Sleepless in Colorado.

I remember when I first moved away from home. I was young, optimistic, chock-full of naivety and sass and leaving a fair amount of boy-baggage behind me, back east. The mental future I had laid out for myself was somewhat unconsciously inspired by the first half of every romantic-comedy movie ever produced. I intended to be a hip, single chic with a cool apartment, fun job, and great friends--maybe even a gay best friend. I'd go for walks in the park and sip lattes at some quaint little cafe while reading pretentious literature. It was going to be fantastic. Of course in every one of those damn movies, it's just a matter of time before the potential love interest arrives, turns that girl's life upside-down and shows her how to love again. Most of these movies irritate me because of glossed over problems and implied eternal bliss. They should make sequels to all of them, showing boy and girl's first fight over boy getting drunk with his buddies or girl forgetting to pay the electric bill. Oh the hijinks that ensue when boy forgets to take out the trash and girl accidentally shrinks boy's favorite T-shirt. Somehow I don't think the sequels would do as well at the box-office. Why? Because reality kind of sucks sometimes, but it is inevitable. Not every night can be spent holding hands ice-skating in the park, or sitting together in a bathtub for hours. And my understanding is that those nights spent making love until dawn on a bed of rose petals, eventually turn into "Okay, it's Wednesday, let's do this." and "For god's sake, would you put your dirty clothes in the hamper?!!" But I digress... My life was shaping up just like I'd pictured. The trouble is, much like in the movies, every time I found myself living the dream, some dude came along, swept me off my feet and fucked everything up. That's why from now on, I will not be allowing any fellas to romance me unless:

A.) They are bravely battling a terminal illness and have fewer than 6 months to live.

B.) They have been my friend for years and I suddenly realize what I've wanted all along was right before my eyes.

C.) They are an attractive but lonely millionaire I meet turning tricks some night.

Anyone else can just keep moving...I've got to go volunteer at a nursing home, walk some dogs, take care of my sick dad/aunt/brother/whatever and finish my novel. I would prefer not to be distracted.

Because you can give yourself a neck rub, but it's not the same...

It's hard not to feel lonely this time of year. I'm not even talking about the holidays... that is a whole other bowl of depression. I'm talking about autumn. The air gets brisk and the days get shorter. The entire season is devoted to cozy things like apple cider, sweaters and fireplaces. Everything about autumn is conducive to snuggling under a blanket with someone and watching movies. So it stands to reason that no matter how good you're feeling about your life, or how happy and fulfilled you typically fancy yourself, this time of year can throw you for a loop. It sneaks up on you too... Recently, I've found myself wanting to punch couples in their respective, happy faces. Normally, I am fairly indifferent to couples. I figure if they want to be in a relationship, good for them! Their lives are probably a little dull and they likely spend more time watching reality TV together than having sex, but they're happy. Of course, all jadedness aside, they also have someone to spoon with after a rough day. I believe it was that revelation that prompted my near-assault on some people canoodleing in front of me the other day. I also realized during a moment of reflection, that close to 80% of the relationships I've been in, began between September and November. Coincidence? I don't think so. Now, I am a self-proclaimed nostalgia-junkie. Once I start rolling down memory lane, it's difficult to stop and I often end up in a sad little funk. I was driving home from work tonight with the heater blasting, since my driver's side window is stuck in the down position. It's one of the first nights this season that we've had rain and a few snow flurries. I've been so looking forward to either, I didn't even care that my left ass-cheek was wet from said weather soaking my car seat. The smell of the moisture in the air and the way the clouds and mist hung in the sky as I was driving, sent my mind away. I was transported back to autumn of 2004 when my ex and I got together. He had this small, cozy apartment just down the street from my own, with a heater in the living room that looked like a wood-burning stove. That heater made his apartment soooo warm and comforting. I remember going over there and watching movies and talking for hours on end in that toasty little womb of an apartment that smelled intoxicatingly like coffee and incense. It was my happy place and it would have been next to impossible not to fall in love with him in those surroundings. When I recall memories like that, it's hard not to become enveloped by a sense of loss and loneliness. Thankfully I am able to recognize it as the perfect, yet fleeting, moment in time it was. I smile fondly and dreamily, (perhaps cry a little) and move on, knowing there will surely be even more perfect moments like it down the road.

I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're not in love with me yet...

Dating. It continues to be something of a foreign concept to me. I remember when I was growing up, I would watch movies and TV shows where people would go on dates and I recall being very excited at the prospect that someday, when I was older, I too would be participating in this ritual. My brother and I had a "dress-up" box, filled with old Halloween costumes and thrift-store clothes that we would put on and parade around the house in when we were bored. I distinctly remember being around 9 or 10 years old and putting together an outfit consisting of a black miniskirt and a blue and black, sleeveless, zebra print shirt with a silver sequined belt over top (laugh it up, but this was the 80's and it was rad.) I told my parents this was what I intended to wear on my first date, to which my Dad replied "over my dead body." Turns out he didn't have to worry about that for a long time. Awkward adolescence hit me with a vengeance and between the 3 years of braces, the spiral perms I was so fond of, and a very unfortunate fashion-sense, the boys weren't exactly lining up around the block to ask me out. When my friends and I finally did start attracting the opposite sex in our mid-teens, actual "dates" continued to elude us because we inevitably went out with boys we already knew and who were part of our circle of friends. We would all hang out as a group at parties or at the park or at concerts, but there was rarely, if ever, one-on-one time spent doing anything except making out in the back of a car. I did not go on my first legitimate date until I was 22 years old and it was a total train wreck. For some reason, I took a liking to this friend of a co-worker, who seemed nice and who I thought was somewhat attractive, even though he was 46 years old. He took me out to dinner at an Italian restaurant, and before we had finished the first course, he had already proven to be A.) a complete racist B.) a complete moron C.) possibly the owner of a puppy mill. If only cell phones had been common then... I would have been texting everyone I knew to come get me the hell out of there. Since then, I have most often ended up with co-workers whom I already knew on a friendly basis, therefore making "getting to know you" dates unnecessary. Fast forward to present day and my most recent predicament. I'm at this Pub last week and I run into this unbelievably cute guy from the natural foods store, who I've had a crush on forever (see my previous blog entitled #1 Crush). I decide it's fate and that if I don't talk to him, I will regret it forever. So I go talk to him... and he ends up asking me for my number... and he calls me 2 days later... and we go out for a beer the next day... and we talk for hours and have a great time... or so I thought. I foolishly assumed he felt the same connection I did and that my wit and girlish charm would have him pining for the next moment he could spend with me. It's now been a full week and I have not heard from him. I find myself thoroughly confused and wondering if this is one of those "games" I always hear about. Or if, as the movie so eloquently put it, "he's just not that into me". Regardless, this experience has soured me a little toward dating. Why should I put myself out there and deal with this nonsense when I have 2 perfectly loving cats at home and a stack of books on my night-stand just waiting to be read? After all, there's no law that says you have to be old to be a spinster.

Pregnant is the new black...

Everywhere I turn, it seems people are procreating. I feel as though a boom started in Hollywood a few years back with people like Britney Spears and Katie Holmes and ever since then, every fertile woman of child-bearing age in America has decided to get knocked up. Maternity clothes are all super stylish now, and you can get all sorts of cute, designer baby clothes for your child to throw-up on and poop all over. Maybe I am just hypersensitive to this because I am at an age where many of my friends are beginning to feel their biological clocks start ticking. I have a couple of close girlfriends who will likely be "with child" within the year, simply because regardless of their situations, they've decided it's time. This is incomprehensible to me. I think I might be missing the "maternal gene". I've been on the fence for years, about whether or not I want to have kids. I'll admit, I entertained the idea when my ex and I were together, but I'm a bit of a control freak and I never felt stable or secure enough with him to go through with it. (Thank God) Also, to be perfectly honest, most kids annoy the crap out of me and/or scare me. I view them as tiny sociopaths. They have no concept of right or wrong and care very little about the consequences of their actions. It's unsettling. Of course, everyone I tell this to gives me the parenting tagline: "Oh, you'll feel differently when they're your own." To this I reply: "What if you're wrong?" One of my biggest fears is that I will have a kid and I won't like him/her. Then what? My understanding is, you can't return them. I just spent a week with my brother, his wife and my two beautiful nephews, who are 2 years old and 4 months old respectively. I will admit that I love these two little beings, possibly more than anything else in the world, but after spending a few days with them, I was exhausted. In my head, I multiplied how I felt by about twenty, and was suddenly aware of how my poor sister-in-law must feel every day of her life. I'm not sure I could do it and I'm not sure I want to. Parenting tagline #2: "Your whole life changes when you have a baby, but you get used to it because it's sooo worth it." To this I reply: "What if I don't want my whole life to change?" I like staying up until 3 a.m. and sleeping until noon. I like going out dancing and drinking and enjoy eating at nice restaurants. I like having perky boobs and good bladder control. I know there is a chance I will change my mind someday and decide I want to be "Mommy", but for right now I am perfectly happy being nothing more than "Aunt Jess".

