It should be.

He looked at me over the dinner I just made for us. Garlic sautéed bell peppers, wine, and dyed eggs sat between us.

“How could anyone ever be mean to you?” he said referring to the very limited information I had relayed about MF.

I smiled. But I wanted to cry.

“I’m serious. How? You are so nice, and caring, and…” His words trailed off and everything was a little fuzzy, including the velvet seat beneath my rump. I really have no idea what he said to me after that.

When I came back to Earth, “Well you deserve it. You are always thoughtful of me. Always asking me how I am. Always thinking of me. You are unlike anyone I have ever met,” I told him.

Immediately I regretted saying that last line. So cliche and dumb. Can we rewind and make me sound a little less like an ass? Nope. Ok well, moving forward.

“But that’s all normal stuff,” he said.

“No, it’s really not,” I said.

“Well it should be,” he smiled.

This past Sunday I planned a surprise day for Mr. M.

He has been working incredibly hard on some projects at work and the stress was wearing on him. And despite all of the stress, he was still wonderful to me. He didn’t ignore me, or treat me strangely. He even surprised me with cupcakes from Cuppies & Joe.

Red VinesAnd his surprise day was based around one thing. A bath. Funny, I know. But awhile back Mr. M mentioned he hadn’t had a bath in like a year. His current shower situation didn’t allow for baths. And I just found that unacceptable, since baths are a regularity in my life. I bought man wash (aka Old Spice), a man louffa (silver man color), Red Vines (his favorite man candy), and bath salts (that weren’t really so manly in any scent).

I cleaned my bathroom from head to toe, lit some candles, put on some relaxing music (Bon Iver Pandora station) and welcome Relax Town USA!

And before the best bath ever, we dyed eggs, in honor of Easter and really just in honor of the fact that dying eggs is an incredible amount of fun. We chomped on bread and brie, sipping some wine, and coming up with crazy egg creations.

Then I snuck away to get the bath ready. “Get naked,” I told him. And he did. Remember, the Vow is (semi intact). So no funny business, just a warm, relaxing bath.

While Mr. M bathed away his stress I started dinner. I was finishing everything up when he walked in.

After the fuzzy moments I mentioned above, our conversation continued… “No one has ever done something for me this nice,” he said.

“Well, that’s unfortunate…ever?” I was confused. Mr. M was one of the kindest guys I had ever met. No one ever did things like this for him?

“No, I’m usually the one doing stuff like this,” he said.

“Well it’s all normal stuff.”

“Not for me,” he was acting a little different.

“Well, it should be,” I said and we both smiled at our realization that we both thought it should be for different (yet I guess, the same) reasons.

Yours thinking about how it should be the case that we think about the ones we are with a little more often (but why don’t we?),



The Sex Above Me

Sex is happening all around me (I’m assuming)…but that doesn’t mean I want to hear it.

When I first moved into my place, back in September, I would hear my upstairs neighbor clomp around. He must have been wearing boots or something, because every step was predictable. Clomp, Clomp…clomp.

I didn’t hear conversations or words, just clomping.

But it wasn’t long before I heard…romping.

(yes, I wanted to rhyme…I’m poetic. See.)

The sex above me isn’t strange at all. It actually sounds quite, boring. And stereotypical. The creaking of a bed accompanied by a droning, “uh, uh, uh.”

But when I first moved in (after the shit hit the fan, bed and couch) this was the last sound I wanted to hear. I remember it was around 2 in the morning when it first happened. It sounded like it was in my room. In my head. I don’t know why it upset me so much. But it did. I was frozen. I couldn’t get up and turn on music. I didn’t have a TV at the time (remember, I sold all of my belongings to move in with MF). I just lied there. Softly weeping, I didn’t want them to hear me. I felt more alone in the world than I ever had felt in my life.

