Too Drunk To Fuck

Have you ever gone out with your friends, and determined to get laid, but so drunk that you can no longer remember why anymore, looked over to one of them and said "is he/ she good looking"?

His Pillow When He Leaves Me...

...smells soooo good.

An Epiphany

I realized the other night that a woman's strength does not always come from her sexual prowess, some times it comes from her ability to be vulnerable at the right times, which is so much harder.

Wine me, dine me, but do not 69 me...

Let's talk about sexual trends some more.  The 69.  I would like to know if people are still doing this.  I hear guys talk about it, but, are they actually doing it?

For the past almost twenty years (ouch) I have seen sexual positions come (no pun intended) and go, and yet this position still seems very "eighties" to me.  Maybe I just have attention deficit disorder, but if a guy pulls this out of his sexual repitoire, I start having flashbacks of Whitesnake and spandex.  Is it just me? 

The Scent Of A Man

The more I learn about my own gender, the more I realize what mysterious and strange, yet beautifully particular creatures we women are. Dr. Rachel Herz has recently confirmed everything that I've ever said about the importance of a man's scent to a woman, in her article 'The Scent of Sex' http://www.psychologytoday.com/print/3256 . She explains how a man's immune system must be the opposite of ours, for us to be able to fend of "nasty recessive diseases", and to want to breed with him.

According to Dr. Herz, "women actually find how a man smells to be the most important factor in their sexual attraction". That's trumping power and money! Which explains why I've observed that, in the course of a conversation between me and my girlfriends, if one of us talks about a guy and doesn't say "oh my God, he smells soo good", I know that he's not going to be a real keeper. So basically, if a man's immune system doesn't jive with ours, then we will not be attracted to his individual scent. My translation to this would be, if you don't want to bottle his natural scent, then you'll be kicking him out of your bed sooner than later.



As I read this article by Dr. Herz, I was amazed and validated to find out the true biological importance of this part of sexual attraction for women. "In two large studies we conducted to examine how important various physical and social status factors were for men and women when choosing a sexual partner, we discovered that above all other physical characteristics, women ranked a man's scent as the most important feature for determining whether she would be sexually interested in him. How a man smelled was also much more important than any social status factor. And of all physical characteristics women preferred a man to the "better than average" in his body odor than anything else. Women also found men who smelled great due to the fragrance they wore irresistible. In the words of one respondent: "If I'm with a guy who smells really good, nothing else about him seems to matter."



Additionally, if a guys natural scent is wonderful, then when we go out, and he puts a nice cologne over that wonderful, natural scent, it's just that much hotter. And if we are grabbing your pillow to hold and smell after you're gone... it might just be love.

Regret

It seems for me to live this life to the fullest, I have had to make plenty of mistakes and always learn the hard way.  Sometimes, the same lesson, over and over... and then over again.  For men, I have cried, compromised, given, taken, lied, lost goodness and innocence and my mind.  I've hated, loved, and parts of me have completely died.  I've made mistakes that have ripped me apart inside, and that have isolated, betrayed and dissapointed people that I loved, or have just been cruel to people that I liked.  My only consolation has been that I have been punished three-fold for all of it.
Someone told me recently that I seem to be living life with no regrets, and I thought of an old movie called The Last Unicorn, that I used to watch when I was a girl.  A wizard turns the last unicorn into a beautiful young woman to protect her from being hunted, and in this shell of a female body she must face the evils of the world.  At the end she says "I am no longer like the others, for no unicorn was ever born who could regret, but now I do. I regret.".

Thigh High Season

Time to add more shit to our excercise routine again ladies, it's thigh high season! Fall can be especially challenging for us girls. The weather is cooler, it's football season, there's fattening, heavy food everywhere, and yet... we have to get into our thigh highs for Halloween costumes, since Halloween is now the Night Of Wearing Your Fancy Underwear In Public. I swear, I went to a Hugh Hefner Playboy themed party a few years ago, and had more clothes on than what I'm seeing for costumes now. It's easier to wear a bikini, than to strap a tight band around each of your thighs, which might actually create fat where there was none before, strangling each thigh to the point of looking like a piglet trying to escape from a nylon sausage casing. Anyway, here we go, it's fun... even if my ass is hanging out.