Do you know The Secret?

I know "The Secret". You might laugh and call me a delusional hippy, but for those of you who are also in the know, you can appreciate the power of the universe. For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, allow me to give you a brief education on the principles. "The Secret" suggests that you can have anything you want/need in this world, you just have to "attract" it to yourself with positive thought. Basically, you can manifest your own destiny by focusing on what you want in your life; the law of attraction being that "like attracts like". I don't typically put a lot of stock into this sort of flowery nonsense, but this makes sense to me and seems somewhat legitimate. That being said, I have crafted a "vision board"... a 2X3 bulletin board containing pictures and quotes of things I want to see, do and be. It has so far proven surprisingly affective. The trouble is, lately I seem to be accidentally manifesting the wrong things by not being completely clear about my intentions and desires. Example: I recently decided to try to form a clear picture in my head, of what my ideal mate would look like. I am here to tell you it's really difficult to do that from scratch. You inevitably end up picturing people you already know, then cutting and pasting together some amorphous image of a whole person. Or, in my case, you get distracted with picturing someone who you are unbelievably attracted to, but who is completely wrong for you in every other way and end up inadvertently bringing that person back into your life in a most unhealthy manner. I would never consciously and rationally try to bring too-young-for-me-emotionally-unavailable-immature-man-whores into my world, yet apparently because there are a grip of them floating around town right now, my irrational subconscious was like "Eh, have a little fun... what's the harm?" The harm lies in the fact that the very recent ex-girlfriend of this particular mistake, is bunny-boiling crazy and prone to stalking... I will be re-vamping my vision board this week, and I am tempted to fill it with very safe things like rainbows, moonbeams and a photo of an island where I will vacation soon, because you really have to be careful when you mess with the universe.

I shall continue to rant until I get answers...

I am a pretty positive, optimistic person 99% of the time, but I've had a rough couple of days, so this is what you get. I'll admit it... I don't "put myself out there" very often and here's why: a.) I'm not really looking for a relationship right now. b.) It's a scary world. People lie and misrepresent themselves daily. It's just a matter of time until I let myself trust someone, get comfortable with them, then find a baggie full of fingernail clippings in their medicine cabinet. I'd just assume save myself the restraining order and go with my gut from the beginning. Once in awhile, though, I will meet someone and open myself up to the possibility of dating them and do you want to know what I find? A sweet guy who brings me flowers, is actually a 45 -year old stoner who lives in a van. (Oh, and he stole the flowers.) Aces. A cute guy who comes to my bar and enjoys telling me how beautiful I am and that we should exchange emails so we can "chat" some night, actually has a home, wife (and probably a dog), in the Philippines. Outstanding. Are these really my choices? And it doesn't end there... One of my friends has been accidently dating closeted gay men for years. Then there are the newly-divorced-think-they're-ready-to-date-but-aren't guys, the ones with psycho exes stalking them, the manic-depressives, the drunks, the felons, and the racists. The other thing I'm sick of is all the half-assed, luke-warm sentiment from the somewhat decent ones that have potential. Supposedly, you love me and think I'm wonderful, but instead of making that clear to me and declaring your intentions, you pussy-foot around and act like a douche until I lose interest. Fantastic. Where are the grand gestures? So help me God, if I ever end up married, it will be to the guy who stands outside my bedroom window holding a boombox over his head blaring "In your eyes" by Peter Gabriel. Actually, on second thought, it doesn't even need to be that song... any Monster Ballad from the 80's will work equally well, if not better, and any guy worth my time would know that.

I wonder if she likes me???

The other night I was out with some friends, having a few beers after work. My good friend "S" was introduced to a fella whom she was instantly attracted to. All the surface details were intact: tall, big frame, tattooed, bald. That's her bag, so she decided to chat him up a bit and see where the night led. Unfortunately, after talking for just a few minutes, he did something so many guys tend to do. In what I can only assume was an attempt at humor toward a girl he assumed would laugh, he referred to herbal remedies as "magical-Lord-of-the-Rings-bullshit". Now, while I find this hysterical (even though I too, partake of herbal remedies for what ails me) she was instantly put off. To make matters worse, when we exited the bar at the end of the night, I watched the guy take the last cigarette out of his pack, crumple the pack in his hand and throw it directly on the ground in front of him. I thought my die-hard environmentalist friend's head was actually going to explode. An innocent remark that backfires is one thing, but blatant littering? Oh hell no. This is why my friend refuses to date. Call it 'the perils of acute self-awareness', but I feel her pain. She and I and many others I know, can usually tell within five minutes of meeting someone, whether or not it's worth our time to continue talking to them for another five. She's stellar at it, though she does have a few years on me. I usually know, but tend to give guys more of my time than I should, out of pity, curiosity or sheer boredom. What kills me, is guys that try to impress me with things I have no interest in. Granted, if I've just met you, it's somewhat understandable, but I'm pretty much an open book, so after a few hours, you should know your audience. I once had a guy pick me up for a date and after we got in his car and started driving, he made a reference to the car and somewhat arrogantly asked what I thought of it. "Oh." I asked, glancing uninterestedly around the interior, "What kind of car is this?", since I hadn't noticed and didn't really care. Apparently it was a Mercedes and apparently I was supposed to be impressed. Maybe that should have been his cue that I wasn't the gal for him, but alas he kept calling. A short list of things to say to me if you never want to see me naked:

"Do you want to see my collection of Samurai swords?"

"When I was a kid I used to shoot cats with bb guns."

"I talk to my mom at least 3 times a day."

"Wanna go burn one?"

Now, obviously these situations are relative. If I were out on a first or second date with someone who casually mentioned wanting to settle down and have babies, the only thing left in my chair would be a Jess-shaped silhouette of dust, left behind as I ran screaming down the street, whereas if my good friend "A" was on the same date, she'd be ordering another dirty martini and mentally doing period-math to figure out if she was ovulating. I'm certain there is someone out there for everyone, it's just a matter of trudging through a lot of wrong ones and almosts and maybes until you eventually find someone you truly adore...or can at least put up with for awhile.

Can I buy you a cup of coffee, or pay your mortgage?

I am exhausted. This summer has taken it's toll on me, both emotionally and physically. I've worked some very long hours and had a whole lot of fun. Some would say I've been "burning my candle at both ends" for awhile. Things I've learned: 1.) It is entirely possible to survive on a diet of caffeine, sugar, alcohol and cigarettes. 2.) If you sleep 15+ hours on your day off, it is then possible to function on a mere 3+ every other day of the week. 3.) If you do this long enough, you will eventually crash, realize 3 months have passed you by at an alarming speed and decide you need a vacation to an island in order to recover. This is where a sugar daddy would be quite convenient. I've often joked about wanting one and in fact, I and a few of my friends have had such "opportunities" present themselves over the years. Fortunately, we all have fairly high standards and are plagued with these pesky morals that keep us from submitting. Would it be nice to quit my jobs and instead spend my days shoe shopping, getting spa treatments, and sipping lattes? Yes. I think I would enjoy the hell out of that, but only for about a week or two. Then I would get bored, begin feeling useless, fall into a downward spiral of self-loathing and begin pining for the days when I was a tired, yet self-sufficient, slave to the masses. The larger dilemma, of course, is the implied sexual payback. My understanding is that those resort vacations and $90 facials, come at a price and the fact is, I can't stomach the idea of whoring myself out to some 50-something, overweight, pasty, boring business man. Ideally, when I happen upon the man of my dreams one of these days, perhaps as we both reach for the last bottle of '07 Seghesio Zin at the specialty wine shop, in a very meet-cute, Hollywood way, he will already have made his millions and he won't tell me at first because he'll want to make sure I love him for him and that I'm not just some gold digger. Of course, I'm not, so we will end up falling madly in love and moving into his amazing, yet humble Outer Banks beach house, which I will proceed to decorate with expensive wicker furniture and gauzy curtains that billow in the ocean breeze. But until then, I will continue to haul my tired ass to work every day with a smile on my face, because if nothing else, I have my pride and an intoxicating sense of possibility...

