myself doing it already, and I am sooooo trying not to.

I may seriously need some mental help.

Are You Interested?

It's come to my attention that I may have to stop being quite so laid back about dating if I want things to work out. Now after every date, I think I'm going to ask them...

"So, Are you interested?"

I've been chatting with this guy whom I could not figure out. We'd met through "Sugardaddy.com" even though I'm not into what most men there are seeking. Which we discussed in detail our first conversation a couple weeks ago. He said that he wanted to find a relationship as well, with kids and marriage and the whole shebang. It was a good conversation.

Then the next few nights after that first conversation, he'd say "Hi" or send me a "lick" on the website and then get busy with a "phone call" or something and not come back. He'd ask how my day was, I'd ask how his was. We'd both answer and the conversation would die.

I assumed he wasn't interested. I vowed to myself after my ex (who took the backseat in the entire relationship) that I wasn't going to be in another relationship where the guy wasn't head over heels. So if I read him as not interested, I move on... quickly.

So come this past monday, he began re-asking me questions that we'd already discussed our first conversation. I blew my top. It'd barely been a couple weeks and he already forgot what we'd agreed to? Red alarm bells went off in my head. He can't be that into you if he's already forgetting the entire premise of the relationship.

I can't remember now what I'd said, but he knew I was pissed. But I do remember telling him that he didn't seem very interested.

To which, he blew his top. He thought I wasn't interested, but he'd been messaging me every time he saw me online.

*sigh* Communication Fail.

So we're to go out on Sunday.

Then last night, I get a message from Mr Hottub (also known as Mr One-Arm Hug). If you remember way back about the guy I posted about who I swore was not interested, but wanted our second date to be in a hot tub.

Mr H. "Haven't talked to you in awhile. So I'm not meeting too many people on this site. What was the name of that other site you were telling me about? I forgot:)"

I was shocked. He remembered our conversation enough to look me up a month later to ask me about a dating site? But doesn't remember me enough to actually contact me to set up that hot tub date? (which I never heard from him on it) I don't know why this week that I've suddenly grown balls and am telling people off.. but I am.

ME "Seriously? Is this how you're telling me you're not interested?"

Mr. H "what do you mean - I thought you were cute but not interested in me.

You told me about this other site - just wondering what it was. :)"

ME "uh... you ended our "date" with a one arm hug, and the next date you wanted to get together in a hot tub (which doesn't say interested says "you're good for sex"). Then you disappear. So I assume you're really not interested.

As for other sites, they're all lame."

I figured at this point there wasn't much he could come back with. I was all "Take that you ass."

Mr. H "If I wanted sex I would go out and look for a one night stand. But I'm not like that. I thought a hot tub sounded fun! Sorry to piss ya off :("

Damn... he has a point. Maybe he really is just dating etiquette stupid.

ME "ok. hot tubs might be fun, but not so early. I kinda liked you, but figured you weren't interested.. so was a little hurt that you asked for a dating site from me.

You were probably referring to "plentyoffish.com" but its really lame. Either that or Match.com"

Mr. H "if you say it sucks I won't bother. Maybe we could get together sometime next week. Going to Houston this weekend."

ME "Sure.. gimme a jingle or drop me a note when you get back. Have fun in Houston."

Mr. H "what number can I reach you at? I lost it :("

At this point, I'm pretty sure I was right that he's not interested. But I've gone this far, might as well see what comes to play next week.

ME: "Lost it? This is not boding well for you. :) (my phone number)"

So now I'm wondering a bit how many dates I've screwed up because I was too aloof or distant. How many of the men that I liked actually thought I was the uninterested party?

I hate self-doubt. So maybe from now on I'm just going to ask point blank, "Are you freaking interested or not?"

Sexual Healing

"If you don't know the things you're dealing

I can tell you, darling, that it's Sexual Healing" - Marvin Gaye

Saturday Night

After Friday night's fiasco, I really wasn't sure being social was a good idea. So when Getty called (she's the one that sat my dog) and wanted to do dinner, I hesitated. Then I thought about it, food is good and Getty can't possibly be as bad as Jessie. Plus keeping a dog-sitting friend happy is always a bonus. She hinted that after dinner we should hit a bar or two. A drink.. yes I needed a drink.

I really didn't have high expectations for the evening as Getty tends to get paranoid tirades, and doesn't really socialize at bars. So basically it'd be just her and I tossing back a few beers talking to each other. I figured worst case I'd have to listen to her rant while I drank a beer. I can do that.

So we both got gussied up, went for a steak dinner, and went to a bar. She drove so I figured I could drink more than I normally would. Yeah! But I stayed sober mostly. I'm not easy to get drunk nor is it usually cheap. The bar we started at was pretty dead except for a few genetic wonders obviously needing to be bred out of the gene pool. So after a couple beers, we left in search of something else. We don't live in bar central (downtown) so selection was slim. We decided to check out a karaoke bar.