Girlfriends & Guys

Sometimes the simple wisdom that I get from my girlfriends is so profound that it makes me laugh and feel sorry for those that don't have this wonderful gift in their lives.  And by "those", I mean men.  Most men do not confide, divulge or dialogue with each other.  Most men's friendships are unspoken bonds of experiences together, rather than honest talking and listening to each other.
My girlfriends and I know about each others pain, joy, families, broken hearts, moments of bliss, happiness, sadness, and inquire about each other's well being just about every day.  A lot of times I joke about being a guy, however, in this aspect of my life, I'm so happy and proud to be a woman.
And of course, when something happens with a guy in our lives, each of us knows about it.  If I ever even contemplate getting serious with a guy, he knows that it's a package deal.  He has to win over my girlfriends first and foremost to really be in 'the club', and not just a passing novelty.
Today, in particular, I confided to my best friend about a guy that has been in and out of my life for a couple of years now, and cannot deal with his emotions in any sort of heathly manner whatsoever.  Somewhere in the time line of his life, he learned that having strong emotions is weak.  I feel sad for him, yet cannot help him in this journey of emotional growth/ maturity that he must go through.  When he recently contacted me to finally tell me something about his feelings, after a year of silence, I felt rather tender towards him, and wanted to help him through his feelings because I've always cared for him.  Then my girlfriend said "Oh Jesus Kelly, I want off of this ride and I want my money back!  He wasn't there for you in your time of emotional need, why should you be there for his?!"  And she is so very right!  As women, our first instinct is to comfort those that we care about, but, for example, as most parents know, this is not always the right thing to do.   It is one of the most difficult challenges that we, as women face, to allow someone we care about, to hurt, and leave them alone.  However, over and over again, I see men do it, so easily, it seems. 
I think that all of our brains are like houses.  Each emotion has a room, and men seem to just be able to walk out of the room and shut the door.  As women, we find ourselves trapped in the room, with the door locked from the outside, not able to get out, until everything in the room is in order first.  In other words, dealing with our emotions first, then going on about our lives secondly, but with new found wisdom of what we have dealt with.  And sometimes, right when we find ourselves able to walk out of that room and leave it behind, a man will just then be reopening the same door, to the same room, in his own house.   

Oktoberfest Is For Lovers

Well, here it is again.  Ah, Oktoberfest.  The weather will break, beer will flow like a river, the girls will serve it and look pretty with their Dirndl's on, tradition will continue and all will be right with the world for a few moments. 

Sons Of Anarchy

Oh Lord and baby Jesus, help me. I can hardly type for the panting. This is bad. I haven't had a Hollywood crush like this since Bo Duke. No, scratch that; since John Sykes from Whitesnake. Anyway, enter the second season of Sons Of Anarchy, and Charlie Hunnam (insert echoing here), my latest obsession. Holy God, after seeing the episode where he comes out of the shower, this man quite possibly has it all, and on top of it, in real life, he's British.

Bad Ass Girls

James Allen said "People do not attract that which they want, but that which they are". 

I give up.  I love bad boys.  Relapse mode: engaged.

A Girl's Bed Is Her Best Friend

I hereby declare that the days of letting a man that you have "slept" with, actually sleep with you, are over. That is, of course, unless you really like him and want to see him again. Otherwise, he's gotta go! I hear it from my girlfriends time and time again. Oh, I didn't get any sleep last night because I finally had sex with so and so. Why? Because unlike most men, we cannot sleep soundly with a man in our bed that we don't want to cook breakfast for. (Passing out doesn't count). But women and men alike, feel obligated to let someone sleep in our beds. Where is this obligation coming from? Is it just a social standard that we have come to accept and no longer question? Why is it so hard for us to nicely and respectfully say to each other, "okay, I'll talk to you soon, goodbye". The other side of the coin here is the ideal situation, where you wake up next to someone that you are really excited about and would love to spend the whole next day in bed with. Alas, those people are a rare gift, with the makings of a real love, aren't they? And so, for that person that we know that we just want to have sex with, we really don't want them sleeping in our beds, because that privilege should be saved for someone special, in my humble opinion.

My best friend once told me that her grandmother used to say to her "your bed is your best friend", when she was a little girl. I guess we never grow out of some things.

The Reconciliation Fantasy of Love Addiction

In a Love Addict's perfect world, we would see each other across the room and would not be afraid to look into each other's eyes. There would be no bitterness, no more anger. Everyone else would disappear and I would run into his arms. He would hold me tight and say that he was so very sorry. I would say it's okay now. We would not fight our destiny to be together any more. We would commit for real, we would depend on each other, have realistic expectations, speak the truth of our hearts, accept and divulge, communicate responsibly, maturely and never let anyone come in between our unbreakable bond of destiny.