But he's a really mature 17...

Because I work in the restaurant industry, I find myself constantly surrounded by attractive, yet for various reasons, completely unavailable guys. There are the irresponsible slacker types, who spend their entire paycheck at the bar within 2 days, then spend the next 2 weeks bumming cigarettes until payday comes back around. Then there are the CommCorr guys, who are super nice, usually pretty hot, have sweet prison tattoos and a somewhat exciting air of danger about them. Yet, the fact is, they have a state-imposed curfew and must pee in a cup every night when they get "home". But, the most frustrating of all, has got to be "Jailbait". In restaurants, there is never a shortage of cocky, young high-school kids employed to wash dishes, bus tables and perform every other menial task that few functioning adults would ever consider doing for minimum wage. Now, I would never seriously entertain the idea of actually going after any of these adorable, impressionable young men--that would be sick and wrong--but, I have told more than one of them to look me up in 10 years when they are in their 20's and I am a full-blown cougar, at which point it will be, well, less weird. There is one young man imparticular, who has me cursing the universe every day, for bringing him into this world when I was freshman in high school. He is gorgeous, funny, sweet and built like a brick shit-house. He could throw me across a room and I know this because the other night I was apparently in his way, so he picked me up and moved me out of it. Grrr. Damn my parents for teaching me to have morals and a sense of decency. I think more than anything, these boys make me nostalgic for the guys I hung out with in high school and their presence provides a steady stream of amusement for me. From their torn metal T-shirts, down to their painted black fingernails, each one is a surreal blend of the guy I grew up with, my gay ex-boyfriend, and the boy who moved in down the street from me my sophmore year. They have that awkward coolness about them that I've always found so endearing. In a time when all the guys my age are beginning to go pre-maturely bald, or are loaded down with an assortment of baggage resulting from 20's-induced, poor decision making, it's refreshing to be surrounded by their naivete. Everything is new to them and much like I did when I was that age, they think they are quite clever. The other day, one of the more brazen 17-year old dishwashers approached me and said: "Hey Jess, if I told you you had a nice body, would you hold it against me?" Precious, I know. I smiled and told him I'd been using that line since he was in diapers.

Blogs are meant for ranting, right?

I'm having some issues...I don't like being the person who bitches about the same shit so much that no one wants to be around me. And honestly, I feel like I've been pretty good about picking a select few people to spew my crazy all over lately, but this is an attempt to get it all out for good, so that I can stop wasting precious energy on a situation that doesn't deserve my time. So, it's official: the boy who I spent most of the summer with and the girl who has taken over my life, are together. Thank you Facebook for confirming this fact and delivering yet another emotional drop kick to the stomach. The crazy thing is, I'm not jealous. I didn't want to be his girlfriend... I knew on some level that would be a disaster, which is why I never allowed things to become too serious or defined. What hurts, is that he said he didn't want that either, yet clearly, he just didn't want it with me. I don't expect much from people, and I don't typically ask much of them. All I ever want is for people to be straightforward with me. I am painfully honest, perhaps to a fault, and there is nothing I hate more than feeling like I've been lied to, deceived, or duped. That is what is killing me right now. All "extracurricular" activities aside, he and I were friends and I never thought he would be anything less than completely honest with me about anything! I gave him so many opportunities to own up to what he wanted and to tell me what was going on. I point blank told him that if he wanted to date/sleep with Single White Female girl, or any other girl for that matter, he should just tell me and I'd take a step back. He insisted he didn't and that they were just friends/he wasn't interested/she wanted more than he could give her, blah blah blah. Well, congratulations on getting everything you said you didn't want! I just don't get why people say one thing then do another. He is an especially frustrating case because although we are on okay terms right now, if there is any chance of us salvaging the friendship we had, I'm going to need him to admit that he acted like both a coward and a lying piece of shit and I don't really see that happening. I'm not sure I've ever met anyone more confused with and less in command of their own life. If nothing else, I know I will move past my hurt feelings and anger because I suck at holding grudges and life is too short to dwell on insignificant crap that can't be changed. At least now, I can focus on surrounding myself with things that are actually good for me instead of wasting my time on these pleasant little distractions that bring me nothing but drama and blog material. Okay, well, maybe I'll hold onto a few of my distractions...

Some people have 'Penthouse', I have baseball...

Ah summer...long, lazy days spent lying in the sun by the pool; warm nights spent relaxing on patios, sipping sangria. Well, I'd imagine that's what some people's summers are like. People who don't work ungodly hours in a restaurant like I do. Regardless of my schedule, I have managed to have some good fun this summer, including attending two MLB games. One in my home state to watch my Phills blow it, and one in my new home state to see the Rockies kick the crap out of the Cubs. I am a fan. Baseball is one of the few sports I understand and enjoy, thanks to my tom-boy phase around the age of 12 or so. Back then, I collected baseball cards and relished in bonding with my dad and brother while watching Lenny Dykstra steal bases and spit chew. While I still enjoy the bonding aspect and the sport itself, I will admit I now tune in for the ridiculously hot players. When my friend and I went to the Phillies game back in May, she bought seats along the right field line for 2 very specific reasons; 1.) So we'd have a chance at catching foul balls when the lefties were batting. 2.) So we could watch our future husbands (Jayson Werth and Placido Polanco respectively) do their pre-game warm-up stretching. It was money well spent. I only found out later that the entire starting lineup is already happily married. So, I have a new plan... begin attending Colorado Sky Sox games on the regular and scope out some of the minor league boys. Sure, most of them are 10 years my junior, but so what? We've all seen 'Bull Durham'... I am just as hot as Susan Sarandon! I am going to find myself a nice, respectable minor leaguer and ride his coat tails to the top. The whole idea intrigues me... they travel a lot for away games, so he wouldn't be all up in my business all the time and when he is home, we can make up for lost time. Plus, they're in good shape, make good money and have goals. That's more than I can say for most of the dudes I currently know. I will put my plan into action beginning next week. Until then, Ryan Spilborghs, if you are reading this and you like what you see, shoot me an email and we'll go talk stats over beers and if you're not interested, please pass my info along to Miguel Olivo....

Even the best "laid" plans...

So, I recently got blindsided by a situation I thought was potentially harmless. It was my own fault, really, because I broke my own rule: Never try to have a casual, physical relationship with someone you actually care about. I know this. You can't involve emotions and expect things to not get complicated, yet that's exactly what I did. One of my best friends and I spent the entire month of June and most of July together. I had just returned from my month long, soul-searching road trip, was crashing at a friends' house and feeling somewhat lost and vulnerable. He had just broken up with his long-term girlfriend and was feeling much the same way. Like attracts like, and we just sort of fell into each other... It was one of the best months of my life and his, according to him. We attempted numerous times, to talk about what was happening and what exactly we were doing, but seeing as how we are both commitment-phobic, emotionally-crippled Cancers who share a brain, we came to no real conclusions and figured we would just see what happened. Unfortunately, what happened is jealousy, territoriality and hurt feelings made themselves known. Another girl entered the picture; a girl who has taken over every aspect of my life single-white-female style, including both my jobs. When she decided to set her sights on my whatever-the-hell-he-is-to-me, I kind of lost it. I don't have violent thoughts about people often, yet I found myself wanting to rip her face off so I could sew it to her ass, then kick it. In her very slight defense, she was not privy to what was happening with him and I........at first. So, what's done is done. He is an attention-whore, and she is who is paying attention to him now. Meanwhile, I am left wondering why I chose to spend that much time and energy on something I knew would likely end up in confusion and some form of heartache. The best answer I can come up with is that it felt good, provided a temporary escape from my crazy, unsettled life of late, and re-enforced in my mind what it is I actually want. Or at the very least, what I don't want.

I don't remember asking you a g*#damn thing...

