Snakes On a Plane (Bring It)

I have a plan.  My plan is simple yet effective and, although it's been suggested, does not involve prostitution--even though that might actually be my best option.  You get paid to have sex.  Sounds easy to me.  I suffered through years of sex with my ex-husband that I didn't get paid for.  In my opinion prostitution would have been a step up.  In fact I should just consider his huge child support checks as my back-pay and call it good.

My plan has 3 steps.  The first step is to lay the foundation.  I need a little boost.  I need to know that there are some guys out there desperate enough to want to date me.  And where better to find desperate guys than CL?  Please bear in mind...I am not looking for dates during this step.  I just want to know that I am wanted by some guys...no matter how gross or creepy (and yes, this speaks volumes about my own desperation at this time--there is no need to point and laugh).  Once I am no longer plagued with self loathing I will move on to step #2.

Here is my CL ad:

I'm not going to lie. Posting on CL is not my first choice when it comes to meeting men...so in the spirit of full disclosure, if we do wind up meeting I will never admit to anyone that we met on craigslist--please don't fight me on this one.

Here's the deal. I am divorced. As it turns out getting married at 19 doesn't always turn out quite as well as you thought it would while you were drunk in Vegas saying " I do." I consider that a lesson learned and will make every effort to be sober next time I tie the knot. I also have kids. Two of them. They are both at least halfway to 18 which means they are pretty much on "cruise control" now. I figure I parented them well enough during the early years that reality TV and video games can now put the finishing touches on them and get them ready for the real world. So other than the birthing videos that I might make you watch (to scare you into NOT impregnating me) you probably won't even know I have kids.

I don't want to get your hopes up or anything but other than being damaged goods with some carry-on baggage I am sort of awesome (this is my ad and I can write whatever I want to). I was an ugly duckling up until my 20's--which means I was forced to develop a personality because I couldn't rely on my looks to carry me through life. Luckily things changed for the better when I stopped getting perms and wearing clothes my mom made for me. Getting my braces off and plucking my eyebrows probably helped a little too.

If you think we might hit it off please feel free to send me an email...or contact CPS directly to file your complaint about my parenting skills. Either way, have a great day.

Game on.  Bring it!

Throw It In The Bag

I found myself doing something unthinkable when I dropped the kids off at school today.  I mentally undressed their principal.  I am pretty sure that this is something the PTA would not encourage...thank heaven I saved the $7 and didn't join this year.  I think that makes him fair game.  If he's going to stand out there in dockers and a Northface vest then he's got to understand that he's setting himself up to be objectified by moms (at least the single ones that couldn't get a date if their life depended on it.)  This is a new low.  Even for me.

There is really only one option here.  I have GOT to get myself a date.  Not only will it help me put Vegas Boy behind me once and for all (maybe) but since I already suck at dating I doubt things are going to get any better if I sit on my ass for 8 months while my ex is deployed.  But I have absolutely no prospects.  No friends to set me up...no guys to at work to flirt with...nothing at all.  Okay then....throw it in the bag bitches...I am getting back on the internet!

Tik Tok

Since I have an extremely long (and consistent) history of not being able to find myself a decent guy....my mom has volunteered to be my wing man.  I think this is her way of trying to make up for dressing me like Helen Keller when I was a kid.  I am almost certain that nothing could be more embarrassing than having your own mother pimp you out on a cruise ship.  But honestly I will take whatever help I can get at this point, after all, my dignity is already gone--I handed that over to Vegas Boy.  Not protesting at my mother's offer to find me a man is confirmation that I have reached the gates of dating purgatory and they are WIDE open.  I am in hell.

Long story short:  shockingly enough--Mom hooked me up!  Cruise Boy was very good looking, well within my age range, and all things considered (there has GOT to be something wrong with a 30 year old man working on a cruise ship) was a pretty good catch.  We chatted, flirted, laughed, and had a great time.  He kept my mind far from Vegas Boy during the rest of the cruise.  Unfortunately, he also made me realize that as much as I joke about my pathetic dating life I really do want to find someone....although preferably not someone who has graduated from Carnival Cruise Lines University with a BA in hosting Family Feud.  It's been 4+ years since my divorce...shouldn't I have had a serious relationship by now?  Every tic of the clock reminds me that I am alone...completely and utterly alone.  Tik tok.  Tik tok.  I need to do something about this or just shut the fuck up already.