Goodbye To A One In A Million

When Patrick Swayze first came onto the Hollywood scene, he was the ultimate sexy, bad boy. Displaying his gorgeous arms, and a genuine smile, he fought the bad guys and won. And, of course, I adored him. He was the leader of the pack. I watched 'The Outsiders' and 'Roadhouse' over and over, and watched him from film to film, panting over his easy, righteous, masculine authority. He was King.

In the real world, he was even more manly than the characters that he portrayed. His Queen was his wife, Lisa. He clearly loved and worshipped her, and was married to her for 34 years. They renewed their wedding vows last year, after 33 years of marriage, which is absolutely unheard of in Hollywood.

Goodbye Patrick. I will miss you, and will never forget you. Thank you for being so bad, and so good.

Football Weekends

Football season is officially upon us again. All one has to know, to find out how important this sport is to American culture, is to hear the words of the late John Heisman, "it is better to have died a small boy, than to fumble this football".

So make fire, eat, drink and be merry this day. Have a great Sunday everyone!

A Kiss That Stops Time

Have you ever kissed someone and it was so good that it just stopped time?

Fantasy Football

It's that time of the year again! Men everywhere are a giddy with excitement for the first kick-off of football season. Like little elves, they start forming groups and gathering all of their information ammunition for fantasy football leagues. Participating men that I've asked, spend between 1-12 hours a week on this hobby... or fantasy rather.

Betty Swallows

A while back, a girlfriend and I were having a beer at my favorite pub. Whilst looking for our drunken, name-clad dollar bills that decorated the bar area in its entirety, all the way to the ceiling, we looked up and saw the words 'Betty Swallows'. This just so happened to be the third time in a row within one week that we had seen reference to 'swallowing' in a bar (yes, it was a tough week). We both looked at each other and said in stereo "oh Jesus, is that back again"?
Which leads me to several questions. Firstly, how important is swallowing? Secondly, do sexual fetishes come and go like fashion trends? Oh God, am I old enough to have seen them go out of style and come back already? Lastly, who is named Betty these days?

Speaking Of Dick

Okay, this is just funny. If all men were required to wear pants this tight, we women would not have the 'Male Mystery' problem!

The Mystery of Men

We are all fooled from time to time by the opposite sexes outward appearance and persona, but for the most part, in my opinion, some people have the ability to "size someone up" quickly, and others do not. Except in the case of "dick".

If you are single, you can clearly and usually instantly see if you are attracted to someone or not. However, men have a very unfair advantage in this area. A man can see if a girls body is going to work for him sexually or not over her clothing. Over clothing, he can get a pretty good idea of breast size, waist size, ass and on down the line. And if he talks to her, and gets a couple of drinks into her, he can probably even, generally size up, how the sex is going to be. But for us girls, we can only "size" men up to a certain point. We can say that we like what we hear, we like what we see... so far. Wanting to know if his wang is going to work for us is like a plague of the mind. Some women want an average size, some women don't mind smaller (as long as he's a good lover), and some women want the big one. It's like a Christmas present underneath of the tree that you have no idea what it is, and you don't know how much longer you can take it just laying there in front of you, waiting to be opened.

A hundred guys can walk by us, and we never know which one has the junk that fits just right. Is it the tall guy? the well-built guy? the short guy? the unsuspecting, shy guy? the outgoing, confident guy? The smart, unassuming guy? It is the ultimate mystery of the male species... and it's not fucking fair!

Love Addiction & Love Avoidance: The Dance

Hello, my name is Kelly, and I'm an addict. A "Love Addict", that is. According to Pia Mellody, author of 'Facing Love Addiction', I have been a "Love Addict" almost since my first relationship, always being drawn to love men that either cannot be, or will not be emotionally available, or ever experience healthy intimacy with another person. She calls these men "Love Avoidants". I have to admit, after reading this book, it is true. According to Pia, "Love Addicts" are tragically, only drawn to "Love Avoidants" in their lives to try to fulfill, or fix the trauma within themselves, from a primary care giver not being emotionally available. In other words, for me and women like me, it has been scratching and clawing at men that remind us of our fathers, so as to finally get his attention and to matter, aka: Daddy Issues. However, this man that we are attracted to, being a replica of our fathers, doesn't have the ability to experience true healthy intimacy with another person, for his own reasons, and in fact, feels completely smothered, frightened and irritated by the "Love Addicts" attention at a certain point. He wants to be with her, but only up to the point where he feels it is safe. Mellody states "Love Avoidants consciously (and greatly) fear intimacy because they believe that they will be drained, engulfed, and controlled by it". "Love Avoidants where drained, engulfed and controlled by someone else's neediness (somewhere in their childhoods), and they don't want to go through that experience again". So they flee, and then to try to fix their own trauma, they come back again when time has past and they feel it's safe to re-enter the relationship.