Today is my 32nd birthday and as I reflect over the past year, I'm realizing, it's been a doozy. In many ways, the older I get, the younger I act. It's clearly some form of rebellion from having spent my 20's being a responsible, house-wife type. People have always told me your 30's are fantastic. It's when you finally feel comfortable with yourself; you're entering your prime etc. So far, I would have to say everything I've heard is correct. If year 32 is anything like year 31, I could probably die a happy person by year 33. (Though I sure hope I don't) Lately, however, some of my friends have been feeling pressure from family, friends and douche-bag strangers who seem to think giving unsolicited opinions to someone they barely know, about how sad and lonely they must be because they aren't married, is perfectly okay. My good friend just turned 28 and is regularly hearing things like "You're not getting any younger, you know" and "You'd better hurry up and find someone before all the good ones are taken". First of all...not only is she an amazing catch, she's freaking 28 years old!! Are you kidding me? Last time I checked, it was no longer 1955 and getting married and having 5 kids before your 21st birthday was no longer normal, necessary or expected. (Unless you're Morman or you own a farm) Secondly, I'm a firm believer in good things coming to those who wait. The way I see it, my gals and I are at the age where a lot of good guys' "starter marriages" are going to start hitting the skids. We just have to be patient, ride the wave and be ready to pounce once the divorce papers are signed. Unless they are all emotionally scarred and saddled with big alimony payments and a brood of kids. I hear step-children can be a real bitch... As far as I'm concerned, I will settle down someday when I know it's right, but until then, I refuse to simply settle. I would also lose a little respect for anyone I thought was settling for less than what they want/need/desire/deserve, simply because of outside pressures/influences. Plus, I tend to think the people who throw out those passive-aggressive little nuggets of "wisdom" about needing to find someone by a certain age, or having babies "before you dry up" (one of my least favorite expressions of all time) are the very people who are in boring, mundane and possibly, loveless, sexless, passionless relationships and are just trying to get everyone else paired off so they have more couples to invite over for game night. My "Mr. Right" will arrive when I am ready and willing to accept him--not a moment sooner--and I will have babies if and when I am damn good and ready. Until then, you can find me, margarita-in-hand, dancing the night away with all of my "Ms. Rights" and enjoying every second of my single, wonderful 32-year old life.

Order up Part 2 "Seduction via Food"...

Being seduced by food... it absolutely happens. We've all seen (or at least heard about) the scene in 9 1/2 weeks, where they took food play to a whole new and weird level. Personally, I prefer the style of Like Water For Chocolate, where Tita's passions are so strong, they impart themselves into the food she prepares, consuming those who eat it with overwhelming feelings of love, sadness and despair. I consider myself a "foodie". Some might also say I'm a "wino", though I prefer the more euphemistic "oenophile". The point is, I love food and drink in every way. I still remember the first time a boyfriend cooked for me (and I use the term "cooked" very loosely) He took me on a picnic for my birthday and packed all of my favorite things: grilled cheese sandwiches; Dr. Pepper; skittles. I was 18 at the time and my palette had not yet ventured outside of Lancaster, Pa, but it was wonderful and thoughtful. I was impressed. As I got older and began working in and frequenting nicer restaurants, my tastes broadened. The Olive Garden, once the height of sophistication for my friends and I, suddenly became passe'. (Though, if you catch me in the right mood, I can still appreciate a jug of Lambrusco.) I try not to be a snob... I am equally happy, whether I'm eating lobster ceviche at a celebrity chef-owned, 5 star Vegas restaurant, or a $5.00 tamale out of the back of a mini-van, parked along the side of the road. (Shout out to Brenda, su tamales son deliciosos!) My ex totally won me over with food... he used to work the pantry station at the restaurant where I waitressed and he would constantly fry up "one too many shrimp" or "accidently" make an extra crab dip. On holidays, he would slip me lobster tails on the sly. It worked. He also prepared delicious treats for me at his house when he finally got me back there (which didn't take long after the lobster tails). Guys who subsist on nothing but chicken fingers and burgers, are not the guys for me. If for dinner, I suggest Indian, Thai or Japenese and I hear the words "Ew", "Yuck", or "Seriously?", that's a deal breaker. Because guess what? Later on, when I'm suggesting things elsewhere, I don't want the same response. I am a fan of the naked sushi scene in the first Sex and the City movie... I would absolutely do that, but only for someone I knew could appreciate it. I would also not hesitate to don a whipped cream bikini, ala Varsity Blues, because that just looks FUN. I have had some memorable adventures involving strawberries, popsicles and Nutella (thank you Europe for bringing us that tasty treat), and I look forward to a future filled with many more wonderful and delicious pairings... I just need to find a unique soul, with an equally adventurous palette.

Order up...

For those of you who have never worked in a restaurant, it may surprise you to learn they are one of the most sexually charged work environments on earth. It's no wonder, really. Restaurants are fast-paced, stressful and hot. You are working in very close proximity to a lot of people in a cramped space (kitchens are usually not very large or open). You are constantly bumping into and rubbing up against people. Typically, we work long, odd hours and tend to get off work when the only places still open are bars. The amount of alcohol consumed by a restaurant staff after a shift makes the 5:00 happy hour/cubicle crowd look like a bunch of Sunday school kids. Restaurants are also one of the only places where blatant sexual harassment is not only tolerated, but encouraged for the sake of everyone's sanity. I can't tell you how many times a night I get my ass slapped (usually by the other girls) or how often references are made to "special sauce" and the "pounding of meat", as well as the basic apron un-tying, ice-down-the-shirt flirting and constant sexual innuendo (in your endo.) So, it comes as no surprise to me how many people end up hooking up with co-workers. I am no stranger to this phenomenon myself. It's become evident over the years that I am powerless when it comes to a man in chef pants. I don't know what it is about them...maybe the black and white checkered pattern hypnotizes me. All I know is, if you put an already attractive guy in a pair of chef pants and a chef coat, I am pretty much toast. This obsession began for me at the ripe young age of 16, when I started my first ever waitressing job in a small, family diner in the town where I grew up. The night cook, "Bruce", was a complete red-neck and a bit of an asshole, yet every night after we closed, he would remove his shirt (health codes be damned) and begin cleaning the grill wearing nothing but his dirty chef pants. You could see every muscle in his back and arms constricting as he leaned far over the grill, scrubbing, back and forth, back and forth...sigh. I spent a lot of time in the freezer there, trying not to burst into flames--it was almost too much for my raging, 16 year old hormones to take. Then there was "Rob" at my next job. He was quiet and shy and had those dark, liquid coal eyes that seemed to look directly inside of me and reduce me to a puddle of my former self. He made such an impression, that he and his chef pants landed a starring role in the yet-to-be-submitted Penthouse forum letter I'd scripted called "Slow Night". I wonder what ever happened to him...?? I'm interested to know if offices/factories etc. have this sort of dynamic, since I've never worked in one long enough to see. Is there any serious "supply closet dry humping" happening? School me, people! And the next time you're sitting in a restaurant, take a look around and know that there's a good chance your server is tired, hungover and regretting having slept with the bartender the previous night...

I don't know if I Do, but I might...