On our way to the bar, she got on her phone and called a friend of hers. Who? I didn't know at the time. And invited said person to join us. After she hung up, she told me who it was. Some young guy she knew who hooked her up with pot.

Now my stance on drugs is pretty rigid. I don't like them, don't want to be around them, and don't want to be around people when they've done them. Getty and I have talked about this before, and she knows this about me. I know about her use of it, and supposedly she only smokes a little at night to get to sleep. What you do in your own house is your business.

So I was a little apprehensive about this meeting at the bar. Then she told me all about this guy. She met him when he was 19 and a huge druggie. They'd had a small fling thing. (she's about 50, he's 19. interesting, but I also read off-limits). He'd cleaned up his act and now only did pot (and I found out later smokes cigs as well). He was 21 now, got a job and has been responsible. He was tall, dark hair, blue eyes, and gorgeous .. she said.

In my head I was bitching at her. Sure sure.. You're going to introduce me to a male version of crack, and I can't even play with him? Bitch. I'm a huge sucker for tall dark haired men with blue eyes. It's not easy to find tall in Austin.

So we get to the karaoke bar, and its horrid. Some group of girls is murdering a song and a cat at the same time. We leave and go next door to the pool hall which has a small bar. She calls him and says to meet us there.

We sit down for a drink, but before we can order.

"Denny's HERE!"

I turn around to see some grizzly looking man enter and Getty hug him. He was totally not what I'd been picturing which was a good thing since he was off limits. He was tall I'll give her that, but gorgeous he was not. He was the right build that I like. Big enough without being too bulky. But he had a full - I do mean full - beard, and looked like he'd just gotten finished with a 6 month camping trip in the woods where there was no razors. His dark hair was hidden slightly under a cap, and had Getty not introduced us, I would have avoided him in any way possible.

We said "Hi" to each other, and sat at the bar. Getty on one side of me, and Denny on the other, with Getty and Denny conversing over top of me. It was strange, but at this point after last night, and the lack of eye candy, I just relaxed and said "Screw it". Gimme the liquor.

The bartender didn't have the liquor I wanted so I debated. He recommended something called "Firefly" sweet tea vodka. I thought yuck, but Denny and the bartender assured me that it was excellent and went down like lightly sweetened tea. (I hate sweet tea really) It also was supposed to be a "stool tipper" and would get me drunk fast. I wasn't driving so what the hell.

I drank one. It tasted somewhat sweet, kinda like tea, but pretty good. I felt nothing. I argued with the bartender that there wasn't any alcohol in it. He assured me it was a full shot of alcohol mentioning what "proof" it was as it that should convince me. All I knew was that I wasn't drunk like promised.

So I drank another. And another. And another. Still not getting anywhere. Getty, Denny, and the bartender looked at me like I was lying.

"Am I slurring?" I got up and walked, "Am I walking funny? Do I in any way resemble buzzing?"

They agreed I wasn't drunk and showed no signs. (When I tell you I can hold my alcohol, trust me.) However, Denny was looking cuter. Part of that I suppose was the alcohol, but part of it was that he was just really nice. Considerate. Sweet. Gentle. He didn't come off as threatening in any way. He even seemed to be flirting with me, which I wasn't entirely sure if he was just being friendly or ?

So with Getty's encouragement and reminding me that I wasn't driving home, I decided to see if I could get plastered. I switched to Tito's on the rocks and drank two like they were water. Finally a buzz!! But it was just a little buzz, but a buzz nonetheless.

The bar was closing, and Denny living nearby invited us over offering us beer. We decided to go. I figured I'd drink and get a buzz while she and Denny did whatever. She'd been hanging on him most of the evening, so I assumed she was wanting something other than a pot refill.

We get to his place look around. Its pretty clean for a bachelor pad. I was told later that it was his roommate's fault. So we take a seat on the couch. Getty on one arm, and me on the other. Denny grabs us a couple beers and sits in the middle.

At this point, Denny is not really being subtle with his flirting. He's definitely flirting with me, and I'm drunk enough that despite my best efforts I was flirting back. He was still Getty's ex, so I was freaking out majorly and about to ask Getty to drive me home.

Denny got up to get more beer. I was getting really drunk by this time. A cocktail at dinner, 2 beers, 4 Fireflys, 4 Tito's, and a beer. Evidently beer is my kryptonite. So I lean over to Getty and say:

"He's really hitting on me big time. I'm sorry. Are you ok with that?"

Getty laughed, "Yeah, thats Denny. He's a good guy. You should go for it."

"Naw you sure? I mean he's your ex.. I don't wanna step on toes. I'm not like that."

She laughed some more. "Him and I just barely had more than a one night stand. You're not stepping on anything. Seriously."