I'm On A Boat

I am back from the cruise and it was GREAT!  If any of you have had the pleasure of seeing how much food I can cram down my gullet (it is truly a sight to behold!) then you would know that cruising is right up my alley.  Endless food 24/7.  It was heaven on earth for me.  But obviously no one is here reading my blog hoping I will tell you all about my meals and snacks.  No.  You want the good stuff.  Well, lets just get one thing out of the way right now--there are 2 types of people that go on cruises:  families and lesbians.  I have never been visually accosted by so many carpet munchers in my entire frigging life.  No offense to the gay community or anything...but if you look like Rosie O'Donnell please do not undress me with your eyes--you are nasty and gross and even in my deepest, darkest hour of desperation I will not be switching teams--especially not for you.  Move along please.

There was one hot guy in my immediate vicinity my first day out by the pool.  He had a nice body, a great tan, and was pretty darn cute.  I almost immediately began to have impure thoughts about him.  He walked by me (which was a little out of his way) much more often than necessary...we made eye contact...we smiled...we were both obviously checking each other out.  When I saw him later at lunch with his little sister and parents I excused myself to go take a shower (and NO, not to do THAT!).  Holyfuck!  I am practically a pedophile on the fast track to a prison sentence.  This is not good.  I'm on a boat with boys that aren't legal...and dads that have absolutely no business taking their shirts off in public.  I'm going to need some liquor.  Lots and lots of liquor.

But all hope is not lost.  I have realized a huge error in my way of thinking...I have been looking at the wrong people--the passengers are not my man candy.  The hot young LEGAL guys are the ones that WORK on the boat!  My mind flashes to Dirty Dancing.  This is going to be awesome.  I am Baby in search of my Johnny.  I can hear the theme song right now.  It's time to go slumming!

Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

I'm not going to do it.  As much as I believe I have an inner ho-bag trapped deep inside of me it just isn't going to happen.  I am not going to "date" a 23 year old.  I don't particularly find enjoyment in beating my head against a wall which is what this would equate to.  Except this wall has the possibility of giving me the clap or the herp or whatever else might cause burning and itching and general unpleasantness.  I just can't justify sleeping with someone just to sleep with them.  I feel the need to guard my vajayjay against harmful things in my quest for a man--lets face it, my divorce and kids are baggage enough.  I really don't need an STD raining on my parade of awesomeness.

The cruise is fast approaching and I am pretty sure that after being gone for a week it won't be hard to phase out Smoking Hot Body Boy.  With any luck he will fade away without a fight.  I am a pussy when it comes to being blunt with people--yet another glaring reminder of my social retardation.  I am really amazed I have made it this far in life without being heavily medicated...although maybe that would help.  I still find myself thinking about Vegas Boy way more than I should and how I wish I could have a do-over.  Thanks for the memories...thanks for the memories...

Not Myself Tonight

I met a boy.  And by "met" I mean I made out with him.  And by "boy" I mean that he's only 23.  My friend and I had another girl's night out....a mucho successful girl's night out!  I am batting a thousand at one particular joint downtown and it is quickly becoming my "go to" place when I need a self-esteem boost.  Fact:  this boy had one of the most smoking hot bodies I have ever had the pleasure of being pressed up against.  All I can say is DAMN!  I am not usually one to paw at a guy I barely know but in this situation I found out that my self-control is less than stellar.  And after I caught a glimpse of his abs I was pretty much drooling on myself...clearly a quality that all men seek in a woman.