We are drawn to what is familiar to us, aren't we? And so, both of us, go back and forth in this dance between two emotionally unhealthy people that are drawn to each other and then repelled over and over again.

Picture courtesy of vi.sualize.us/tag/robot/?page=5

Lucky You II

Allow me to be creative for a moment. I think I like the middle one the best. What's your vote?

Raining Men

I drive a girl truck. You know one of those little ones. It is nice and I love my little truck. It has an extra cab for all my stuff and it hauls things at my whim, so that I don't have to bother others to do it for me. Occasionally, it hauls a "cute boy".

One night I went out to meet some friends at a swanky restaurant bar in my little redneck truck. They were guy friends and so I was doomed to meet no one. I was in the middle of a huge dry spell, very antsy and I was totally cock-blocked. I decided it could be worse, shook it off and started drinking to forget about it. We all had a blast, then I went out to leave. I backed out of my parking space, then heard and felt a huge banging around in the back of my truck. Someone had jumped into the back! My heart almost stopped and I looked at my glove box and was trying to remember if I had put my gun back into it or not while I had heart palpitations and tried to breathe. I turned around to look at who was behind me and it was one of the most gorgeous guys I had ever seen in this neck of the woods. This guy looked like a male model. He was laying in the back of my truck waving a manicured hand at me. I just sat there staring at him. He was well-dressed from his Banana Republic shirt to his Prada shoes. Clearly this guy was not from here. He was tall, svelte and confident as hell, with a smile that lit up the fucking parking lot. I decided that he was drunk and completely harmless, so I looked up and thanked the dating gods for smiling on old Kelly girl that night.

I rolled down my window and said "Are you looking for work?" He said "I'm going home with you". I said "Are ya now? I don't even know you". He said "Well let's go somewhere and get to know each other". I said "I like the attitude. Get in the front, I'm not driving you around like a tomato picker". He did. We did. I drove him back to his nice little condo in the morning and never heard from him again. No false promises, no apathetic phone number exchanging. He was going back to wherever he came from (I don't remember where that was) and we said goodbye and good luck.

That was the night that the gods decided to give yours truly a much needed gift and break. And for the first time in my life, I just took the gift gracefully. I didn't ask why, I didn't fight and try to claw for more, I just said thank you quietly to myself and drove away.

The Guy Who Doesn't Drink

Every now and again my girlfriends and I run across a nice man, who wants to take one of us out, but he doesn't drink, aka: The Guy Who Doesn't Drink.

Now, I've always said "never trust someone who can't go out and have a couple of beers and be done with it". However, for some women, this may not be an issue, and in fact, I hear tell, that it is actually a plus for some. Of course, I can assure you, that for my two best friends and me, it is most certainly not okay. Unless all three of us need a designated driver and he makes pick up's and deliveries at no cost, with a smile and has the patience of a saint and possibly ear plugs.

But admittedly, I've gone out with The Guy Who Doesn't Drink, because, what wouldn't I do for the possibility of a good story to tell? However, I'm setting aside my own stories for today, because the ones with the non-drinkers are simply not that exciting, and I have recently decided to spare any more of them from the misery of knowing me. I finally stopped thinking that I would be able to get them to drink using psychological trickery, or by them simply seeing how jolly it made me.

Anyway, my girlfriend Katy recently went out with a very cute guy who did not drink. Katy drinks vodka like I drink beer. Now Katy is no sloppy drunk. She can slam her little pink drinks down like a pro and stand up fully erect in her little pink heels all night and be no worse for the wear. She is never embarrassing, only more and more funny as the night goes on, as the vodka slowly begs her to verbalize everything that pops into her mind. Now this nice young man proceeded to tell Katy that he has a sister who has 'special needs' and that his best friend is also 'mentally challenged', and that he is a bit sensitive to the use of the word 'retarded'. Katy then proceeded to tell him how much she hates the "retarded kid" that lives down the street from her because he keeps moving her fucking potted plants around.

