Diary of a Nymphomaniac

Color me introspective.

My divorce has always, in my mind, been the jumping point for my discovery into my self.  Though, I can assume that some of the self I'm so happy with is the self that evolved during my marriage.  After cobbling my self-esteem back together and venturing out, hand shielding my eyes from the light of the real world, I have struggled with one specific piece of myself.

My sexuality.

For the past few years I have collected a seemingly large number of partners (always safely) whilst dodging mostly self fired shots at what that collection meant about me.  Having been raised LDS, one partner should've been enough for me, but it wasn't.  There's so much to try and so much to explore and from day one I wanted to do this, albeit on my terms.  Living in a conservative state, with conservative friends and a conservative upbringing I allowed myself to internalize the condemnation, verbalized or not, that was offered up to me in response to the cataloging of my experiences.  Particularly recently as I ventured into the world of "the other woman."  I've found myself justifying and rationalizing my desires and my adventures, to my friends and to myself, as though I had somehow to answer to the lot of us for what it was I'm doing.

I've had so many experiences now, some amazing, some horrid.  Some funny, some sad and some punishable by damnation at the very least.  But inside, while my face registered some guilt or shame for what I'd done, my soul was rejoicing in the experience.  I'd been cheated on in the past but now I've been the other woman and while the world is telling me I should feel guilty, my heart is telling me I shouldn't.  I acted willfully, knowingly and with the intent to dive into the experience head first and go where it takes me, let it teach me something that I can't otherwise have known.

There have been younger and older, wiser and weaker, gentle and forceful, caring and callous but every time there has been growth, expansion and acceptance.

But despite the passion in my soul for sex and my sexuality, I have allowed what I've been taught and what my peers, even my dearest friends, think and feel to color my response to my actions.  I've belittled my own desires based on what someone else tells me they should be.

And then, in a lonely hour on a lonely night in a lonely home filled with lonely thoughts, I settled into my couch and turned on a movie.

Diary of a Nymphomaniac.

In the final strains of a film that resonated in my heart, I heard my anthem.

"I'm a promiscuous woman, yes, because I want to use sex as a means to find what everyone is looking for.  Recognition, pleasure, self-esteem and, in short, love and affection.  What's pathological about that?  If you want to give me a name, go on, I don't mind.  But you must know I'm really a mermaid, a dryad, simply a nymph."

This is who I am.  A nymph, a mermaid.  Color me however you need, paint me in your limited palate but this,  this is who I am and I will no longer feel your guilt or your shame.  I am a siren and a seductress, a giver and a taker, a gift, a goddess, a potential home wrecker and a thief.

I am me and this is what I do and this brings me joy.  This chase for pleasure and love and affection and self-esteem, this is how I run it.

To quote one of my all-time favorite authors in my absolute favorite book -

"I will not go gently onto a shelf, degutted, to become a non-book.  All you umpires, back to the bleachers.  Referees, hit the showers.  It's my game.  I pitch, I hit, I catch.  I run the bases.  At sunset I've won or lost.  At sunrise, I'm out again, giving it the old try.  And no one can help me.  Not even you."

Look...About That...

I feel like Ebeneezer Scrooge being visited by the Ghosts of Ex-Boyfriends Past.  Over the last few weeks ex-boyfriends, ex love interests and all sorts of potential dates of different varieties have come crawling out of the virtual woodwork.  A text here, an awkward email there but seemingly all after one thing.

My vagina.

I've been down this road.  I have had my time with them, our relationships eclipsed for various reasons but the sun has set and I had very blissfully moved on.  But here they come, anyway, knocking on my figurative door with dying flowers and sugar-free chocolates in tow.  Here they come with offers of dates, random meet ups and potential sexual liaisons.

The amount of class displayed by these collective gentleman dissipates the entirety of my hope for humanity.

"What would you say if I got down on one knee and asked you to be my fuck buddy?"

To quote my favorite comedian...How romantic, Adolf.

Look, I get it,  we spent some time together, you enjoyed it.  Obviously not enough to keep it, but you at least enjoyed it a little, enough to assume you could crawl back into my bed.  So you're here again, just bored or needy enough to run down a list of girls you burned but still assume would take you back.