In my soon-to-be 32 years of life, I've yet to have the "pleasure" of being a bridesmaid. I've managed to dodge this bullet so far, by a.) surrounding myself with perpetually single, like-minded people who refuse to settle, and b.) by living inconveniently far away from a lot of people I know. I have, however, attended numerous weddings in the last 10+ years. Some were beautiful and memorable, others I've been trying to forget ever since. (That actually sounds a lot like my dating history...) Regardless of who it is that's getting married, or how well I know them, you can be sure I will be doing 2 things during the ceremony: crying like a baby during the vows and silently judging their wedding planning skills while mentally picturing what my own wedding will include. (Plated dinners, cash bar and silk flowers have no place in my world... Champagne fountains, candlelight and all-night dancing, do.) This may come as a surprise to those who don't know me well, but I'm really not anti-marriage. In fact, you might even say I am a closet romantic. I adore the idea of soul-mates, I always have, but I'm also a realist. I'll be the first to admit that when a good friend of mine from high school decided to get married shortly after graduation, I was skeptical. Actually, I was flat-out against it. I thought it was a horrible idea to get married so young, before having experienced life. But now, 12 years later, they are still together, have two beautiful boys and are so in love it's ridiculous. When my little brother tied the knot 5 years ago, I was an absolute wreck. As he put it, "I'm surprised you were able to see the ceremony through your wall of tears". My family is still making fun of me to this day, but I was just so unbelievably happy for them! I was also in love at the time, which I've always likened to having an emotional open wound. When you're that blissfully happy and all those loving feelings are bubbling to the surface all the time, all your other emotions are bound to become uncontrollable as well. The one wedding that was a glaring exception to most others I've been to, occurred 3 years ago. It was a sweltering July evening in rural Pennsylvania. I, along with two close friends, had flown in to attend the wedding of our once good friend "T". He also happened to be an ex-boyfriend, as well as my "first love". During the ceremony, I recall my friend turning to me and asking if I was okay, as though she expected me to burst into tears at any second and throw myself across the alter, screaming "You should be marrying me!!" If it had been 10 years earlier, that would have been a distinct possibility, but that was no longer the case, I assure you. In fact, tears were the last thing I was choking back during that debacle. I've neglected to mention that in the years since high school, "T" had become a bit of a "religious zealot" (to put it nicely) or a "born-again Christian nut-job" (to put it honestly). When, in the middle of the ceremony, the minister began pontificating about the evils of gay marriage and how it's ruining the sanctity of traditional marriage, I thought the three of us were going to lose it. I turned to my friend at that point and asked if she felt like making out, but she declined. So, you can perhaps see why my emotions did not get the best of me in that instance, since I was expending a lot of energy trying not to throw up/laugh/walk out. The reception was not much better since it was both dry and music-free, which to my understanding, is the exact opposite of what receptions are supposed to be, but I digress. I'm certain my luck won't last forever. One of these years, my smart, beautiful, amazing girlfriends will start meeting guys who are worthy of them and my ill-fitting, odd-colored, satin dress-free existence will come to an end...I feel okay about that.

Let's be honest...

I received a 3 a.m. text from a good friend the other night, posing the question "Why do all guys think they are fantastic lovers, when most are merely adequate?" I did not have a good answer for her at the time, although since then, I've had time to ponder and ask around. Here are some of the theories I have come up with... My guess is that the number one culprit behind clueless guys thinking they are awesome, is "the girl who fakes orgasms". She is not a malicious girl, or someone who generally likes to deceive. More likely, she is non-confrontational, tired, or shy and doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. We've all been there... when he is trying so hard, but he just isn't getting it. Faking is the easy way out, but I am here to tell you, you are only hurting yourself and perpetuating the vicious cycle of guys thinking they've pleased their ladies and therefore never learning what it actually takes. I beg of you ladies to stop this! If it's not going to happen, tell him! If he is doing it all wrong, by all means tell him! My friend and I decided there are really only two ways guys become good lovers: 1.) If they have sex with an older, experienced woman when they are young, before any fancy, ineffective moves learned from porno's become part of their plan. 2.) If they are in a long-term relationship sometime during their late teens or early 20's. This is an especially good learning tool, since a lot of experimenting takes place when you're young and because practice makes perfect. If and when (usually when) those early long-term relationships end, you are primed and ready to rock someone else's world. Another problem my friends and I have come across, is simple misrepresentation. Nothing is more irritating than being given the impression a guy is going to throw me up against a wall, but in reality he is totally submissive. Don't put it out there if you can't deliver. And for God's sake, don't exaggerate when eluding to size... we're not blind and we've all seen a ruler. Conversely, it can be a very pleasant surprise when someone is quiet and shy and you're not sure what to expect and they turn out to be incredible. I guess it's all part of the mystery and excitement of dating. But, I think we would all be better off being a little more open and honest. Life is too short for mediocre sex, and I for one, shall put up with it no longer.

I like your style...or your complete lack thereof.

I am not what you would consider a "fashionista". I like to think I have my own unique style and a pretty good grasp on what I can pull off and what I can't. I appreciate fashion, don't get me wrong... When I see a cute little 20-something chickadee strutting down the street in 3-inch platform-heeled strappy sandals, I think "Good for you!", knowing full well I would fall flat on my face if I attempted such a look. When it comes to guys and their style, I am all over the place and so are my friends. Generally, I prefer a pretty simple "guy" look. I don't care for hipsters. If you are a dude and you are walking my way in skinny jeans, you should probably keep walking. Same goes for hippies... they are nice to look at because often they are tan and in good shape, but have you ever tried running your fingers through dreadlocks? Besides, the time it takes to wash the patchouli stink out of your sheets afterward just isn't worth it. Try telling that to a girlfriend of mine, though. For her, the dirtier, the better. She likes guys with messy hair, giant holes in their ears and clothes straight out of the $1 bin at Goodwill. Another friend recently admitted to me that she still has a soft spot for certain 80's styles. Specifically, she cited a crush she had a few years back, on someone who still feathered his hair and wore high-top sneakers. I didn't mention it at the time, but I wondered how she and my ex never got together, since he proudly wore skin-tight, white denim jeans and a 'Member's Only' jacket, well into the new millennium. But wait, there's more... he also had a fine collection of those black T-shirts with various animals/lightening bolts/woodland scenery on them, popular throughout trailer parks across the U.S. How did I end up with that dude? I like to blame youth and copious amounts of alcohol. When my friends and I were in our late teens/early 20's, we sat down one night and made lists of all the things we wanted in a guy. They were pretty superficial lists, because at the time, we were pretty superficial. However, the one thing all our lists had in common was "Must wear good shoes". We had a serious issue with guys wearing ugly or dorky shoes and although my priorities have changed quite a lot over the years, that is still one of the first things I notice! I think what it comes down to is that everyone has their own style. Some are weirder than others, but honestly, if I am attracted to you and you can make me laugh, I will probably disregard the fact that you're wearing a hockey jersey. Because let's face it... if we end up together, I'm going to take him shopping for new clothes anyway. That's what girls do, and guys allow it because they want to have sex and that's just not going to happen if they're wearing the same torn boxer shorts they've had since high school.

Maybe fading away is the better option?

I am getting older every day. There is no stopping it and it's happening to everyone. This knowledge doesn't usually bother me...I fully intend to enjoy each year as it comes. Plus, I don't really feel my age and I know a lot of other people who feel quite a bit younger than they are as well. 

However, there are things I see happening around me that make me pine for my youth in a bad way. A prime example? Stars that were once crazy-hot and making great movies, who are now not only visibly aging, but also fat and "starring" in really bad movies. 

Val Kilmer, what the hell happened to you? You played Jim fucking Morrison so convincingly, it was hard to believe you weren't one in the same. And Iceman? I wanted to be your wingman. Actually, I just wanted to watch you play beach volleyball some more. But now... sigh. 

John Travolta? I'm not old enough to have fully appreciated you in 'Saturday Night Fever' and I wouldn't say I ever found you that attractive, but coolness-wise, there is no beating Vincent Vega in 'Pulp Fiction'. (A shout out to all those who still order a 'Royale with cheese' at McDonalds) But now... 'Old Dogs'? Really? 

I understand as people grow older and start families, their priorities change and they start focusing on more 'family-friendly' projects. But, you can make family movies that don't suck! Take 'Alvin and the Chipmunks'... I've been staying with a friend of mine and her 10-year old son for the last month, so I've seen this movie about 147 times.  Jason Lee, who I grew to love via Kevin Smith movies in the 90's, is the star of this movie and not only is it pretty funny, but he still looks like he did when he was 20! I like that. 

 I say once your looks start to fail you and you become virtually unrecognizable to your original fan base, maybe you should go buy a house in the country and get a hobby instead of making futile attempts to reclaim your former glory. This goes double for you, Rolling Stones! Seriously, you guys are like, 70. Nobody wants to see you shaking your old-man asses across the stage anymore. It's gross. And you can't hit those notes anymore either, so really, what's the point? Buy some comfy slippers and a reclining chair and commence to yelling at kids to stay off your lawn. Please.

Turn the page...

