I Am Smarter Than This

When I started my previous blog, about a year and a half ago, I had one reason for doing it.  I have a really bad tendency to mull things over and over and over in my head.  Looking for some resolution.  Looking for some answers.  I will approach the situation from every available angle and look at every possible outcome.

I drive myself crazy.

I started writing because it is an outlet.  For most people that write, I suppose.

It’s a way to get the feelings and emotions out of my head and into something tangible.

I didn’t expect to have people comment.  I didn’t expect to connect with so many women that are experiencing or have experienced the same exact shit.

It was my therapy.

I had to delete my original blog, a few months ago, because I had an old friend who read it and used it against me.  I asked him to stop and he wouldn’t.  It got ugly.  He became almost a stalker.  It was time to let the blog go, delete all the memories, stories and feelings and start mulling shit over in my head again.

This did not work for me.  I missed getting it out.  I missed the connection to the world, to show me that I was ok and not alone, in my journey to find love and all the disappointments that come with it.

In my last few posts, talking about the red flags with the 29 year old, the threesome with my married friend and the possible sex only relationship with E, I realize that I sound a little crazy.

I am a smart girl.  I know the difference between right and wrong.  I will almost always make the right decision for my heart and for the other people involved.  I want to hurt as few people as possible, including myself.

I have turmoil in my heart and my head, just like I would assume most single women do.

I give my heart freely and body probably to freely.

I love sex.  I love love.  I love the thought of forever.  But I also love the thought of a good orgasm.

My heart gets split between men.  All the time.  My whole life.

The biggest part of my heart is in NYC.  My daughter thinks that I am killing time with others, because I cannot let go of NYC.  This may be true.  But I’m not ready to let him go completely.  I’m not ready to take my heart back from him.  Logically, I know he’s never coming home.  Logically, I know that I may never see him again.

The relationships, if you can call them that, with the Accidental Relationship and the married guy, aren’t ever going to go anywhere.  I KNOW this.  I have always known it.  But frankly, I care about them both and am not ready to walk away.

I did a lot of soul searching yesterday, after writing about the possible threesome and the possible sex only relationship with E.  A lot of soul searching.

The threesome won’t happen and I texted him this morning to tell him just that.  I’m not comfortable with it and I know in my heart that it would ruin our friendship.  It is NOT worth it for me.  To lose his friendship and to jeopardize my own well being, it isn’t worth it.  Not even to make him happy, or for some good orgasms.

I haven’t made my decision with E.  Do I think I can do it and keep it sex only?  Probably not.  Do I think it would be worth it?  I don’t have the answer for that.  It could be that we keep talking, have a drink together and both of us decide the physical side of things shouldn’t happen or there is no interest in it anymore.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I am intelligent woman.  Everything I do is 100% full of passion and every decision is made with my heart.  I know some of the decisions I make are bad, but sometimes I decide to do them anyway.

Thank you to all of you out there who read this and understand and are supportive.  Whether or not you agree with my decisions, you are supportive and helpful.

For all of you that don’t understand, that’s ok.  I appreciate your comments and thoughts as well.

Some of the most intelligent and put together women I know make the worst decisions possible when it comes to affairs of the heart.  And probably the vagina.

We have affairs.  We have one night stands.  We make poor decisions.  We fall in love with men we shouldn’t and push away men that maybe we should hold on to.  We blame ourselves when things go bad but never take the credit when things go good.  We aren’t perfect, but dammit, we are good.  And smart.  And fun.  And sexual.  And perfectly imperfect.

It makes us human.  Makes us normal.  Makes us all stick together and know that we aren’t alone in our journey.


The Internal Debate

There is a guy that I’ve been texting and snapping with for a couple weeks now.  I met him on Tinder, before I remembered I hated Tinder.

No...not THAT kind of snapping.
No…not THAT kind of snapping.

E is sexy.  He is not what I usually look for physically, but dammit, he is hot.  There is something about him.

When we first starting chatting on Tinder, he told me that he was in the middle of his second divorce and was broken.  He said he was damaged and couldn’t offer anyone his heart or any kind of a commitment.  I thanked him for his honesty and wished him good luck.

He wrote me back and said he would always be honest, because he refused to mess with someone’s heart.  Asked if we could keep texting and getting to know each other.  He said he was looking for friends to hang out with, play pool with and have a few drinks with.  I told him, very honestly, that I could not do the casual sex thing.  Well I could, but that I didn’t want to, because it was hard on my heart when I got attached.  He said he wasn’t looking for a sex partner, just friendship.

So I decided it couldn’t hurt anything.

Here’s the thing, we started texting and within a week or so, the conversation turned sexual, because why wouldn’t it.  We started talking about likes and dislikes, sending some suggestive, but not explicit pictures.

He told me, as all men do, that he likes orally taking care of a woman and is really good at it.  Yeah, fucking right!  You all say that and couldn’t figure it out if I drew you a fucking map!!  But I am hot-blooded woman, in my sexual prime and I was intrigued.