I am not sure what it is about me that the young ones like.  I can only hope they don't have some sort of radar that senses desperation and therefore gravitate towards me like a fat kid to a cupcake.  I honestly try as hard as possible to hide my desperation and will be eternally crushed to find out that men have a 6th sense about it.  If that's the case I really have no hopes of landing another husband--time is NOT on my side (I am aging about as well as a piece of beef jerky).  I might as well face the facts and go get a couple cats after work today.  So anyway...Smoking Hot Body Boy was super sweet.  He asked for my phone number...sent me a text about 5 minutes later...and has been texting me regularly the past several days.  He really wants to see me again...which I assume means he really wants to have sex with me...since we obviously don't have much to talk about.  I'm definitely not myself tonight because I can't believe I am actually considering this...

Killing Me Softly

I must not being doing this right because it's not getting any easier.  I'm trying to focus on the kids and getting into bikini shape but it isn't helping.  I miss him.  I even miss his ring tone--especially his ring tone!  What once use to be an indicator that he was in Vegas thinking about me is now just a huge chasm of silence.  The sound that could light me up and awaken the butterflies in my stomach is no more.  It's been over a week now and the silence is killing me...killing me softly...if you would consider being bludgeoned to death with a cleaver as "softly".  This blows.

I am now at the stage where I am second guessing myself.  Did I really need to push him to express his "feelings" for me?  What the fuck was I thinking?  Who the hell does that to a guy?  No guy wants to be put in that position.  There were plenty of indicators that he cared about me.  I am now about 60% sure that he wasn't using me for sex.  60% aint bad right?  It could be worse.  If I start judging things based on "it could have been worse" then in retrospect things are starting to look pretty damn good.  Who would drive from Vegas to San Diego for a booty call anyway?  The boy is FINE--he definitely doesn't have to drive 5 hours for sex.  I completely self-sabotaged any possible relationship I could have had with Vegas Boy because I have the emotional maturity of newborn.  I officially suck at life.

Ridin' Solo

Don't get your panties in a wad. I didn't call or text him. Well, not until Monday. It was kind of like the urge to poke a sleeping bear...or push people down stairs...or microwave tinfoil--you just WANT to do it but you don't really know why. In this case I did have a somewhat viable reason to contact him. I left my favorite Holister jacket in Vegas Boy's car and I wanted it back REALLY bad (I got it on clearance which added to the sting of its possible loss). My text was witty but to the point...he could have taken it several different ways which was my master plan. What he writes back will speak volumes about his mindset over these last 3 days of silence. His response (drum roll please), "OK. I will mail it tomorrow." Wow! He clearly wants me back. That simple text of 6 words is practically oozing with sexual innuendo and wanton undertones. I am so ecstatic that my heart is racing, I am flushed, and I think I am even starting to sweat a little. Oh wait....I am having an allergic reaction to the expired Prozac I found in my medicine cabinet last night. Great. 

Okay. New plan. I am going to work my ass off and get in the best shape of my life for my upcoming cruise to Mexico. I hadn't even thought of the many possibilities this cruise could offer if I were single and looking. Ridin' solo might be fantastic! My willpower has been renewed. The cruise is only 3 weeks away. I am bound to think of Vegas Boy less and less each passing day...and by the time I get back from the cruise he will be but a distant memory. In theory this sounds like it might work. Of course my past experience is telling me that I am going to crash and burn, make a fool out of myself, and sustain some sort of debilitating physical injury...but at least I will look good

Bad Romance

(This entry was posted out of order last week--sorry) If getting home at 3:30 AM isn't the sign of a successful night then I don't know what is. Girls night out couldn't have been any better and I am feeling pretty friggin good about myself right now. Do NOT underestimate the boost you can get from making out with a random cute boy at a club. I guess the fact that Random Boy couldn't shut up about how hot he thought I was (thank you poor lighting!) and how tight my body was (thank you Bender Ball!) didn't hurt in the least. I often frown on the girls that publicly suck face with a guy they just met...but I was totally that girl...and it was awesome. As an added bonus I am pretty sure I didn't catch anything--I got just what I wanted...an entire night without a single thought of Vegas Boy.