Then, so as not to look too kind and gentle, The Guy Who Doesn't Drink proceeded to ask Katy if she liked "ink", then rolled up his dress shirt sleeves and showed her his flame tattoos around his wrists, and that he's got a lot more where that came from. Katy tells him that she hates tattoos and that his "wrist flames" look like clown cuffs.

At this point, our cute and sweet Guy That Doesn't Drink is so taken with our adorable little Katy's blatant honesty and matter-of-fact smiling, that he quickly asked her out on another date to which she calls me immediately afterwards and says "I dunno, he doesn't drink"!

Fun Date #3

Miniature Golf is fun for several reasons. You get to help the lady that you are with play, as this fine gentleman below is demonstrating. Or, the lady that you are with is fiesty, and you get to have some healthy competition, which always gets the blood flowing. And the best reason (drum roll), is that there are little dark nooks and crannies along the course that you can sneak a make-out session in.

Oh, and Busch Gardens is really good for that too, with all of its caves, when it's not too hot. Yay for kissing "cute boys"!

Fun Date #2

When I was married my husband followed the Pittsburgh Steelers football team. Being supportive of our men, we girls usually follow suite. So, I became a Steelers fan, out on the sidelines of our relationship, for eleven years. I never felt like it was an experience that my husband could actually share with me. He claimed it, it was his, and I just didn't seem to understand how he could spend a solid eight hours in front of the television.

Then when I had a boyfriend, after my divorce, who was a fan of yet, the same team, it was totally and completely, 100% different. He was proud to include me in his experience. He bought me a pink jersey, and pink hats and made it a fun "date" whenever we watched a game, even if it was just at home, and just the two of us. I started to like football for the first time in my life! I enjoyed hosting parties at our house. I bought a football shaped crock-pot for Christ's sake, football napkins, plates and all that girl shit. I was excited! My ex-husband would not have believed it.

The moral of this story is that we want to enjoy what you enjoy. Buy us pink sparkly shit to help us do it.

Picture courtesy of www.onthefield.com

Fun Date #1

Wade fishing is southwest Florida is so great! Summer is almost over. Take a girl fishing while the water is still warm...

In Love With A Dick... Literally

As I talk to my girlfriends, a reoccurring theme of 'dick' keeps coming up (pardon the pun). One friend has "never met a dick she didn't like", and another really hasn't met any that she was too crazy about, and then for myself, there have been those "special" dicks, the one's that I felt that I should have plaster-casted, taken photographs of and built a shrine for. I wondered if anyone else that I knew was haunted by 'Ghosts of Dick's Past', so I went to the expert, my mother.

Last week she and I had dinner, and I thought it was a good time to talk about dick's with dear old mom over appetizers, and so I asked "Mom, can you be in love with a penis, and despise the man that it's attached to"? I'm prone to use more clinical verbiage around my mom, like 'penis', since she is a nurse and I don't make a habit of "cussing" in front of her, otherwise I would have used the more favored 'dick' or my favorite 'cock' (just sounds larger, doesn't it?). Anyway, mom paused ever so briefly, snapped her head towards me, locked eyes on me and said, with what I detected as a tinge of fear and regret in her voice, "oh, yeah".

Turning Into A Dude

I think I'm turning into a dude. Either that, or I'm just turning into an asshole. Probably the latter. I went out with one of my favorite girlfriends last night and she wanted to get dressed up and go to some of downtown Sarasota's "nice" places, which translates into "pretentious Latino-styled bullshit nightclub". I got all dolled up and spent too much money on shitty martini's and sangria and walked too far in heels. Now, I did all of this because my girl is mourning the recent death of her three year relationship with a pathological liar, and she didn't want to go to any "trashy" places, and since it is my job, and duty, to be a compassionate and good friend, I completely understood. Sometimes when you're trying to get over a guy, it feels good to get dressed up and remember that you still look good, and are desirable. It's this vapid routine where we women dress up, get hit on by guys we're not interested in, or not get hit on by guys we think should be interested in us, smile politely and go home to over analyze every moment of the evening. However, last night, as I was supposed to be pointing out all of the positive points of being blissfully single and free to my dear, and heartbroken friend, I found myself instead, taking my heels off, leaning back like a tired trucker, and ordering a beer. Classy, I know, but even as I looked around at a few hot guys at the bar, I thought to myself "I don't give a shit". It's easier to call a fuck buddy than to deal with this mess. And then I looked around at all of the girls at the bar, most of them older than us (it's Florida), and how alert and erect they sat in their little dresses, legs crossed, waiting for something, in heels much taller than mine, I thought to myself again "I don't give a shit". Seriously. And then I thought, if we were in one of the "trashy" places, at least I could just sit and wait for a homeless or recklessly drunk person to do something funny. So, as I looked around for any form of entertainment I could find, that I didn't have to create myself, I wished that one of the debutantes would at least fall down and sprang an ankle, or that there would be a really good "couples fight" somewhere.
Alas, there wasn't, and instead of nurturing my poor friend, I proceeded to tell her how shitty it is being single in this town and how I would rather be sitting at home right now in sweat pants watching Comedy Central and UFC in tandem, smoking a bowl and drinking six beers for the price of the one in my hand. She was not amused with me.

