Driving for Sex, Kittens and Essays

I'm supposed to be doing homework....instead I'm sitting on the couch with my laptop, a kitten, the TV on and I'm blogging.  Very constructive.  I'm not sure who is more at fault here.  The ridiculously adorable kitten who makes every attempt to create a bed out of my keyboard or Facebook?  Wait...it's me?  Damn!

I'm writing an essay on an Orson Welles film.  Incredibly, I found an old Vanity Fair article that says everything that I want to say!  I wish I could just copy and paste and pass it off as my own creative genius.  Unfortunately, there are words I've never heard and my professor already thinks I'm a bum.  Great.  I'm grown and have a career and still my professor makes me feel like the dumb girl who sits in the back of the classroom averting my eyes in hopes that my name won't be called to answer the question I didn't understand in the first place.  So as I attempt to translate this fancy Vanity Fair lingo into something that sounds more me and less like plagarism, I get distracted by something sparkly and end up watching Private Practice while I eat chocolate peanut butter ice cream.  I'm well on my way to great things....

I got a new kitten the other day.  I'm wondering if my biological clock had something to do with this - I don't want any more of those little people we call babies, but my body hasn't quite gotten the message yet.  I mean, what other reason would I have for getting a 1 pound little fluff ball that I carry around everywhere I go because I'm afraid my other cat will eat her if I blink for too long?  Did I honestly think that I had time to take care of a 6 week old kitten when I'm working, going to school and taking care of a newly teen-aged boy who thinks that bedtime is an option and video games are the only way of life?  I don't think so...but that doesn't mean that I'm not completely distracted by the extreme cuteness that's so cute it makes me want to throw up.  Please don't let me turn into the crazy cat lady.  I swear...two cats is the max for me.  I won't get any more!!

Question - how far is too far to drive for sex?  Is two hours a bit extreme?  Well, my Mr. Big is now two hours away from me because I made the oh-so-brilliant decision to move to a land that reeked of mystery and intrigue, but really just smells like stale beer and hangovers. Why did I think that college boys would be a good time?  They're broke, still get acne, and don't know how to brush their hair and put on decent clothes before hitting on a girl that is way out of their league.  Going to a bar here is like daycare gone bad....and not only is it a stabbing  reminder that I am not that young anymore, but it's a slap in the face when I remember that they're just a few years older than my son.  I can't do the big dirty with someone who is that close to being young enough to be my son.  And when in the hell did bangable guys get to be young enough to be my son??  I am not that old, thank you!  I'm barely in my 30's after all.  So here I am in a city full of hot young things that I can't touch because my legs refuse to uncross when in their presence and that forces me to do what I swore I wouldn't...I'm driving two hours so that I can get some.  That's right...I'm going on a long distance booty call.  Don't judge.  At least the sex is good and makes me walk funny after he twists me up like I'm a friggin pretzel.  Being bent up like a crazy, distorted pretzel can be painful...sometimes I pretend that I can still breathe while my body bends in places it shouldn't.  I suppose things could be worse.....

The kitten has fallen asleep and my essay isn't going to write itself...I guess that means it's time for me to go.

Glutton for Punishment

So....I did the match.com thing a while ago.  Why, you ask?  Because apparently I like being hit on by men old enough to be my father and hairy enough to be mistaken for my pet bear.  That, and I'm borderline desperate to get away from the best sex and hottest man I've ever dated for the sake of not being 40 and still stuck in this lame excuse for a relationship that will go nowhere.  So here I am again, Match-ing it up in a new town.  And by new town, I mean a little hole in the wall where the men are all fat, broke and "currently separated."  Cause, yeah, I'm looking for a man who is married.  That's my dream in life....

As I was sorting through the emails full of bad grammar and sappy compliments - like the one who told me I looked like an Elle model - I just want to know, how does he know what Elle is?  Personally, I like guys who know Vogue as a dance Madonna did in the 80's and Cosmo for the sex tips.   Okay, my point here is, I was sorting through the emails crowding up my inbox and deleting those that are still married to someone who is clearly not me and wondering....do I really want out of this pseudo-relationship so much that I'm willing to punish myself with a flood of obnoxious guys who think they have a chance and the even worse dates with The Octopus who can't keep his hands off me even though all he knows about me is my first name and that I'm new to the area??  UGH!!!

I'm not asking for much, really.  Just a good looking guy who makes a decent living and gives me great sex.  I mean, I can't sit around wondering when the next time is that one of us will make that two hour drive for some peel-me-off-the-ceiling naughtiness.  

Hopelessly

I've come to the conclusion that I'm hopelessly in love...hopeless being the key word there.  I can't help it.  He is my Big, after all.  I just want to know, does it make me any less hopeless knowing that he loves me, too?

How did I get here?

This is my first blog - so please, bear with me.  I will introduce myself on the off chance that someone who doesn't know me is listening....  

I'm a single mom, student, nurse, and dater-extraordinaire.  Sometimes I feel like my life is more of a comedy and less the romantic drama that I crave.  I work myself to the bone for the sake of a paycheck and go to school in the evenings and wonder why it is that I'm still seeing a guy who has sucked me in to a loveless and twisted dead end relationship.  Sure, it started out promising...but here we are nearly 4 years later and we're more besties than anything else.  Ugh...  All that aside, there has been plenty of dating drama and humor mixed in and  surely there's more to come.  I'm not sure that anything will compare to the guy who called me a dirty little bitch, or the infamous Toilet Paper Guy.  Can't say that I'll be heartbroken....