I still looked at her like she was from Mars. From Jessie the other night, to Getty tonight.. I was pretty sure I must be doing crack.

Denny returned shortly, tripped and spilled almost his entire beer all over me. When I gasped and bitched about being covered in beer, he apologized and said he'd clean me up.. and began to lick it off. IN FRONT OF GETTY.

Getty got up off the couch and moved to a nearby chair. I thought I was majorly in for it. I had tried to tell Denny to stop, but well it was a lot like telling a very cute cuddly dog to stop licking you. It wasn't really going to happen, and he meant no harm.

Denny then got up to use the restroom. Getty turned to me.

"Go ahead if you two want to have sex, no biggie. I'm fully entertained with the tv. Feel free to go back in his room."

Seriously looked at her like she'd grown 3 heads. WTF? I'd pretty much at this point decided that I was going to sleep with Denny. (I should probably mention that when I get drunk I also get friendly, horny as hell.) But as much as Getty was being all nice and encouraging, I just could not be so rude as to ditch her to go have sex with her friend. Principles baby.

"I'm sorry, but I just can't. Not while you're here. It wouldn't be right."

Denny came back and we snuggled a bit on the couch. His roommate came home then, and Getty and him began flirting. His roommate was much more type except for physically, he was clean cut, well dressed, metrosexual. I told Getty that, she told him. And we all flirted and joked around.

When the tv show was over, Getty got up and said she was leaving. Being thoroughly drunk it took me a bit to get off the couch. I got my purse, and went to follow her, but by the time I got across the room she'd already made Denny promise to drive me home. She asked me if I was ok with that, and of course I was.

I still was feeling a bit guilty about Getty, but I figured that could wait til morning. Denny then went into his bedroom and called for me to join him. His roomate was sitting on couch looking all adorable and abandoned.

"I'm sorry. If it was up to me, you could join in. But I gotta go." I cooed as I walked into Denny's bedroom. His roommate looked at me like he wanted to kill Denny and have me to himself. Its surprising how brazen I can get when drunk, and I honestly don't know what I'd have done if his roommate had joined in.

For having just met both of them, I really felt comfortable and safe. Partly I think because I know Getty and I know they know Getty. If they did hurt me, she'd be out for blood. She's an ex-biker chick. She's tough.

Denny was waiting for me. Impatiently patient in a sweet way like a puppy waiting to go for a walk. He was adorable, sweet, and yet had a backbone. One of those sweet teddybear kinda guys that you know will bend over backward to make you happy, but won't let you walk all over them. Trust me, he bent over backward.

It was a night of wild abandon which can only be adequately described as wild monkey sex. Since my divorce, I've been looking for a night like this. With 5 yrs of celibacy, I felt unsure, hesitant, unskilled, and just like a clown in the bedroom. I just wanted a night of anything goes to get back in the groove of it. Maybe learn a few new things.

I'm not sure I learned anything new, other than I still got it and that there are still a few men who know how to have sex, and at least one man that can go more than once in a night. I also learned that there is at least one man who is kind and gentle and polite during sex. If I said no to something, it was no. He didn't get huffy or discouraged, just tried to find a common ground for mutual pleasure. He asked before doing things, and asked if I liked certain things.

By a few hours into it, I was so relaxed with him that when he asked if I sucked cock, I didn't immediately brace up, but simply answered "no". He took it as if he'd asked if I wanted coke or diet pepsi, and I'd said coke. He didn't seem to care and moved onto something else. It was this that gave me confidence to try. I didn't try long, as I didn't want to risk me having an episode.. but I tried long enough to know that it wasn't horrid and that with the right person I might be able to do it. It was healing.

Actually the entire night was healing. He did nothing but make me feel wanted, and sexy, and like a queen. We entered his room at 3am, and finally forced ourselves to stop so he could get some sleep at 7am. We slept for a few hours, then he drove me home on his way to work.

I collapsed into my own bed. When I woke, I could barely move. Every muscle hurt, even muscles I didn't even remember using. Somehow I'd also managed to bruise my finger tips. I still don't know how I did that.

Getty called then and wanted to meet for a late lunch. After 'ditching' her the night before I couldn't very well say no.. so I went. I also wanted to make sure things were ok with her.

We met at Panera and had a good lunch. She smiled and asked about how things went, and said she felt a little guilty about last night. I was puzzled.

"I feel like I kinda pimped you out."

I laughed my ass off. If that's what pimping me out gets me, honey sign me up. I assured her it was fine. I just didn't tell her HOW fine it was, or that I felt like I owed her big for that setup. But what she doesn't know won't kill her. Besides if she feels a little guilty, she might be more willing to sit my dog again.. no?

Denny & I never exchanged numbers, and I doubt I'll ever see him again, but there's a place in my heart where he'll always be. Thanks Denny for everything.