But the high didn't last very long. I am missing him. I am fighting the urge to text him and I am avoiding Facebook so I won't be temped to succumb to social network stalking. I am totally the "internet stalking" type (I now have him hidden from my news feed as an extra precaution). I can only hope that this is going to get easier because I am weak and pathetic and I want him back more than anything right now. I keep reminding myself that a bruised ego will heal...that's all this is. I wanted to prove to myself that I could get someone who once rejected me...but who the fuck cares? It is what it is and I need to move on from this bad romance...which is the exact opposite of what I am doing while I reach for my cell phone...

Hot Mess

We broke it off via text.  He didn't even have the decency to call me.  What is it with me and douche bags?  Why is every guy I like a complete ass hole?  And for the love of baby Jesus why, after all of this, do I still like him and want him and can't stop thinking about him??  I might need therapy after all.  Or I need a girl's night out.  Since a girl's night out doesn't involve me baring my dark and damaged soul to someone while they charge me ass loads of money I think I will go with a girl's night out.  It's cheaper and funner (yes I know that funner isn't a word) and offers the chance of a making out with someone.  This could be exactly what I need right now!

For the record...when I go out and have a goal of making out with a cute boy I rarely fail.  In fact, Halloween may have been my only failure...but I am blaming that on the venue--there just wasn't enough selection (I refuse to believe I looked THAT hideous in my costume).  I am heading out for a night on the town armed with the bitterness of being screwed by Vegas Boy (and not in a good way) and showing plenty of cleavage--I'm basically a hot mess.  Failure is not an option.  I desperately need to stop thinking about Vegas Boy...I need a distraction...even if only for a night...even if I have to be drunk...even if I need a shot of penicillin in the morning.  Well...maybe not the penicillin.

In My Head

I am the master of subtlety. Truly I am. Which is how I chose to handle the Vegas Boy issue. But as it turns out boys are stupid and don't respond to subtlety--go figure. After several failed attempts to do this in a way that would maintain a tiny bit of my dignity I finally laid it all on the line...against my better judgment I was completely forward and honest and all that dumb crap that makes guys wonder if you are on the rag. All I got out of him was "I like you a lot--let's leave it at that for now." Are you fucking kidding me? This is not the response I was hoping for. This isn't even a response that is acceptable at this point.

Now I am playing our weekends over again in my head...this time I am seeing it all in a whole different light. O....M....Fing....G! I've been had like a two bit hooker. For the past 2 months I have been the star of "He's Just Not That Into You." I am pretty sure there is only one thing he was "into" if you get my drift. Ugh. I feel like a complete and utter idiot right now. Lucky for me I've been an idiot on enough occasions that I feel an odd sense of familiarity as it welcomes me back with open arms.

There is a silver lining though. Along with the realization that he's just not that into me comes something even better. Something I probably would have had to pay a shit ton of money in therapy to discover. Vegas Boy represents all the rejection I faced from elementary school through high school. He's the Holy Grail of boys that I wanted but could never have...that I never even stood a chance at having...that never even knew I existed. Having him now would somehow cancel out all that rejection and would prove I am not the homely loser I was back then. Wow--I've reached a new height of emotional dysfunction (even by my standards). But now I know what I have to do. I have to walk away. I SUCK at this part though. I don't want to walk away. I want the boy. I don't want to admit defeat. I want my fucking trophy! I want him to want me--but he doesn't. Welcome to Loserville. Population: 1.

Kryptonite

Aaaahhhh....Vegas Boy (sigh). If I was a superhero Vegas Boy would be my kryptonite. I have no idea why he has the effect on me that he does but it is useless to fight it--absolutely and utterly useless. All it really took was an email and a couple text messages and we were back in business with our hot and heavy flirting. I knew I would have to step it up a bit to get back on his radar but I am not completely without charm. My morals and values might be in question but my charm is undeniable (this might be a slight exaggeration but whatever). 

Vegas Boy came to visit me for the weekend...and it was great. We have lots of fun together. Granted, our clothes are off quite often but it isn't as though we can't carry on a conversation or anything. It is evident that we have excellent chemistry but as it turns our personalities are also a good compliment to each other too. After having "fun" all weekend it was now my turn to head to Vegas. Between my 2 trips up to Vegas he took me to a show at the Wynn, hiking at Red Rock, showed me his office (if you can call a porn studio an office), took me to dinner, cooked for me, etc. Both times I had a fantastic time and our affectionate sarcasm towards each other had found a perfect rhythm. 