But you've misjudged me.  I might be single but I'm not needy, I'm not slutty, I don't have low self-esteem, I don't need to re-read chapters I passed long ago.  I don't want to reopen your chapter.  It sucked, I know it did, or maybe I would've tried harder to linger on it.  You might be dying for something wet to warm your dick but it's NOT going to be me.

I'm not interested in the bullshit you're selling, I don't need a fuck buddy, especially not one that looks like you when I've reached Ego Boost levels.  This isn't a Hollywood romantic comedy where I play the ditsy blonde that confuses sex for love.  I know you, I've figured you out.  I know what it is your after and while I'm very interested in the idea of a sex buddy, I can do much better.  It's cute that you think I'm that stupid, though.

Romance. Sticky, Sticky Romance.

I have long pondered over my singlehood-dom-ness and tried to analyze what it was that men wanted, what I was supposed to be in order to snag a man to marry.

Thanks to a man...whose name I have forgotten...that I had the great fortune to go on a first date with and then be summarily ignored for several months only to be accidentally rediscovered has FINALLY, after long last clued me in.

His succinct, unedited, uncensored statement on marriage is as follows:

"So lets fuck for three days straight.  Perfect!  You do know I'm kinky, right?  I mean I really like you, but I like a lot of things a lot of girls aren't comfortable with, but at the same time I'm looking to settle down."

Now I know.  First date attire will now be limited to nipple clamps and a strap-on.  Apparently, that's how you get the boys to put a ring on it.

And by it...I mean my finger...not the strap on.

Besides Which You See, I Have Confidence In Me!

Confidence is such a fickle beast.  One moment your gunning for a promotion with more than your share of confidence and the next you're in the bathroom crying because your hair looks just a little funny today.  I've had a roughly 24 year battle with confidence and self-esteem.

Just when I thought I'd done it, accomplished it, tamed the wild horse of valuing myself I got married.  To an asshole.  An asshole who took it upon himself to make sure he knew that my naturally curly hair was ugly, I'd look fatter in horizontal stripes than I did normally, my legs were too fat, my boobs were too little, I should lose weight, I didn't dress right, I talked too loud in public and just generally that I sucked.  All my hard work, torn up and thrown into a puddle of rancid rain water.  I tried to pick up the pieces, wiping them off on my jeans but realized it was futile.  I had to start over.

On the night I told my former husband that it was over, I laid the first brick.  I put down the very beginning of my foundation and I kept building.  Slowly at times, faster at others.  I remember that I'm very, very smart.  I realized just how charming I am.  I reevaluated and redeveloped my entire self-worth and, by god, I am worth twice my weight in AMAZING.

One thing that always nagged, though...I know I'm pretty, everyone is pretty but I'd never felt like I could get "that guy."  You know which one I mean.  The successful, smart, handsome and looks like he just walked off the set of '300' guy.  The one that seems like he has it all, whether or not he actually does is of less importance.  This is the one that you want simply because he exists.  In the end it wouldn't matter if he had the intelligence of a 2 year old, as long as he keeps his shirt off.

Selfish?  Yup.  Ego driven?  Yessir.  Classy?  Oh get off your high horse!  This one is all about appearances and I am A-Ok with that!  Is he a guy that needs his ego stroked frequently?  Probably.  Am I willing to stroke it?  God am I ever!

There has existed a man on one of my dating sites.  A gorgeous man, a man with a body like a god.  Pretty sure he's Adonis' twin brother.  By all rights, he definitely has more than just the body, much more.  I've long oggled his thumbnail sized photo, never quite daring to click on it so that he'd see I had visited his profile and scoff at what such an ugly duckling was doing there.  Once or twice I'd looked at it, drooled over his pictures and wondered what kind of woman he'd take, how leggy, skinny, big-breasted and blonde you'd have to be to land a guy like that.  I didn't at all think I'd make the cut, not even close.  I'm a bit doughy about the mid-section and am definitely no super model.

Would I want to fall in love with him?  Probably not, despite our high match percentage I'm quite positive we'd have little in common to build an actual relationship on.  But did that deter me from wondering what he'd be like in bed?  Pfft...nope!  He's hot, there's absolutely NO denying that.  He's gorgeous and I'm positive he knows it.  But really...what could it hurt to dip my toe into the water and see if he bites?