Don't Jiz In My Hairdo!

Sometimes I feel that blow-jobs are like war, when there are no rules of etiquette, and I believe in making love, not war.

On behalf of women everywhere, I would like to say: aim down, and don't jiz in our hair-do's! With that being said, it's not wise to piss someone off who has your junk in their hands. You've been warned.

Bad Boys

Ah, bad boys. They have been the curse of my love life since I was sixteen. One can see my Freudian fate played out so predictably over the years. Father's pay attention here, because little girls grow up to date men just like you. When I was little my father was a typical bad ass. Fiercely good looking and edgy, my teachers would flirt with him shamelessly right in front of me. Never to be pinned down, with grease under his fingernails and ripped up jeans, he would ride away into a mysterious "cool" existence and come back with cuts and bruises and stories to tell. How exciting and cruel it was for my mother, and now for me.

Just like Michelle Phieffer in Grease II, one of my favorite movies in my formidable years, I've always needed a 'cool rider that could burn me through and through'. Such a corny song, but how true it is.

Those damned bad boys hurt so much, but the ride is... heaven.

If You Wanna See It... Buy It!

Don't complain if your girl isn't wearing sexy outfits for you, if you're not buying some...

Power Outfits

'Power Outfits' are one of my favorite subjects, because every woman has one. Whether it's the Cowgirl, Cheerleader, Cat Suit or Catholic School Girl outfit, they mean business when it comes to catching the man that she wants. This outfit is so vital to the feminine wardrobe and once a woman finds the outfit that is hers to claim... a man's resistance is futile.

Could It Be... Satan?!

Here's a funny "bad boy" story. I was traveling with some friends and we went bar hopping and ended up at a place where we were doing shots at a little jukebox type place. And of course, I sniffed out the cute guy that had most certainly ridden a motorcycle there and kept putting money into the juke box to play heavy metal. I then unlocked a storage trunk in my head filled with all of the Metal Edge magazines that I had ever read during high school and proceeded to impress him with my vast and profound knowledge of head banging classics, complete with names of guitar players, their song-writing abilities and their unique playing styles, impressive only to this species of male. So later back at the hotel we were fooling around and my selected 'bad boy' took off his shirt, whilst on top of me, and there it was. Suddenly, two inches from my face, was a tattoo of a black, inverted pentagram that covered this guys chest from nipple to nipple, and reached almost to his belly button. I was so completely shocked that I found myself paralyzed with my mouth hanging open in disbelief as his nipple rings just hung there all sparkly, decorating this huge, offensive tattoo like a christmas tree. I think if he had been further away from me I would have been able to laugh out loud, but it was so in my face, all I could do was mumble 'what the fuck is that?'. That's when he proudly told me the story of getting said tattoo and how he felt that it completely represented his awesomeness.

That's when I grabbed him by the top of the head and shoved him down, and said 'this is all your gonna get, enjoy it, because I can't stare at that thing'. Then I wished him lots of luck, he was young yet, and I left. Every time I think of that night, I chuckle. That's what I get!