I hate how much I like Vegas Boy. I really REALLY do. If I knew he was as into me as I am into him it wouldn't be so fucking annoying...but I don't know that. I might never know that. Unless I ask...

Blah Blah Blah

I am a dip shit and for that I am very sorry--blah blah blah, etc etc etc.  But get over it and just thank baby Jesus that I am back blogging because you all know that reading about my fucked up life really makes you feel better about yourself (which is selfish and you should be ashamed).  However, I will accept the fact that my blog is a public service to my 7 followers and be content that my life, although a disaster in its own right, can bring people joy and happiness in the form of side splitting laughter at my expense.  I am nothing if not a humanitarian.

It will probably take a week of blog entries to update you on the 5 months I was MIA....damn that's sad.  5 blog entries to sum up 5 months.  Wow.  If my self-esteem could actually get any lower this might really make me feel pathetic.  Lucky me I guess.  On to the update:

You may think that my failure to continue blogging was because I met someone great from my CL ad and was off in blissful happiness with my new love.  I am laughing my ass off right now at the absurdity of that notion.  It would have been more likely that I was killed by someone from CL and none of you had heard about it because my body was never found.  But fear not faithful readers...like with most things in my life I merely lost interest in my CL boys about a week or so after I posted my ad.  Out of all my replies I had one guy with major potential though.  We shared many witty emails before moving on to phone conversations where I dazzled him with my brilliant charm and pure awesomeness.  CL Boy was from New York so he had an accent that made me want to start peeling my clothes off in the middle of each conversation (is this just me?).  He was funny and smart...in shape and really cute...owned a home and was employed--shockingly enough, all the things you don't expect from CL.  But there was a problem...and unfortunately it was a deal breaker.  He was a man-child.  He stood a mere 5'8" off the ground.  I tried to get over it.  Really I did.  He was 28 so my hopes that he would hit a growth spurt were futile.  We were set to meet twice...and twice I flaked on him (and yes I used fake "kid" excuses each time).  After flaking on him the second time I just stopped responding to his calls and emails--what was the point?  So, with my self-esteem marginally boosted due to my CL ad (yes, having a midget from CL want to meet me actually increased my self-esteem--stop judging me!!!) I shifted my focus back to Vegas Boy and that's when things started to heat up...

Fool's Gold

My CL ad was up for all of 12 hours (9pm to 9am) and I got 30 replies.  Frickin a.  There are more desperate, screwed up men out there than I ever imagined--which means I have struck gold people!!!  Fool's gold is still gold right??

My ad:  I have issues and baggage....for starters I am a divorced mom of two kids...so if you can't imagine dating a woman with kids go ahead and stop reading. Believe me, I have tried to leave them at Walmart and the grocery store and even stopped picking them up from school at one point but they always manage to find their way home....so basically I am stuck with them and unless you are okay with that then this isn't going to work. Second of all I am emotionally stunted and if I didn't have a $40 copay I would probably be in therapy. I'm a little nutty but I'm definitely not what I have seen referred to as "bat shit crazy." I am well within the normal range of crazy (and I would like to point out that I stay within this range without medication). Moving on.

You are cruising CL for a lady so in all likelihood you have your own issues and baggage (I'm not judging--just pointing out the obvious)...so I am willing to assume you have low expectations as to what sort of person you might come across on CL. This is a great thing! By keeping your expectations low you have a better chance of being pleasantly surprised. I like your thinking. So where do we go from here? Well....you send me an email (and I beg of you--please use spell check)...we share some witty banter being careful not to share too much or else we will have nothing to talk about when we meet for drinks/coffee/slurpees/whatever. Is anyone still reading this?

Time to weed through all my replies...

Old Yeller

I have a question for the cosmos...what the fuck has happened to my life? Someone should seriously take me out back and shoot me. I am basically nothing short of the human equivalent of Old Yeller. How did I go from having so much promise (if you can consider being divorced with 2 kids as having promise) to foaming at the mouth wearing fat pants?  (the fat pants will be explained below) This is not good. Not good at all. I would love to blame my lack of blogging on writer's block...but in all honesty I can only blame it on my pathetic existence. Let me elaborate.