So without even a second thought, I opened up a message to him.  In very short order, no hesitation, no fear, no intimidation I penned a quick note and very pointedly told him that I wasn't really sure we'd be any good at a relationship but I was intensely curious about what kind of women he finds on the site and what he'd be like as a lover.  I fully expected a polite brush off at best and complete silence at worst but what did it hurt?

Then to my curious shock, only a few minutes later I had a reply.  He was hooked by my confidence, my boldness.  This started a fast paced exchange of conversation.  We were both neither shy nor afraid to make it perfectly clear that we had no real intention of dating in the romantic sense and that this was in fact a veiled negotiation to just sleep with each other.  I was clear, he was clear.  No pretense of interest in what he does or what I do, no concern over interests or hobbies.  I wanted him, in the most animalistic of senses and to my utter surprise he wanted me too.

Then I had it, he sent another response with his phone number and a request that I text him.  So I did and we continued texting.  To quote one of my favorite movies; "I got a number.  I got a NUMBER.  I GOT A NUMBER!"  I was elated and just a little bit stunned.

I'll be honest in saying that there was an exchange of a few photographs, nothing outright lewd but definitely something that would've gotten Weiner in trouble.  Then it happened, he started to compliment me, he started to tell me how much he liked what he saw, he was attracted to me.  To me!

A man, whom I would never ever have thought would go for an average girl like me was suddenly very muscular putty in my hands.  My confidence was written in stone.  I had reached what was, in my opinion, the Mt. Everest of men.  Someone who undoubtedly is viewed as an object by women of all shapes and sizes.  I had him, I had his attention and I had his interest.

Do I think I can believe everything he says?  No.  Do I think a guy will say damn near anything to have sex?  Yup.  Do I believe that guys have to be at least sorta attracted to get it up?  Yes.  Do I think he's a chubby chaser?  Possibly.  Do I think that this is anything more than just sex?  Nope and that's just how I want it.  This is not a love match, am I completely closed off to the idea that he might surprise me again?  No.  This is a huge ego boost for me, if it becomes anything else, so be it.  If it stays just sex, in fact if we only ever meet once, I'm happy.  I accomplished something.  I learned something about myself and about men.

I may just be prettier than I thought, the supermodel type may not be that desirable in the end, I need to lose the judgements, going with my gut instinct pays off and confidence really is key.  So please...for me, the next time you're too intimidated to do something like ask a man like this out

A special thank you to Mario Lopez for standing in for the man I am talking to.

just do it, just go for it!  It really can't hurt.  Even if they blow you off, that's just one guy with a bad attitude or an ego that you wouldn't want to be around anyways.  So just go, do, believe in yourself.  Take some bold actions and baby, they're bound to pay off!

I Want My Happy Ending.

I've come so far.  On my own.  I've survived abuse, a shitty  marriage, life on my own, paying my own bills, making my life what it is.  My life is great.  I have a great career with amazing coworkers, I'm getting a degree to open up my dream job.  I have a beautiful, quirky, charming and amazing son.  I have great, supportive friends and family.  I'm 25 and I've achieved so much and so much of it I've achieved alone, against great odds and through great challenge.  But here I am.

But there's a huge piece missing.  You.  Wherever you are.  I've spent a couple years (and time before the span of my marriage) looking for you and you still elude me.  I've hoisted my flag and sent out my courtiers in search of you and each time they return empty handed or with someone attempting to be you.  Why is it, the one thing I want so desperately, the one thing I'm missing and aching for is the one thing that seems to sneak through my open arms?