I guess, writing this out now, I was a big cry baby about hearing stranger sex, because that was the only time I really felt like MF gave a damn in our relationship–when we were having sex. Really, it wasn’t amazing or anything. He took charge and I loved that. But he had a hard time looking me in the eye. He never kissed me during the day or touched me at all really. But at night. He would. I was conditioned to feel love from him then. It was the only time I felt like he accepted me fully. But really, he probably just wanted to do it. Funny how I made this to be something romantic and loving.

I heard it again today, the sex above me, it had been quite a while since the last time. It didn’t make me sad though. I turned on my Mariah Carey Pandora station (because it’s a good mix of melancholy and movin’-on-with-my-life diva) and drowned it out. Mainly for their privacy.

I guess that’s the best thing about time, and the sex above me. It will keep happening—both the sex and time—and that’s fine and good. I will find solace in my Pandora. My Vow. And all of the beautiful things in my life that I appreciate everyday. No need to cry at a stranger’s sex, that’s just…sad.

buffy and spike

Buffy and Spike sex...some of the hottest made for TV sex you will ever see. You think I'm joking? I don't joke around about such serious matters as those that involve Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I really don't.

But in my future love-making endeavors, I may take this into consideration. There may be sad people around me that don’t want to hear my sexy moans and groans. Because they are preeeetttyyy great…I’m not going to lie. 😉

Yours considerately,


Guest Blogger – 1foot in business.

(This post is part of an awesome series of awesome 25swf guest bloggers- read about them here!)

I love my red water bottle. We are rarely separated. It even came with me to the bar last weekend. Filled with water. This is a thing about me.

Oklahoma, Oklahoma – I had a dream about you last night where there was a truck crashed in my front yard and I was packing, packing, packing and I never. Stopped. Packing. I keep telling myself it’s time, I’m ready to leave, to walk out the doors – if only for an intermission. You see, there are too many memories here. This is too much the place where We were Together. And our togetherness is too much over. So I need to leave, right?

But… I have this thing.  About my feet. Regina Spektor sings about it here.  And what happened was, I was trying to create my user name, and there was waaaay too much frustration and I was thinking waaaay too much about it, and I had my Adele Pandora station on (which, by the way, is a great station for all you female vocalist fans out there) and I was about to go to bed because it was 1 in the morning (way too much time spent on this thing) and then… well, Ms Spektor popped up with her lovely song, which, in the true nature of happenstance (if happenstance can be said to have a true nature) (can you tell I lurve parentheses?), I had never, never actually listened to the lyrics of before, even though I have stated many times that I love Regina Spektor and I love this song. SO the moral of this one-long-sentence story is: I took my feet off the ground two and a half years ago and in turn lived two years of my life in a state of glorious love and happiness, for the most part. Five months ago, my feet hit the ground so hard, I’m still feeling the shock waves. Now, my goal is to be able to trust in the air again, to be able to let my feet leave the ground  in whatever form this takes, and to know that this is a good thing to do.

I’ve been far far away before, almost as far away as it gets. And I’m craving that distance again, so be prepared for posts about that. Also please be prepared for posts about, well, almost anything.

So, not a real great Intro To Me section, and it’s pretty long. But, this is me right now. And this could change at any time. Because when I finally throw myself back into the wind, I think I’ll be more grounded than ever. But I’m taking the water bottle with me, yo.



Curiosity killed the…

Today has been lovely a day. Everything about the day matched up…fitting so perfectly with the next part. I was working hard and I felt like the smoothness of it all was my reward.


This is what came up when I googled "Curiosity Killed the Cat"...I thought it was appropriate 😉

I got that feeling. Ya know that feeling that creeps up on you when you are feeling fine and dandy? The creeping feeling to creep on Facebook where you shouldn’t be creeping. On who? Ex boyfriends, of course my dear friends.

I wish there was a Facebook message (coherent of what you were doing) that said DANGER! when you tried to creep around. The mental DANGER! note wasn’t enough.