Halloween was a bust. It was a fun night out and I enjoyed myself...but I seriously saw no one I would have been willing to make lip on lip contact with (besides a guy that my friend has slept with who was all sorts of adorable--but apparently has a miniature manhood that requires a search and rescue team to locate...which is a God awful shame given his level of cuteness). So anyway, I was hit on by a greasy older dude who's wife recently drank herself to death (after his opening line of "Are you from Tennessee?......because you're the only ten I see"--I really did not have high hopes for him anyway) and a couple barely legal Marines. The night ended with me hiding in the bathroom. Enough said.

Since Halloween didn't do quite enough to damage my self-worth I decided to go out and buy fat pants just to make my "loser" status official. And by "fat pants" I mean pants with an elastic waistband. Also commonly known as sweat pants--which I believe were invented to hide unsightly fat under multiple yards of fabric thus allowing oneself to get fatter and fatter without realizing it. I have never before owned a pair of fat pants. I have pj bottoms and workout pants...but the fat pants I bought are neither for sleeping nor working out--so by having no actual intended use they are, without a doubt, my fat pants. Putting on my fat pants is basically like being awarded the gold star of a shitty social life...the blue ribbon of dating failure. They are a constant reminder that I have no plans to leave the house and I have no expected company coming over for whom I would want to look presentable for. I am a mere single step away from becoming a creepy cat lady.

Can you see why I have not blogged in 10 days? Do I really want to broadcast the fact that even when I am dressed up all dead sexy like (and by dead sexy I mean scantily clad and showing as much cleavage as humanly possible) I can't get a decent guy to hit on me? But fear not loyal blog readers and random strangers...craigslist is my ace in the hole (and by ace in the hole I mean my last possible act of desperation to find a man) and I am pulling out all the stops baby! So sit tight...because Old Yeller aint getting put down just yet!

Gives You Hell

My parents were brilliant, brilliant people. In hindsight I certainly see this, since hindsight is 20/20. I can, without a doubt, clearly see that they held my hand and led me down the path to being an ugly duckling. I arrived at the Mecca of ugly ducklinghood at a very young age and my parents took every conceivable measure to keep me there. I do understand that I was raised in the 80's so I didn't have much working in my favor to begin with...but come on, my parents could have done much better with the cards they were dealt--but they didn't.

Let’s start with my twice yearly bad perms (tragically bad perms!). Yes, perms where "in" back then. But did I really have to go to some random lady's house in the ghetto where she performed said perm in her living room? I take this to be some sort of indication that my mom really didn't give a shit how the perm came out. And you would think that after this random lady burned my hair to the point where big chunks of it fell out (on several occasions mind you) my mom would have taken me elsewhere. But no. To add insult to injury my hair would be cut/styled into the female equivalent of a mullet after each bad perm. Thanks Mom.

My clothes. I think I would have been perfectly happy (maybe even ecstatic) with clothes from K-mart up until the 6th grade or so...because, honestly, you will become willing to wear just about ANYTHING to avoid having your mom make every single item of clothing that is in your closet. Yes. I was THAT kid. My shirts had ponies, puppies, bows, and all sorts of other crap on them that will get you pelted with balls on the playground. Years of wearing homemade clothes cemented my social status: it put me just one notch above the girl with polio crutches (God bless her frail little heart). Again, thank you Mom.

I am confident that my father was the mastermind behind this plan. This plan saved him many sleepless nights and he really didn't have to do much to pull it off either because he had a lot of help. Me being freakishly tall and skinny helped. Me having jacked up teeth that resulted in braces or some sort of retainer for 4 years helped. Me having minimal coordination and no natural ability to play any sort of sports helped. Me being smart and having a strong drive to excel in school helped. But, nonetheless, his plan worked. I went through high school with MAYBE a hand full of dates and only 1 kiss. However, I find myself very thankful that my parents did absolutely nothing to cultivate my self-esteem. Being an ugly duckling forced me to develop a personality because I couldn't rely on my looks to get me anywhere in life. Although, lucky for me it turns out that you can really ride charm and wit a long way nowadays—score! And perhaps best of all--I have discovered that guys really appreciate women with low self-esteem; it saves them the work of having to lower it themselves. And to all the boys that never gave me a second look back in elementary school, junior high, and high school....I hope it gives you hell to see me now!