I have a collection of lessons I've learned over the last several years and not a single one of the lessons is good.  What I've learned so far:

1. Guys lie.  A lot.  They're masters of knowing exactly what girls want to hear them say but not a word of it is genuine.
2. I'm gullible, I'll believe anything a guy tells me as long as it's complimentary.
3. It doesn't matter one single bit that I'm successful/smart/talented/well-rounded/fun/kind/generous/a good mother/caring/compassionate/PERFECT because sex is the ultimate motivator and as a woman in full control and awareness of her sexuality I give men exactly what they want all the while thinking that I'm in control.
4. Success = intimidation.  Talking about my goals and achievements is not attractive.
5. The fact that I'm not a typical girl is a handicap, not a benefit.
6. Guys who claim to love kids do not love kids, they just love the idea of kids.
7. No matter how hard I try to be unattached or aloof to falling for the dirty tricks, they still get me.
8. I can sure put on a brave face but inside my heart is shattered.
9. My most successful relationships will be with the most unstable men.
10. When a man tells me he doesn't want to get married it means he just doesn't want to marry me.
11. Abundance of money and lack of money are the same, assholes are assholes no matter what their income.
12. Women have turned men into what they are.  We've created a master race of lazy, entitled, weak assholes.
13. I shouldn't have to change a thing about how I behave in a relationship, unless a guy gives me what I want and need he should be ruled out.  I shouldn't have to demand they treat me like more than a whore.
14. Romance is dead.
15. Dates = sex.  Sex = my only valuable feature.
16. I am not worthy of a true relationship, I lack something that creates life-long love.  What it is, I don't know.  Until I know, I will not succeed.
17. The good men are taken.
18. Other girls get their Prince Charming but just like they can't expect my lifestyle, I cannot expect their success in love.  I will not get my Prince Charming.
19. Prince Charming is a lie.  I'm not Cinderella, Snow White or Sleeping Beauty.  I'm just some girl with too much attitude, too much independence and way too much opinion.
20. Sex is a commodity and I'm on the trading floor shouting at the top of my lungs with a rabid bunch of men throwing up their hands and fingers, flashing offers that I'm not willing to settle for.
21. Happily Ever After isn't a part of my life plan.  I'm here for something else.
22. I'm an incredibly slow learner because I've been kicked to my knees more times than I can count and for some idiotic reason I keep getting up.

By the time you actually show up I'll be so bruised and bloodied that you won't be able to see through the damage and you'll wander away.  I'm done letting myself get hurt.  I'm done offering up my wrist to be slashed.  I'm tired and sore and beaten.  They win.  I've been destroyed.  Thank your fellow man for this one because they've trampled all over me.  They've made me the weaker sex and I hate you for it.

Don't get me wrong, though.  Like a moron I will still stand up again, I will brush the dirt and rocks off my knees, I will stand in the shower for hours, until I shiver and turn blue from the cold, just to wash the taste of them out of my mouth, the smell of their skin off of mine.  I'm building my brick wall and now I don't care if you take it down.

So if you show up, I'll apologize eventually for slapping you.  I imagine if you exist you'll be just as broken as I am.  I'll probably push you away, cringe at your touch, accuse you of lying and ignore your attempts at romance.

Look at me.  Who am I kidding.  You're as much a reality as that unicorn I keep hoping will wander into my backyard.

This Week In Awkward Dating Profiles!

• Probably the most important thing to be up front about is that I am dirty and I like being that way. I like the smell of human bodies (mine and yours) and that's not something I'm shy about. For some people (see most people) this is a bit of a deal breaker for even being in the same room as me, much less some sort of intimate relationship. jsyk. 

• The first thing people notice about me is...
  OMG hes a gangata!!!! or playa!!!!
  
  Neither are true but cool stero types i guess...
   
• Yea yea I know I am naked LOL !!! But keep in mind vanity and intellectuality are not mutually exclusive ....

• And this....