Risk And Heartache

One of my favorite poems by W.H. Auden goes
"The nightingales are sobbing in the orchard's of our mother's. And heart's that we broke, long ago, have long been breaking others"

Ah, heartache, I know you well. My heart has been broken so many times, I think that if I could see it, it probably looks like crackled glass. Why? I ask myself over and over. Why have I been attracted to emotionally unavailable men, that are so much like my father, when I know better. Isn't the realization of the problem supposed to be the catalyst of fixing it? Isn't realizing that the habits of our pasts, that haven't served us, supposed to spur us on to change? Is this Freudian fate, so ingrained in my psyche that even after knowing that it will hurt me, I still can't break the cycle? Like an addict that relapses, I find myself drawn to the ones that are a challenge. Even though I'm fully aware that these men will never, ever change, does my subconscious feed on that longing that maybe they will? So, I say to myself 'I will not do this anymore, I'm done with bad boys, I want to be attracted to the ones that are emotionally healthy'. So I give them a chance, at the risk of hurting them, because I want so much to break the cycle and to fall madly in love with one of the good ones. I fear breaking them though, so I tread very lightly. But no matter how lightly handled, the heart is a delicate thing when it's open.

But it's the only way to live life. To be open and to love and live with the risk.

Tour Dating

Sometimes for us natives, dating on the coast of Florida, near the second most beautiful beach in America, can feel like being a part-time tour guide. Everyone that lands here, needs someone to "show them around" and they flock to a native gal, like gnats to sweat. Which can put a gal that truly doesn't want to be in charge of the "relationship" stuff, completely and totally in charge. So that the unsuspecting tourist, or date, thinks that we might completely dig figuring everything out all the time. Attention Florida newcomers: We Florida Orange Blossoms are not your personal tour guide bitches.

Sorry. Okay, I had a bad day. Tours will resume tomorrow evening at 7pm.

Dating For Dinner

This recession has hit some of us really hard, which made me start thinking about the saying 'dating for dinner'. This is where girls go out with guys that they might not be very interested in just for a good, free meal. Dating for dinner is anything but free, however. It's taxing and the meal is usually not worth even doing your hair for, much less taking up an entire evening. Sometimes, you get surprised and have a really fabulous time, but 90% of the time, no, and in addition, it's really not nice to do this to a guy, now is it? Especially in a recession like this! However... as I find myself reusing chicken stock and taking inventory of all of the food in my cupboards, it's starting to sound like a good idea again! But then again, more and more guys I'm coming in contact with are unemployed these days, in addition to yours truly (attention all book publishers), and so a smart girl has to make sure to find the well fed men with the secure occupations. But a nice girl will probably end up losing those last ten pounds really soon...

picture courtesy of: www.outfitinspirations.com

To Tattoo Or Not To Tattoo

What makes some guys get tattoos and some guys not? I've always wondered what the dynamic is with this. What do other guys think about guys with tattoos, or none? Feedback please!

For The Love Of Chairs

For Fuck's Sake

If one more guy asks me if I have condoms, I'm going to freak out. Here's the deal. It's your dick, not mine. I don't know what size your little friend is. It's your responsibility to make sure he has the proper attire for entry if you're going to take him out and introduce him to people. If and when I've had condoms, they've been either to too big, too small, too thick, whatever. I don't get this. Do we girls ask men if they've "got any birth control pills" before we get it on? No. Listen, we know that you don't like condoms, we don't either, but it's just something that we have to deal with, isn't it? I thought we had all gotten this through our heads in the ninties, during the 'Safe Sex' and 'No Glove, No Love' ad campaigns. Be a big boy and figure it out... for fuck's sake!

A Medical Breakdown

So I went to the chiropractor a couple of weeks ago, and he asked me out, and he was actually cute and very assertive about asking me out (which makes it all the more flattering), so I said yes. He called me and I didn't have a chance to call him back because I was out with my girls and in loud places, etc. I vowed to call him back the next day. However, the next day he called me again, which is great (again, I was flattered, this guy seemed to seriously be taken with me, as he actually stated), so I answered and proceeded to apologize for not calling back yet, as I was not able to talk the day before. Then, this man, that I had met, only once, for a brief few minutes, in a professional medical environment mind you, said "you are a bad girl and you need to be spanked!". After a long moment of silence on my part, after the shock of what this stranger had just said to me began to sink in, I said "Uh... you don't know me well enough to say something like that to me...". Then, he said "Oooo, she doesn't like that!". Another few moments of silence... I believe I said in disbelief "Are you kidding me? I have to go. Bye bye now.".