All The Small Things

Random updates:

Creepy married dude with the hard-on for me:  He is currently in Florida with his "once-a-month-bone" and their 2 kids.  I have been free from him visually accosting me on a daily basis in the break room.  Is it sad that I miss him looking at my boobs...or just pathetic?

Motocross Boy:  I still get random texts from him once in a while but I ignore them.  According to his Facebook page he recently set himself on fire while out in the desert with friends.  Seems like I dodged a bullet there.  I would not look good with my eyebrows burned off.

Prospective dates:  None.  Unless we count the middle-aged man with braces that hit on me at Walmart.  Please don't make me count him.  I am holding out hope that Saturday night will prove fruitful--I am heading out to party on Halloween with some single girls.  I have volunteered to be the designated driver which might be counterproductive since my social retardation isn't nearly as noticeable once I am properly liquored up.  My rationale behind this is that the more sober I stay the more chance there is that my clothes will stay on (please refer to Clothes Off! if necessary).  I am basically attempting to avoid standing in line outside the local STD clinic at any point in the future.

The ex-b/f:  He is still very much smitten with me.  I make a conscious effort to make a couple mean comments to him each day but I think that has back-fired.  He has taken a liking to my feisty side.  My next step will be to look like crap every day at work...but that won't really help score any prospective dates.  I might need a back-up plan.

The ex-husband:  I haven't made mention of him yet...but he's still a douche bag in case anyone is curious.

My goal this week is focus on all the small things.  Smile at cute guys, make myself more approachable, etc.  If all else fails I will lower my standards and make out with at least 1 guy on Halloween.

No Surprise

I am weaving a tangled web.  A tangled web that will likely get wrapped around my neck and wind up strangling me at some point.  Yeah...THAT kind of web.  It involves boys...which means it is a mere matter of time before something goes wrong.  Really wrong.  My life just doesn't seem balanced without some sort of disaster looming in the distance.  And it usually isn't a natural disaster.  It's man-made.  Courtesy of yours truly.

Things are progressing with Vegas Boy.  We talk every night that I don't have the kids.  We text every day and I send him witty emails that leave him wondering why someone as fabulous as me would be interested in him.  Okay...maybe he doesn't wonder that.  But he should.  I'm pretty freaking fabulous.  He wants to come see me for Thanksgiving while the kids are out of town.  I haven't seen him in 6 months and a huge part of me is really excited....like the giddy kind of excited.  Going to Disneyland for the first time kind of excited.  The problem is that I am still friends with the ex-b/f and he doesn't know that Vegas Boy is back in the picture....ex-b/f NO LIKEY Vegas Boy (he knows I have history with him).  But the ex-b/f is still a big part of my life--you see...the ex-b/f happens to be my best friend...which I have failed to mention to Vegas Boy.  The ex-b/f doesn't know about Vegas Boy and Vegas Boy doesn't know about the ex-b/f...and we all know that nothing good can come of this.  There's no surprise that there are an infinite number of ways that this could blow up in my face.  I am already researching reconstructive surgery and picking out a new nose.  I am thinking along the lines of Megan Fox.  She has a nice nose.  I should just be honest with everyone and let the chips fall where they may.  But I don't want to lose my best friend and I don't want to lose the possibility of "what might be" with Vegas Boy.  So here I am.  Weaving my web in an effort to have the best of both worlds when I know this very same web will eventually trap me, strangle me, and leave me wondering why the hell I make the choices that I do. 