What I Hate About You...And Your Dating Profile - Part 2

1. Any photographs that you have taken of scenery, your car or anything else that isn't you.
2. Photographs that feature your extended family.  I really just want to see you, not your parents/siblings/nieces/nephews/etc.
3. Any mention of being "drama free" or that you "hate drama."  Nothing screams I have issues that end up being dramatic like someone who feels the need to point out drama.
4. Guys without shirts who aren't ripped.  There's nothing wrong with a guy who isn't totally buff but I really don't need to see a shot of your doughy midsection.  Leave the shirtless pics to guys with bigger egos and better abs.
5. Anyone who is just "looking for friends."  This is a dating site, not a social club.  Married men, men in relationships and men who aren't interested in dating are very clearly saying to the world that they're looking for sex.
6. Pictures that are older than a year.  I don't want to see what you looked like 5 years ago when you were in great shape.  I want to know what you look like now.
7. Any reference to judging you based on more than photos.  "Thanks for getting this far and not just looking at my pics" or "Wow! You're actually reading this instead of just browsing my photos?"  In the real world we base people on their looks so what makes you think online dating is any different.  If there's no physical attraction we're probably not going to care what you're into online or offline.
8. Reminding us all that you're "just checking things out" online.  No shit Sherlock!  Pretty sure that's what we're all doing.  But no, thanks for stating the obvious.
9. Pointing out how non-Mormon you are...or pointing out how Mormon you are.  There's a details section that allows you to state religious preference on most dating sites, keep the religion talk to that area or to private conversations if it's that big of a deal breaker and if it's that big of a deal breaker Mormons should join LDS dating sites and Non-Mormons should join non-LDS dating sites.
10. Pictures of your tattoos.  Great!  You have tattoos!  Why don't we just throw up a picture of your cock and your paycheck while we're at it so I don't have to bother seeing it all in real life if I'm not immediately interested.
11. Any pictures of you dressed as Jack Sparrow.  If you can't think of a better Halloween costume then really...you probably shouldn't draw attention to that at all.
12. And for the special gent who emailed me...Your picture of you wearing a shirt that reads "Legalize Murder" ...ya...not hot.

What I Hate About You...And Your Dating Profile.

I have more than fully re-entered the dating scene online and have once again been reminded of all my pet peeves when it comes to guys' filling out their dating profiles.  Below is my list of No-Nos...at least they're not going to get you a date with me.

1) Guys who don't fill out their profiles at all!  Why come to a dating site, sign up and leave the profile active with nothing more than a few far too staged photos for us to judge you on.

2) Any complaint about how much you "hate filling these things out."  If you don't like it, don't do it!  I don't need to read about how shitty it is to have to think of a few intelligent paragraphs to describe yourself.  If you can't sell me on the idea of you, who will?

3) EVERYONE likes to travel.  I have yet to find a single person who wouldn't say they enjoyed traveling.  We get it.  I might puke if I see one more profile that says that.  If traveling really is a passion for you, show it in photos or talk about the actual places you like to travel.  Nothing is more cliche than "I like to travel."

4) Sex listed anywhere on a profile.  You're a guy, we get it.  Girls are told basically from day one that guys have sex on the brain near constantly.  We don't need to read about it in your dating profile.  Nothing turns me off faster than a guy who lists Sex as something he can't live without.  Sex is great but it doesn't belong in your dating profile.  If that's what you want, put an ad on Craigslist.

5) Pictures of the following varieties

• Flipping the camera off.  We get it, you're a douche.
• You kissing or being kissed by scantily clad women.  If it's not your mom or daughter I don't want to see some woman kissing you.
• Pictures in which you are either not visible at all or are so far in the distance that it renders the picture pointless in illustrating your appearance, especially if this is your only photo.
• Pictures that have been digitally manipulated.  I don't need to see how artistic you are or how much you like the insta-Lomo feature in your photo editing software.  I just want to see you.
• No pictures at all.  I understand if you got interrupted while creating your profile but if you remain pictureless it only suggests to me that you have something to hide or are insecure with your appearance, neither of which is attractive to me.  Unfortunately we are all visual people, deal with it.

6) Comparing a dating profile to a resume.  That's the point!  You're trying to sell yourself as a suitable date/boyfriend/girlfriend/partner/husband/wife.  It's cute that you can use the same cliche as everyone else but don't waste the space on that when you could be telling me about your awesome 1st edition book collection. 

Try a little harder, make some effort.  If you can't even put for the effort to make a well-rounded, honest and fully filled out dating profile then what on earth will make me think you'll put any effort into a date or relationship?

Stumbling Down Memory Lane.

Being temporarily (I hope) deaf has given me a lot of time for inner reflection (herp, I know...it's super drippy with hokey-ness).  I was digging through a bookshelf, trying to find a picture book with some of my Spawn's infant photos and couldn't find it, so I moved to the Hope chest in hope (ha! get it?!) that I'd find the book there.  I dug away and was unable to turn up the book but noticed a folder that I couldn't remember.  I opened it and found a couple pictures from college, some things from my old dorm room and a few pictures and a piece of hand crafted tandem artwork from my high school crush.  The pictures were from his mission and the artwork we had created one boring day in seminary during my sophomore year.