So then I got to thinking, this guy is giving me all the signs that he just needs to get laid really, really badly, in a very untactful way, and that's all he wants. And since a "doctor" of some sort, is on my bucket list, and I also needed to get laid really, really badly, I slept with him. It was... uh... enthusiastic. But then two days later, he proceeded to get completely peeved because I wouldn't go out with him again, even though I thought we both got exactly what we wanted and expected. And women are confusing? This one still baffles me.

A local rocker friend of mine who had slept with every hot girl within a fifty mile radius told me many years ago, when I was 19 years old, 'Kelly, women come off, exactly how they want to be treated. Remember that'. I never forgot it. If I knew I came off, as a first impression to a guy, as a drunken idiot, I could never blame them for only trying to get into my pants without courting me for a month before hand. Hey, what did I expect, right? Not that they ever got what they wanted (I was a firm believer in not sleeping with my guy friends, plus, I was usually in a relationship back then), but I had to take some responsibility for acting like an idiot. Well, this same rule can be applied to men. You come off how you want to be treated by a woman. Inappropriate, arrogant, silly, or classy, assertive and smart? Remember it.

So, now I need a new chiropractor.

photo courtesty of www.tatianacaldwell.com

A Girl's Ego

I have recently learned that sometimes being a nice girl, mean's cutting the cord with a guy that you know is not the "one". Mark Twain once wrote, "There are no grades of vanity, there are only grades of ability in concealing it." How true this is for both sexes. A year ago, I thought only of men's ego's and the desperate and cold actions they take to protect them, and then along came mine. Dating "mean-timers", as Dr. Ian Kerner calls it, has been to fill in the spaces of my life, between the guys that I was crazy about, who broke my heart, that I was trying to get over, while waiting for ther real "one" to come along. All the while robbing myself of much needed time to self-reflect and giving other nice guys, hope that there would some day be something more between us. Telling myself that I was being a nice companion, a "nice" girl, fun and sweet, when really, all I was doing was leading men on, only for both parties to be dissapointed.

The focus lately has been so much on girls getting a clue and to stop fighting the fact that "he's just not that into you", whereas I find that so many of my girlfriends and I, just need to admit that "we're just not that into him either". So why date them? To stave off loneliness? To itch the scratch of needing to get laid to be able to think straight? To make sure, one more time, that I'm not just being too picky, and that I should give him another chance? For me, it's been all of those things, and, that my ego just needed him... to be into me. And if I'm really going to be honest enough with myself to be a good person, this behavior is inflated and mean, and now that I see it for what it is, I don't want to do it anymore. My happiness should not cause others sadness. I'm turning a new leaf, it's time for me to carry joy wherever I go, not false expectations.

Artwork: Monster in the Mirror by Pretty As A Picture at www.deviantart.com

Good Girl, Bad Girl

So I went on this date the other night with a guy that had lots of great potential, except for one thing that gals my age (ugh), know is a huge red flag. He was 40 years old and had never been married. Can I get over it, I thought? Sure, we all have our reasons for things, whatever. Well the evening was going fine enough, until he said to me "I think you are too good for me". So, I'm sitting there staring at this guy blankly, and the wheels are turning in my head trying to translate this guy speak. Of course, my first translation is 'okay, he's not interested. okay'. But then he proceeded to tell me that he usually dates 'barbie dolls'. I had to laugh inside, because that is what I've been called my whole life whenever my hair is blonde (minus the fake boobs). So, I said, 'okay, is that what you are looking for?' thinking now, 'why am I here?'. He explained that he didn't know why that was the case, but that was his history and that now he was looking for something more, someone with... a brain. Okay, good. I understand this. I've been known myself, in the past to date the biggest dumb guy I could find, as long as he could get it up on command. In fact, there were several that I had actually wished were mute. Anyway, then he asked me a question that I've never been asked on a first date before. He said 'what's the wildest thing you've ever done?'. I looked at him as if he had just stepped off of a spaceship. That's when the southern came out and I looked at him and said 'Honey, you're out of your mind if you think I'm gonna tell you that on this here, first date'. But that's when I realized, the correct translation for the previous, 'you're too good for me' statement. He meant, literally! Like, you are actually 'too good' as in 'you have morals' (which is debatable at times), as in 'you're going to wear eyeshadow that is appropriately applied and wear clothes that actually fit you'. I think he could have just said 'I can't really see your cleavage, so this really isn't going to work for me'. So, this was a first. Too "bad" for some, "too good" for others. Damned if you date, damned if you don't.

Chemistry

There is no denying chemistry. It is a force to be reckoned with, like no other.