Throughout life, people are often given oppurtunities. Sometimes an inheritence or settlement of some sort will allow someone to pack up and travel someplace they've always wanted to go. Sometimes a job-loss, complete with a cashed-out 401K, can provide the perfect circumstance for a mid-life-crisis-style journey. And sometimes, as in my case, you are given the gift of homelessness, coupled with indecision about life and career, an insatiable wanderlust, and enough gas money to get through at least 5 states before turning tricks at a truckstop becomes a very real possibility. So I find myself hitting the road, searching for new places, new experiences and hopefully, some clarity. I think it is really amusing to hear others' ideas about what this trip is going to be for me. The most humerous idea being that I will meet some handsome, Kerouac-esque stranger while on the road and have a torrid affair. Considering that for the first week and a half I was traveling, I didn't comb my hair or apply makeup and I started most days with a baby-wipe whore-bath and a swish of listerine, I didn't exactly notice many fellas looking my way. Plus, I sort of need a break anyway. Boys have been making my head hurt more than usual lately. It's a scientific fact that when someone who is slightly interested in you thinks they aren't going to see you for a long time, they immediately want to have sex with you. I experienced this to an eery degree 10 years ago when I announced I was moving to Colorado. I had ex-boyfriends and old crushes coming out of the freaking woodwork for "one last fling". Same thing before I left on this trip, even though I made it clear I'd be back in a month. Maybe full moon had something to do with it? Bizarre. Another thing people assume is that since I'm stopping in Pennsylvania (where I grew up) to visit family and friends, that I'm going to spontaneously decide I want to give up everything I have in Colorado and move back to my hometown. Clearly these people have never been to my hometown. I won't lie... being back in Pa brings out a weird nostalgic longing in me that I'm not exactly sure what to do with. I've even indulged in some random, stream-of-consciousness daydreams about running into someone from high school who I didn't really know, but who I always thought was cute, and we would fall in love and I'd move into his farmhouse and pop out a bunch of babies and we'd go to church on Sundays, then maybe to lunch at his parents' house and I would join the ladies auxillary and help organize craft shows and firehall BBQ's. Is this what I want? Not particularly, but this is what being in Pa does to my brain. I think there is something in the air there (besides the ever-present smell of manure). So, I will continue being a soul-searching hippy for the moment and when I return home in a few weeks, I will attempt to be a grown-up and make better decisions. Although, as the facebook page I recently became a 'fan' of says: "Bad decisions make funny stories". And life is all about the stories...

Thank you, I'd LOVE another Lemon drop...

It is no secret among those who know me, that I make incredibly poor decisions when I have been drinking. Granted, this could be said about most people, but I am talking seriously ridiculous decisions. However, in my defense, the circumstances I often find myself in that lead to these poor decisions are absurd and in no way my fault. Back in December, there was a particular night where I found myself hanging out at my house with some friends, as well as a guy I had been on a date or two with, and another guy who I'd been trying to hook up with for awhile. How did they both end up there? Crazy, random happenstance. Neither of the guys knew anything about the other and at one point, I found myself sitting next to one on the couch while the other sent me inappropriate texts from across the room. On what planet does this happen? So, while I should have simply gone to bed, I instead drank more wine and made out with the nearest one. Bad decision. That is why I've decided my friend "J" is officially the boss of me when we go out, from this point on. Her duties include, but aren't limited to: taking my cell phone away from me after I've had my 2nd drink; making sure all young, attractive military guys are kept at least 50 yards away from me at all times; and putting me in a cab when I start saying "Seriously you guys, I'm totally (hiccup) okay to drive!" My good friend from back home was my "Watcher" for years. She believed in tough love and was never afraid to bitch slap the beer goggles right off my face to stop me from doing things I would most definitely regret by the light of day. Now that we live in different states, we must rely on the occasional- "Tell me why this is a bad idea"- text. Of course, we're always there to talk each other down out of the crazy tree after we've done something stupid, too. That is what friends do and I have the most amazing friends in the world.

#1 Crush...

I, like many people, have limited days off to take care of a seemingly endless amount of chores and errand running. Often, there are numerous other things I would rather be doing than, say, getting groceries. However, this is why it helps to set up a few secret crushes around town... to motivate and inspire. As it stands right now, I am nursing about 8 different crushes. There's the sexy, kind- of-thuggish-looking manager at the grocery store; the super-cute, hippy, supplement guy at the natural food store; the hot, butch, tattooed girl at the oil change place... This doesn't even include all the people at work I have crushes on. Complications do arise though, especially if I let myself think too much. For example, I sometimes seek help from the cute supplement guy, even when I don't need it, which is fairly harmless. However, there are also times when I have had legitimate questions that I was suddenly very self-conscious about asking. "Can you suggest a good pro-biotic to help my digestive track?" "What's your favorite colon cleanse?" I am certain he receives these sorts of questions on a daily basis, but the last thing I want is for him to think about me pooping!! I also have a bad habit of stalking people. Not in a psycho, bunny-boiling way, just in a healthy, oh-that's-what-kind-of-car-you-drive, sort of way. It's a throwback to high school, when my friends and I would stalk each others' crushes until we had their entire class schedules memorized. Then, we could "accidently" run into them: "Oh, I didn't know you were in this class... want to walk to the library together?" We were diabolical in our plotting. Nowadays, I just have to be careful not to reveal information that I have no business knowing. The other day, while making small talk with Cutie at the register, he mentioned how cold it had been earlier that morning and how he hadn't wanted to leave his house and come to work. 'Right', I thought 'Because you ride your bike to work'. Thankfully, I stopped myself from blurting that out, thereby keeping my crush and my questionable knowledge of him, a secret for now.

I think the horse is dead... could you stop beating it please?

For some reason, people seem to find it strange that my ex and I still speak and are on good terms. He and I broke up over a year ago and although it was heart-breaking at the time, as most break-ups are, at this point I think it's become obvious that we get along better now than we ever did when we were together. I think it's because in hindsight, we should have never tried to be more than friends (possibly with benefits) in the first damn place. Our personalities are just way too different for us to have lasted. He still makes me laugh like crazy, though, and he is a genuinely good, kind-hearted person. Even though we're not together (and shouldn't be) I can't imagine him not being a part of my life. What I'm trying to get at here, is I don't understand couples that break up and get back together every other month or so. I have witnessed this over and over and it confounds me. Let's say you break up with someone because they're an alcoholic. They've been boozing it up every night, acting like an asshole, spending all their money at the bar and can't even get it up when they finally get home. You're sick of it. You kick them to the curb and yet a few weeks later, they come to you all doe-eyed and weepy with the "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me" and "I can change" schtick. So, what? You take them back because you're lonely, you miss them and you want to believe people can change. Well, people CAN change, but only if they are doing it for themselves and they truly want to. Oh, and it doesn't usually happen over the course of two weeks. When it's wrong, it's wrong and I believe that 9 times out of 10, people are fully aware that it's wrong, but don't want to admit it to themselves or the other person because the alternative is being alone. Well, maybe that's exactly what is needed. You might actually figure out what you want out of life! You might have fun and learn things about yourself, like what makes you happy! You might even end up not hating or resenting the other person! I fucking love being single at the moment and here is why:

1.) I can eat all the chunks of cookie dough out of the ice cream without anyone getting annoyed at me.

2.) I can sleep in whatever weird, spread-out, yoga-pose position I want to.

3.) I don't have to pretend to be interested in some sport/comic-book character/underground band that I could not possibly care less about.

4.) I can waste a perfectly good day watching 5 hours of Buffy on DVD without anybody busting my balls.

I am passionate about this because I know so many people (myself included) that go against their gut instinct whenever emotions or love are involved. I have definitely been guilty of talking myself into things, even though my gut was telling me it wasn't right. There were times I rationalized things and made excuses and tried to convince everyone around me that things were perfect in a vain attempt to simultaneously convince myself. I have also stayed in relationships much longer than I should have because I was scared of the alternative. I have since vowed never to lie to myself again and if that means I'm alone for awhile, so be it. Besides, I have some like-minded girlfriends and we have plans to kick it 'Golden Girls' style down in Florida in 30 years, so I'm set regardless.

Think about this....