First I creeped on “Parker” who I’ve mentioned a couple of times, but I haven’t dived much into that relationship except for when I first started this blog (click here to read a bit about Parker). I saw that someone (a lady) had tagged him in a status where she thanked him for some red roses. I thought, well…maybe he’s dating this chica. So I clicked on her name, and saw that they were in a relationship. I wasn’t sad or anything. I was actually really happy for him. I mean, I’m not going to lie, I felt a little sad that our friendship is going to change. I won’t contact him anymore, mainly because I don’t want to cause any trouble between them, but other than that…I felt pretty good about his recent change from 25, single, white, male.

But I didn’t stop creeping there…of course I had to go to my most recent fellow. The “Mind Fuck” (who I thought about giving a false name, but nothing is as descriptive as Mind Fuck…we’ll shorten it to MF for efforts sake). I de-friended MF on Facebook quite a while ago, back in September, so I can’t see his whole profile. I thought this was best for everyone, because let’s be honest…it’s painful seeing that stuff. But I can still creep. I see limited information, but I noticed he had been tagged in a picture with a girl. So, the curiosity creeped…and I clicked.

The caption read “NY for NYE!!!” and I thought… “huh???” Like, THIS New Years Eve? Surely not. I thought maybe this was from high school or something?


Curiosity creeped even more, and I clicked. Some girl. I don’t even recall her name. In a relationship with MF. Anniversary January 1, 2011.

This was my trip last New Years with MF.

And then when I tried be friends with him again a few of months ago (October). I told him I wanted to go to New York again for New Years, and I wanted to go with him.

I quickly decided a couple of weeks after trying to be “friends” that that was the worse idea EVER. Obviously, New York wasn’t going to happen.

Frankly I am terrified for this new girl. Does she know? I want to yell at the top of my lungs, “DON’T DO IT!” but that just can’t happen.

I have to own up to my feelings. Seeing that he’s in a relationship made me really sad. Maybe sad because well, that was fucking fast. Maybe sad because, that girl is fucked. Maybe sad because, it’s just sad…he is sad.

First thing I did after I read all this bullshit was I told my mom. Her response was the worse thing ever.

“You’ve been replaced.”

“Mom, why would you ever say something like that?”

Everything she said afterwards I didn’t hear. I just got up (I’m visiting home), picked up my keys and wallet and said I needed to take a drive. She felt awful and started crying. I still needed a drive.

So I drove around for half an hour. I got lost. I cried a little bit. I listened to some J-Lo Pandora and I felt better.

All of this curiosity clicking has really put me in a funky mood. And I was having such a glorious day. But I ended that for myself. ME. I did that.

I really need your advice. How do you resist the urge to click?

Yours curiously,


A day of one’s.

January 1, 2011. 01-01-11.

Do you have any idea what this means?!?!

Well, this year is going to be #1, of course!

I was —-this close to not going out for New Years. As the day grew I felt less and less in the mood. But I sucked it up.

I started getting ready (with the aid of my Jay-Z Pandora station) and I made it through. I’m so glad I went out and didn’t trust my fuddy-duddy instinct to drown my sorrows in a sad cup of hot chocolate and a bowl of homemade popcorn. I can do that any night 😉

I think I have to do that a lot more…get over my fuddy-duddy instinct. Because despite my outgoing, talk-too-much, people-loving attitude, I LOVE to stay in. I love Netflixing my heart away and hunkering down under the covers with cats sprinkled in there somewhere. It’s glorious. But only glorious when it’s rare.

Like all good things, they are only their best in moderation.

And here’s to 2011! The NUMBER 1 year, by default.

ps. My actual New Year’s Night really wasn’t that exciting (story wise), although enjoyable. I ran into a bunch of people, which was delightful. AND I did get a lot of (mean) glares from the same-sex, due to the red dress, of course. I don’t think I’ve ever experience a mean glare. They are pretty funny looking, really.

Yours futuristically,