I smiled and tucked them back away.  I had the great fortune to date this young man, long distance though it was, about a year ago.  Needless to say it ended and I have been very sorrowful about how it ended because the blame laid entirely with me.  But this little trip down memory lane had triggered in me a moment of reflection that I had been avoiding this entire year.

I had crushed on him from the day I saw him in 10th grade.  He was a senior, oh so exotic!  He took me to a 311 concert, he wrote me on his mission and then we lost contact.  I got married and he joined the army.  I had a kid and he was...still in the army.  Then one day, after self-confessed obsessive searching, I found him on Facebook.  I sent a friend request and an awkwardly worded email about how I hoped he remembered me.  Well he did and thus began our renewed communication.  Communication matured to flirting and flirting matured to honesty and my frank admission that I had fostered a high school crush on him that just never seemed to go away.  Here began our long distance relationship.

The relationship was great and completely without trouble/drama/blah or whatever you chose to call it.  Maybe that was because of the distance and maybe just because he's fantastic.  Unfortunately for me, my body was in full revolt and during this time it was quickly shutting me down.  I have since been diagnosed with two separate but very not so awesome illnesses that can be blamed for this decline in health.

But here is my blunder.  Instead of leaning on him, instead of asking for help or celebrating the fact that someone was there to worry for me and care for me, I just shut down.  I knew full well he was in love with me and I knew full well I was in love with him but I let my stupid body dictate my willingness to exist.  I closed up my heart.  I can only imagine the hurt and frustration that I caused him and I will always be sorry for that.  I was so wrapped up in my own stupid suffering that I neglected one of the best things that I have ever been given.  I let my health and some less than pleasant tasks at work get in the way of what could've been my relationship with "the one."  I sacrificed love like I have never known so I could suffer alone.  Not only did he deserve a girlfriend who he could actually see whenever he wanted, he also deserved a healthy girlfriend and probably one that didn't already have a kid.  He deserved and deserves better than me.

That said and after conveniently pointing the finger at being sick when in reality I'm just a big fat asshole, I am so lucky because he still talks to me.  For whatever reason he didn't let my absolute horrid treatment of him destroy our friendship.  We still talk and text and flirt and joke and tease and somewhere in my head I entertain ideas that maybe he still thinks about me in a loving way and that maybe, just maybe he misses me.  But then I kick that part of me in the butt because I find it incredibly selfish of myself to think that after what I did he'd ever consider me with any fondness.

But deep down...deep deep down...I think I miss him.

I Must Not Fear....

For the longest time I have been afraid.  Since before I should've been old to enough to fear such silly things.  I have been terrified of loneliness, frightful of singularity, afraid of solitude.  From the time I turned 16 until early this year, I have never had to be alone.  From the moment I was "datable" as far as Mormon's are concerned, all through my divorce and up until recently I have had a boyfriend or the makings of one.  I have never once cheated but even after the most painful of breakups I wasn't left on the shelf too long before a suitable replacement appeared (if he hadn't been standing there waiting as it was).  I think, prior to this dry spell, the longest I ever went without a boyfriend was approximately a month, give or take a few days.

Undoubtedly this isn't exactly natural and has led to much of my fear and trepidation at being alone. I think I have finally conquered that fear, though.  I am no longer worried about when Mr. Right will finally show up, nor am I concerned with why I haven't got a date Friday night.  I don't mind that I am sharing good news with close friends instead of my significant other and I really don't mind not having to get the dishes done before my man comes over to see me. 

I never ever anticipated I would be 25, single and with a child but hell, I didn't anticipate much of anything that I'm currently doing so why hang my hat on just my marital predictions.  So now I will focus on me and my son.  Now I will worry about my two bachelor's degrees, my fantastic career, my growing child, my fabulous family and supportive friends.  I will focus on the things that I want out of this life, excepting a marriage.  If in time someone of suitable mental, physical and emotional stature comes along then awesome, I'll be all the better for him.  Should that not be a part of my path for this lifetime, so be it again.  I will not be defined by my companionship but by my own nature, by the mark I, alone, am making on my world.  No longer will I grimace at wedding photos online or let my heart sink when I hear someone is getting married or the cute idea that so-and-so is using at her reception.  I will not sulk over my "misfortune" or pine over relationships lost. 