One of the things I've come to realize about myself, is that I am a hunter. I am the quintessential "want-what-I-can't-have-and-lose-interest-once-I-get-it" type. Not always, but often. It's one of the main reasons I enjoy my very active imagination so much. No one gets hurt, or bored, or screwed over when things take place in my crazy little noggin'. Plus, I am rarely disappointed by my fantasies, which is unfortunately not true about my realities at times. Take, for example, the ridiculously hot, married cook I work with, whose mere presence has the same euphoric, mood-elevating effect on me as any drug I've ever heard of. Now, because he is married, nothing is going to happen between us. It would be wrong and it would be a disaster. Does that stop me from concocting very elaborate "dry-storage room" and "walk-in freezer" scenarios involving olive oil and/or whipped cream? No, because it's harmless and it keeps a smile on my face for much of the day. I never understand when people say they're bored... I rarely run out of things with which to keep myself amused. Next time you're stuck in a waiting room, whether it be at the doctor's office or at the courthouse awaiting jury duty, look around and observe people. Play the "who would I have sex with if the zombie apocalypse occurs while I'm in here?" game. My friend who travels extensively, plays a similar "who would I have sex with if this plane crashed on a deserted island?" game, while sitting in airports. If sex is not on your mind constantly, you can always change it up and figure out who you would kill and eat first, or better yet, who you think the zombies would kill and eat first. It certainly helps pass the time. Although, it may also be one of the reasons I'm not very good at making new friends in "real life"...because I'm so often in my own world and it's fun there and I'd don't like to be interrupted.

Seriously?

Okay. Here is what I am sick of... Chics that give gals like me and my friends a bad name by acting all crazy/possessive/psycho/passive-aggressive. I would say that 99% of the girls I am friends with are super confident, self-aware ladies that don't want any drama or bullshit in their lives, especially from guys. Ironically enough, guys are always saying "I don't want any drama, blah, blah, blah..." Yet, almost every guy I know is currently either putting up with bullshit girlfriend insecurities, or worse, they are acting like an insecure little girl themselves, by staying in bad relationships just because the girl is "nice" or "sweet". If I hear this excuse one more time, I am going to scream! Someone can be "nice and sweet" all day long, but that doesn't make them right for you! Fucking grow a pair and do what makes YOU happy, instead of staying in ridiculous relationships that are going nowhere, just because you're too much of a pussy to end it when you know it's not right! Movies and T.V. would have us all believe that guys are the macho, womanizing, commitment-phobic types that "can't be tied down". Well, in my experience, things are the exact opposite. For years, my friends and I have been dealing with dudes who want to move in after the second date, are unbelievably jealous, and who cry waaaaaayyyy too much. I don't understand why people can't just hang out and have fun? I sometimes feel like my world is a virtual wasteland of smart, good-looking, funny men who have issues I want nothing to do with. They're either married/girl-friended, an alcoholic, or are my boss. None of them seem particularly happy with where they are or who they are with and sometimes hint, or blatantly say, they'd rather be with me... Well, fuck that. If you want me, you can leave your girlfriend/wife and come get me, but I really hope you don't because I'd probably just sleep with you and then never call. Apparently, I am more of a guy than most guys out there.

I am smelling like a rose...

I love the way people smell...men especially. My first love, self-proclaimed his scent as "Polo cologne, spearmint gum and manliness". He was a trip. I'm not talking about cologne though, since most dudes wear entirely too much of it anyway. I am talking about that musky, been-through-a-day-of-the-elements, natural man scent. Catch me in the right mood and put a sweaty man nearby... I am toast. I think everyone knows a little bit about pheromones, but recently I learned something that I find unbelievably fascinating. According to scientists, women are actually capable of 'sniffing out' men with different genetic codes than their own. The logic is that we women innately seek a mate with opposite genetics so that we can produce children with immunities to a larger number of things. This intrigues me on so many levels. First of all, it explains why some people (myself included) seemingly have no "type" when it comes to choosing a partner. Now, those that know me would say "Um, Jess...you like Spanish guys and dudes with pony tails who are in bands." On the surface, this is true. However, the people I've had relationships with have been super random, and if you factor in this smell thing, it starts to make sense. Your base instincts can tell you who you should reproduce with, but that doesn't mean you are in any other way compatible with that person. You've got to use your head! I have been obsessed with the olfactory sense forever; it's such a powerful memory trigger! When I was 16, I had a relationship with a guy who I typically only saw on the weekends since he lived in another town and we went to different schools. We were both pretty goth and scrubby at the time, and I'm pretty sure he didn't wash his hair very often. I adored the way he smelled and in an effort to simulate it during the week when I couldn't see him, I began going 2, 3, 4, days without washing my own hair. (I wonder if he is laughing right now, since I know he reads this blog and I don't think I've ever revealed this information before...) I have also wondered if our innate senses can be confused, simply by diversity. When I met my ex, I was instantly attracted to him. He smelled like coffee, cloves and nag chamba incense, which was a magical combination and a welcome change from the stale beer and cigarette smell I'd become accustomed to in my previous relationship. So, were my instincts confused, simply because he was so different? And when you become attached to someone's scent, it stays with you forever. I am 99.9% percent over my ex, yet we had lunch together the other day and while sitting on the patio of the restaurant, the wind shifted and I caught a whiff of him. Suddenly, my brain was transported back 3 years and we were watching a movie together on the couch while I snuggled in the crook of his arm and breathed him in. It threw me for a loop, but I said nothing. I mean, just because we'd evidently make 'super babies' that are immune to everything, doesn't mean we're meant to be. I might start asking potential suitors for a DNA sample, just to save myself the stress of wondering...and if a fella should find it strange that I want to swab the inside of his cheek on our second date, then maybe he's not the fella for me.

SWF seeks DDFS/W/H/B/M for NSA fun...

Okay, I admit it. Sometimes when I'm bored, or need a good laugh, I peruse the personal ads on Craigslist. My favorite is the "missed connections" site. If you're unfamiliar with this, allow me to school you. Have you ever made eye contact with an attractive person in another car while stopped at a red light? Perhaps you exchange smiles or a wink. But, before you know it, the light has changed and you must continue driving. 'Damnit' you think... that could have been my soul-mate and now he's gone. Enter: Craigslist Missed Connections. Simply sit your ass down at the computer and type up a little something like...

Looking for my red light Prince Charming

You were in a dented, primer gray Ford Festiva

I only saw you for a second, but I felt a real connection

Respond with what kind of car I was driving so I know it's you.

I have read many that are equal parts 'romantic comedy plot' and 'restraining order waiting to happen'. The sheer volume of men who are searching for a lady they met in Walmart, is staggering. Then there are what I like to call the "morning after" posts. People that post on Saturday and Sunday mornings, trying to find the person they made out with at the club the previous night. Really? If they showed up for breakfast, would you even recognize them? I know I wouldn't.

I have nothing against using the internet to try to meet someone. I have friends on E-Harmony and Match.com and I actually know a few couples that met that way. Good for them, it's just not my bag. For one thing, it's too easy for me to completely discount people based on their abhorrent spelling and grammar. (So many men are "looking four a women to steel there hart") Secondly, when dudes try to take a picture of themselves to post with their ads, they always end up looking like serial killers. In the few months since starting this amusing pastime, I have read maybe three ads I would ever consider responding to, and it's because they made me laugh out loud. This is one I found the other day:

I am a normal person. I hang from trees. I teach school.

I am decent looking and not fat.

Real persons only. Women w/o penises only.

U wanna talk, subject line must mention something about toes.

I could get on board with this guy. It's also bizarre how many people just want someone to come over and cuddle with them, or watch a movie and snuggle on the couch. I have these people pegged as having just come out of a long-term relationship where those things were standard. Now, they don't necessarily want to go out on dates or have random hook-ups, but they desperately miss the day-to-day closeness of a relationship. I get that. There aren't many things I miss about my ex, but snuggling is one. If I ever place a personal ad, it will probably read something like:

SWF seeking M 'Teddy Bear' type to snuggle with for about 1/2 hour every night, after which time you must leave so I can roll over and get a decent night's sleep.

Must be non-smoker/non-snorer/non-gross

Heavy breathers with cold feet need not respond.

I swear, she didn't mean anything to me!