Blame It On The Alcohol

Internet dating.  Been there.  Done that.  Obviously.  The life I live is not one that supplies me with endless opportunity to meet eligible bachelors....so internet dating has really been the only way for me to procure dates.  Speaking of internet dating--I don't know why this makes me feel like such a degenerate--but yes, I have even dated off of craigslist.  I am completely embarrassed to admit this tid bit of info...which really makes no sense at all because I've meet guys of a better caliber from CL than from match.com.  Go figure.  Here's a rundown of my CL experiences so far (some names have been changed to protect identities...in other cases I can't even remember their names so I am just taking a stab in the dark and throwing something out there) :

• Mike...aka the army horse trainer.  Nice guy.  Decent looking.  Went out 3-4 times.  Word to the wise though--if you EVER try to tell me I am doing something wrong with one of my horses you WILL get dumped.  He met his now-wife soon after we dated (not on CL by the way).  I wish Mike and Tiff nothing but the best!
• Ray--or was it Russ...or maybe Randy?  Not sure.  90% of the conversation on our first date was about his ex-wife and her incestuous lesbian love affair with her sister that he happened to walk in on at some point in all their naked glory.  Um, no thanks.  I ran for the hills.
• Andre...aka the metro sexual.  Yikes.  What can I say about a guy that offered to add me to his cell phone plan on the second date?
• Matt....aaaahhh my dear Matty.  Great great guy.  We emailed for almost a year before we eventually met.  We only went out twice...things fizzled.  We still keep in touch via email and he is excited at the prospect of getting to see the new boobs (if we ever make it out on our 3rd date).
• Jake.  I met Jake during a very rough time in my life and he was a great friend.  Things between us drop off for a while then we reconnect several months later.  Definitely not a love connection between the 2 of us but he is a great guy that I could stay friends with for sure!
• Jon...aka muscle man.  This guy was my height but had about 100 pounds more of muscle.  I think he could have picked me up and threw me a good 50 yards.  I just couldn't picture kissing him....so I ended it after 2 dates.  He was a super great guy though and I hope he's found a girl worthy of him.
• A guy who's name totally escapes me.  Went out with him once to a Fall Out Boy concert.  I really wanted to go to the concert but had no one to go with....so why not post an ad on CL and see what happens, right?  He was a nice enough guy....attempted some inappropriate touching/groping at one point in the evening.  You can't really blame a guy for trying but you can blame it on the alcohol--large, copious amounts of alcohol.  Never returned any of his subsequent phone calls.

With that being said...I have certainly had some fun times and some not so fun times in my past couple years of dating.  I don't think we can measure my success in online dating by the fact that I am now single (happily single, I might add!).  Instead, we will measure it based on the fact that I am still alive--which means I have faired pretty darn well if I may say so myself.  I guess it's time to get back out there!

Already Gone

The thought of dating again horrifies me. I am either really really bad at it or I have the worst luck in the whole effing world. I am willing to admit it might be a combination of both. I am the sort of girl who looks good on paper. Well...I look good on paper if we don't mention that I am divorced from a Navy guy with Special Ops training....or that I have 2 kids that take up a large portion of my time, patience, and money....or that I have a job with no real potential for advancement. Okay. Amendment. I am the sort of girl who can send witty emails and create a great first impression and then ease the guy into the fact that I am a divorced mom with a dead-end job (that I actually love) and a dwindling bank account. Somehow I am able to make these things sound charming and cute and I score a date. It is the next part that sucks. The "meeting him in person" part. Actually....I don't think I suck too badly at this part. This is the part that sucks FOR ME. Because we meet and I immediately know that I never want to see him again but I can't tell him that. I'm already gone.  I checked out.  I am making my grocery list in my head but I am either too polite or too much of a coward to be honest. I probably walk the thin line that separates politeness from cowardice. I just can't help it. Honesty to that extent is foreign to me...it terrifies me...and I can't do it. This is what gets me in trouble...this is what makes my life more difficult. This is what I bitch to my friends about. This is why dating is a pain in my ass and I am only going back out there so I have stuff to blog about. I hope you people are happy. I hope you can bask in the warm glow of my misery without choking on the guilt that you should be feeling from using my dating life for your own personal entertainment. Look out craigslist....here I come!