If I spend my life searching for the perfect relationship I fear I will never find it.  I will stop being the lady in waiting, the patient handmaiden balanced on bated breath for her handsome Prince to come.  I no longer want to live my life in anticipation, or desperation, of someone to live it with.  I want to live it alone.  I want to make my own choices and do my own thing without worrying about telling the boyfriend or inviting the boyfriend or any of those things.  I finally get to do my own thing and I have been avoiding it, I have been skirting it when I should've been embracing it.

It is so frightening to be alone after having spent nearly a decade as a couple, as one half of a larger combined being and I am sure that I had, at least partially, forgotten how to exist as a single individual in a community so heavily dominated by a culture that applauds marriage and long term relationships.  This new found self-reliance has been hard to adjust to but I think I'm finally there.

I must not fear.  Fear is the mind-killer.  Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.  I will face my fear.  I will permit it to pass over me and through me.  And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.  Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.  Only I will remain.

I could pack up and move to a new country tomorrow if I so desired!  Not...that that will...ever happen, but I could!  With no one to report to or worry about or concern myself over, just me and the Spawn, we could pick up and leave and no one would be the wiser.  I can do anything I want, go wherever I want, whenever I want and with whomever I choose!  I have a freedom that I haven't had in, well really in my entire life.  I am a single adult with only myself and my child to answer to and for.

And sugar?  I LOVE it.

That's When I Realize...

I thought I'd take a chance, throw some money at my dating issues and pray that I could find some serious candidates.  I thought it'd work.  So far we're looking at 0 for 3 with no real chance of that statistic improving anytime soon.

Bachelor #1 - The Show

Good job, mature age (ok c'mon...for me that's like anything over 33), nice car, owns home.  You get the picture.  But he showed his card early when he started talking about sex.  It was clear that was his primary goal and we all know how I feel about that.  Luckily not much time was wasted there and no effort on my part.

Bachelor #2 - The CTO

Again good job, mature age, nice car, owns home.  Interest in physical activity and genuine interests.  Made jokes about getting married on our second day communicating (I'm going to write that one down as a bad sign from now on).  Set up a date night and went to see him.  He seemed genuine and interested, mature and stable, he didn't press me for sex or anything!  I was enamoured and surprised.  But then he stopped texting, stopped communicating all together.  I got him to ping back twice and then he fell off the face of the earth.  I hope he has a pleasant trip.

Bachelor #3 - Le Artiste

This was the wild card.  I can't say I was genuinely interested in this guy.  He had lackluster photos of himself on his profile and I didn't see much that piqued me besides his artist side and that he was a parent.  I had not yet had experience dating another single parent but I thought, what the hell, I may as well give it a go.  We communicated non-stop but the progression was slow and cautious, which I must say I am not used to.  In all my online dating experience it generally holds that the guy will at least try to ask me out within the first few days of talking.  Le Artiste didn't try that until about week 2.5 of talking (if you include eHarmony communications in that time...which I do.).  We had very stimulating conversation and he called me on the phone nightly.  This should've been a red flag for me.  I can handle a good chat but frankly, I got shit to do!  I needed to work out, study, finish homework, etc and he was impinging on that time but I let him cause I'm weak willed I suppose.

We finally set up a chance to meet and he made the trek to Payson.  We spent the afternoon playing at a playground with the Spawnling (only mine, not his), watched a movie and then whatever the kids are calling it nowadays.  Then he made Fatal Error # >1.  He assumed he was allowed to sleep over.  It was not yet even 11pm.  More than enough time to get home safely.  Again, me being weak willed in the face of anything I dislike mixed with someone I'm trying to like, I allowed it.  Sleep occurred and he took his time leaving in the morning.