Here is a precious little gem a friend shared with me at the bar the other night: "Rings don't plug holes". Poetic, I know. He was, of course, referring to wedding rings and I will let you fill in the rest. It's not shocking to know that this friend has cheated on his girlfriend repeatedly. I've always had a little trouble understanding people who cheat on their significant others. If you want to sleep around, then why are you even in a relationship? Some people I know, choose to fool around but not actually have sex. Apparently this alleviates some of the guilt and they don't truly think they are cheating. Well, as my very wise girlfriend likes to say "In for a naked penny, in for a naked pound". I realize maybe I'm over simplifying things, but seriously? Why can't people figure out what they want and stick with it? I am not in a relationship right now because I have no business being in one. I think a lot of people just want a sweet slice of booty cake and they want to eat it too. I also think some people have no idea what they want, so they 'do' whatever comes along. Then there are those who I believe are borderline sociopaths. I have a friend who recently got out of a very bad situation with someone like this. The future he had dreamed up for the two of them seemed so enticing and real, that when he ultimately decided to stay with his wife, she was blind-sided. Now, she knows she never should have become involved with him in the first place, but it happened. It happens. I have personally found myself in the "mistress" role more than once, both knowingly (and guiltily) and accidently. Yes, believe it or not, people lie! Not only do they lie to their partners about cheating, but they lie to the person their cheating with about having a partner. I learned this the ridiculous way, when after a few weeks of innuendo-laced texting with a co-worker, we finally got together one night. After a couple days, I sent him a facebook message asking what was up and eluding to the night we had spent together. An hour later I received a message back from his GIRLFRIEND, asking me what the f*ck was going on. Fun! I apparently have a knack for stumbling ass-backwards into drama. All I know, is when I've been in committed relationships in the past, I have never been tempted to cheat. Relationships are a lot of work to begin with but you throw in a little something on the side that is both stressful and time-consuming? Really, who has that kind of energy?

On the prowl...

According to the extensive research I have done on the topic, a woman isn't considered a 'cougar' until she is over 40, at which point the 'cougar math' goes as follows: take your age, divide it by 2 and add 7. The result is the maximum age of your 'prey'. So, if you just turned 40, and you're dating someone 27 or younger, you are officially a coug. I like this consensus. It means I've got quite a few years before I need to start shopping for leopard print body suits and satin bath robes. Not that I won't relish every second when I do get there. I am all about living in the moment and enjoying what you have. You couldn't pay me to be 18 again, especially when I remember how freaking naive I was. I work with a lot of teenagers at the restaurant and they are so precious in their stupidity. And so adorable... one of the bus boys, who can't be more than 17, looks like a young John Cusack. I would tell him, but I'm guessing his response would be a blank stare at best. (Sidenote: if you want to really freak yourself out, find an old picture of yourself from high school and take a good look. I found my senior picture the other day and I literally look like an infant.) Currently, I'm told I am a gal who's 'in her prime'. This pleases me. I plan to soak up and enjoy every minute of my prime and when I'm past it, I will embrace cougardom with equal enthusiasm. I must say, what I am really looking forward to is when I'm in my 60's. I plan on having a short, sassy hair do' and a dresser full of brightly colored pant- suits and sequined, kitty-cat sweatshirts. I will take power walks and join league bowling. I will also have a gentleman friend to go on cruises with and when I tire of his company, I will take a much younger lover. It is going to be fantastic.

What are your qualifications?

I have never been the type of gal that needs to be in a relationship in order to have sex. This is not to say that I run around having sex with random strangers either. I do, however, believe that if you find someone you have chemistry with, but know for a fact any actual "relationship" would be a disaster due to different lifestyles, ideas etc., why not develop a 'friends with benefits' situation? It's hurting no one as long as both parties agree on the terms. The problem is, it's kind of difficult to find a really good fuck buddy. It takes time, patience and research. I propose that there be a formal application process, complete with an extensive one-on-one interview, before any clothing is removed. Questions would vary greatly depending on who was conducting the interview, of course, but some of mine would include:

• Are you a diseased whore?
• Have you given women orgasms in the past?
• Are you sure?
• Are you prone to mistaking sexual intimacy with love?
• If you were to "work for this company", would you be willing to "travel downtown" regularly?
• How much weight can you lift and are you capable of tying a decent knot?
• May I contact your references?

Because honestly, the whole point of this type of situation is that it's no-fuss, no-muss. Who has time to beat around the bush? (Pun very much intended) I have more than one friend who has had relationships like these. One of them should never try. She inevitably falls in love and ends up getting hurt, and that is where the entire system breaks down. The other is so skilled in her man juggling, she should really write a book. The only problems that ever arise for her, as far as I can tell, is she gets bored with/tired of/annoyed by them eventually. I am still searching for a good one. Since I'm currently in a very non-relationship-ey state of mind, it's perplexing to deal with people who ask me out on dates. Take, for example, the bartender at work that I have a crush on. If he were to ask me out, I would have to respond with: "Sorry, no. See, I sort of like you, so if we went out and really hit it off, things would progress and I don't want progression. Conversely, if we went out and it went badly, then things would be weird between us at work. Perhaps we could just have sex? Hold on, I have an application in my purse..."

El es dulce para mis ojos.

My spanish speaking friend has informed me that the things I want to say in Spanish, don't really translate. I say "porque no?" If I want to say someone is "candy for my eyes", I will. Believe me, there is plenty of "dulce para mis ojos" at my current waitressing job, in the form of an all Mexican kitchen staff. I have been drawn to latino men for years. I'm not sure exactly when it began, and as my friends back home like to say, "No one expected the Spanish Inquisition". There's just something about their smooth, dark skin...and the eyes!! The dark, penetrating eyes! There is one cook imparticular who can practically set my skin on fire with a single look. It feels as though his gaze is piercing my soul, and I am reduced to a giggling, blushing school girl around him as a result. To make matters worse, he knows full well how nervous he makes me and therefore takes every opportunity possible to tease me. Oh, and have I mentioned he is married? This is actually a good thing, because flirting is harmless and if he were available, I would no doubt be making some very questionable decisions right now. Besides, I am fairly certain the fantasy world I've created in my head could never be topped by reality, so it's best if don't let myself be disappointed. Gracias chicos, for giving a girl a reason to enjoy an otherwise lackluster work environment. Hasta manana.

Love, or something like it.

I am not saying there is anything wrong with love. I love being in love! Waking up next to someone with whom you feel so connected to. Gazing at them as they sleep so peacefully. Wanting to spend every waking moment with them because it physically hurts when they are not near you. It's grand. I've been in love many times and each person was so special to me and to that particular point in my life, that I will continue to feel love for them until the day I die. It does not mean, however, that I was necessarily 'meant to be' with any one of them. I also don't recall ever actively looking for love. It always just happened and that's the way I think it should be. The way I see it, falling in love is the easy part... it's compatibility and compromise that I struggle with, because so many people annoy the piss out of me and I don't care for compromising. In fact, at this point, most of my friends and I have constructed some sort of 'list of traits' we are looking for in a potential partner. Some are preferences that can be easily disregarded if the person is wonderful in other ways. Others are deal-breakers. My list currently includes 38 items. For example:

22.) Must like to dance. That is negotiable, not everyone can boogie.

3.) Must have car and valid driver's license. Non-negotiable. I spent too many years driving people around. You're a functioning adult, you should have a freaking car.

25.) Must be able to spell. Negotiable--I realize it's a personal pet peeve.

15.) Must "get" me and my sense of humor. An ABSOLUTE must! If I am cracking jokes and he is staring at me as though I've grown a third ear, he's out the door. I am a freaking riot, and if you want to spend your life with me, you need to recognize!

Now, I realize that by making my list, I've inevitably jinxed myself and will end up falling head over ass in love with someone the exact opposite of what I think I want....that's what makes this so fun!

Sex and the City of Colorado Springs

I moved to Colorado Springs 10 years ago, as an impressionable young 20-something looking for adventure, love and pretty much anything different from the small farming town I'd grown up in back east. I've since, had some adventures. I've had quite a bit of fun. I've also found love more than once, but after spending the majority of my 20's in 2 separate relationships that ultimately didn't work out, I realized I was ready to spend some time outside of "relationship land" and start living MY life. My most recent relationship of 4 1/2 years, ended last January after I finally came to terms with the fact that we just weren't right for each other and I had been trying to force things into place for years. After the obligatory 3 months or so of heartache, I started spending more time with my girlfriends whom I'd lost touch with. I started going out more. I started dating, even though I knew I didn't want anything serious to come from any of the dates, it was still nice to see another side of things. 2009 ended up being one of the greatest years of my life, all because I was honest with myself about what I wanted and I began saying "yes" to all the fun things life was throwing my way.

I am an aspiring writer (among other things), who works in a restaurant, wears $20 shoes and who doesn't drink Cosmos. I think spending a month's salary on a designer outfit is just about the dumbest thing anyone could do. But I have girlfriends that I love dearly. And we drink. And we date men. And we have sex. And sometimes we get into really fucked up situations that, in hindsight, are hysterical. These are the things I intend to share and also (hopefully) some nuggets of wisdom I learn along the way....