Already less than pleased but I thought, in an effort to really try and be...not picky, that I'd still give it a go.  But then I realize something...75% of our conversation involved his baby mama.  He brought her up at least once in every conversation, if not more...Red Flag!  Huge red flag!  The only other person I know to talk about his ex that much ended up cheating on me, with said ex.  An additional red flag was thrown on the play when he became uncomfortable after I made a racy joke in an IM conversation one night.  That was the last straw for me, clearly if he couldn't handle me joking about that, online, in the PM, between two adults he wouldn't be able to handle it any other time and unfortunately for him that's just a part of who I am.

Then I got sick, very very sick and really wasn't concerned with  making an effort to let him know and it turns out, he showed how interested he was because I only got a few IMs from him asking where I was and what he'd done (I leave my computer on 24/7, there is no guarantee that if my IM is on that I'm anywhere near the computer).  No phone call, no text message, no email.  Just a few scattered IMs.  If he were genuinely worried I imagine he'd make a greater effort to track me down.

So I clap my hands, show the backs and my palms and leave the table.

I realize now that not only am I not heartbroken but I'm not sure the heart is there to be broken.  I have a big steaming pile of I don't give a shit in my lap and I'm absent mindedly sculpting it into the shape of a mountain.

I am so tired of chasing Love down.  It's hard to run in high heels.  Before this trio of turds came into my life I still knew that with as bitter as I was I still cared, at least a little, about finding love.  Post-trio I find that that lingering desire is snuffed out.  I haven't a fuck to give and I don't care to go finding more fuck.

So Love, if you're reading this, you know where I live and you know what I want.  I'll see you if I see you.

And if I don't?  C'est la vie, la vie celibataire.

Excuse Me?

I've known you for less than 12 hours.  That's less than a full day.  I had high hopes and was willing to lower my "standards" as far as what I normally look for.  I was willing to ignore my usual type to give you a chance thinking that maybe I was closing myself off to something.  Maybe, just maybe, the fact that you weren't what I'd normally go for might in some way safe guard my heart.

I was wrong.  Dead wrong.  I'm not sure if I've overestimated my looks or if maybe you're just brave.  Did you really think you'd get away with that?  With me?  Come on.  Even by your own estimation I am WAY out of your league...and yet, after only a mere half a day you think you can ask me to send you nude photos?

Don't justify the behavior.  I don't care if you're in "a mood" or if you're horny or if you're just an asshole.  How often do you succeed?  How often do you snag girls from the interweb and talk them into baring all only hours after e-meeting you?

Don't apologize for offending me or tell me that you "mean no disrespect."  Don't tell me not to call them tits.  They're mine and I call them what I want.  Don't petition me for amateur porn and then correct my terminology.  Did you choke when you followed the classy "How daring are you?" with "But trust me, I don't want you to think I'm one of those guys.  I really respect you."

Don't pretend you really enjoy my conversation and think I'm so intellectual and charming while you sit at your computer desk, undoubtedly running your meaty palm over the crotch of your jeans, asking me if I have a webcam.

When one of my exboyfriends called me Sex On Legs, I thought it was a compliment but I'm suddenly realizing that perhaps it was actually a title or a job description.  I'm learning my lesson, you assholes are putting me in my place.  I'll just shut my mouth and spread my legs because that's all I'm good for and in the end that's all you really want.  I don't care that guys are "naturally more horny" or guys are just "less tactful" or that they "are just more visually and sexually driven."  That's not an excuse for thinking you can treat me like your Cyberskin Lifelike Sex Doll.

I like sex, too.  Why can't I get away with just using men?  Why am I held to a different standard?  Why on earth do I want an actual relationship?  Is it so much to ask for a guy who actually enjoys my company as well as just enjoying my body?  It's nice to be worshiped but I'd also like to be conversed with or taken out or, god forbid, committed to.  Clearly I'm not marriage material, I'm just a fantastic lay.  Experience holds that once my newness wears off you'll go looking for the next toy and if you've finally worn out your interest in sex dolls its the next girl that gets the prize.

If you want sex, just say so.  Stop pretending you want a relationship.  If you want porn, just say so.  I know how to use Google and frankly you have no clue whether Jenna Jameson's boobs are mine or not.  Please just be honest with me.  I may be in need of a good one night stand.  I'd be far more likely to take you up on it if you could just call it like it is.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go shower and oil up my skin for my next photoshoot.  These tits are all I'm good for so I gotta make them shine.