Anyway, it’s been easy conversation.  Talking about kids and music and work.  He has told me that he has a couple friends that he meets up with, occasionally, to get rid of the sexual urge.  They know the other exists and he doesn’t hide it. He sends me pictures on Snapchat, telling me good morning and calling me beautiful.

We were talking about meeting a couple days ago for a drink or two.  I was excited and scared.  I finally thought I should tell him.

I sent him a text that broke it down for him.  I told him I wasn’t ready to meet him face to face.  That I knew myself well enough and that I couldn’t do the casual sex thing, without getting attached.  I told him that since he clearly couldn’t give me anything serious, I was worried.  That I had been hurt very recently and wasn’t sure I could handle it.

I wasn’t sure if he would respond.  And if he did, would it be nasty?  Would it be a goodbye?

He did respond.  And he was an angel about it.

He said he understood and because he was damaged and didn’t expect anyone to “fix him”, that he knew he couldn’t give me commitment and anything more than friendship.  He said that I was amazing and he would never want me to do anything I was uncomfortable with or that I would regret later.  Then he ended the text with saying “Andi, I enjoy talking to you and flirting with you.  If you want to be ‘virtual friends’ for right now, or forever, I’m ok with that.”

Yah, it may be a total line.

I don’t give one fuck if it is, it made me feel better.

Yesterday, he told me that when he “swiped right” and it said he matched with me, he was shocked.  I asked him why.  He said “You are beautiful and way out of my league.  I didn’t think you’d give me the time of day.”

Yah, that might be a total line too.

Again, I don’t give one fuck.

So, of course, my vagina head and my heart are arguing.


I know it’s not a good idea to see him.  The fear of my heart getting involved at some point, is terrifying.  I know me so well.  I get attached.

BUT, I am a hot blooded American woman who loves sex.  I should be able to explore that.  I really should find out if he’s that orally gifted.

My heart tells me I’m a dumb bitch.  I want a relationship, a forever.  I want someone who loves me no matter what.  I have people in my world that I can have sex with.  I don’t need to find someone new for that.

My vagina head tells me that I am a grown woman and should be able to separate the two.  Finding someone to have sex with and a few drinks now and then, is not a bad thing.  I can still look for my forever, without my vagina growing cobwebs.


Maybe E is the perfect solution for me.

Maybe E is someone else feeding me crap to get me into bed.

But, I ask you this, if he really does enjoy going down on women, and he’s really good at it, shouldn’t I find that out?

And on a side note, he isn’t asking me for a threesome.  So that’s something.

I Make Bad Decisions

This is no secret.

I’m going to write this and put it out in the universe for the first time.

For the last year and half, I have been having occasional sex with a married man.

None of the details of it matter.

It is what it is and we have always been honest with each other about where things are.

HOWEVER, one thing he wants in his fantasy world, is a threesome.  Which does not surprise me, since it seems to be a fantasy of most men.

I’ve done it.  It isn’t my thing.

I’ve told him, over the last year or so, that I couldn’t have a threesome with him, because it would be difficult for me to see him with someone else.  I’ve lived it.  I know.

Then slowly, because I care about him, I told him that if he really wanted it, we could make it happen, but it would be the last time him and I could be together.  It would end whatever the fuck this is that we are doing.

Today is his birthday.  I told him that he could have lovin’ of his choice for his birthday.  He brought up the threesome again.  Of course he did.

I have decided to try to make this happen for him, knowing that my relationship with him will be over, once the threesome happens.

It makes me sad.  My eyes are filling with tears, just thinking about it being over.

I care about him.  Love him, maybe.  I want him to be happy.  I want him to have every fantasy fulfilled.  I am willing to sacrifice “us” for his happiness.

But here is where I need help.  I need the third person to be someone that I have no ties to, emotionally or otherwise.  I need to find someone that we both are attracted to, but that I won’t have to see ever again.

Knowing that this will end my friendship / relationship with him, is killing me.

But I want him to be happy.

So I need suggestions…where can I find someone who will be willing to do this and be discreet about it?

Sitting Here…


cracked heart

And I’m sad.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

All of a sudden, it was hard to breathe.  Hard to fight back the tears.

I’m lonely.  I’m sad.  I feel so helpless and so sad.

I feel like I’m never gonna be enough.  For anyone.

I’m not pretty enough.  Not thin enough.  Don’t make enough money.

I’m clingy.  I’m emotional.  I’m to much.

I want to be loved.  I want someone to want me.  I want to know that I’m on someone’s mind.

I want to be hugged.  Kissed.  Held.  Told I’m beautiful.

I want to laugh.  Love.  Be.

I need to be wanted.  I need to be needed.

I’m so tired of my heart being sad.  I’m tired of my heart being in a million different pieces.  I’m tired of loving and loving and loving.

I feel incapable of loving completely, yet I don’t feel complete unless I’m loving.  How fucked up is that?

I’m not sure my heart will ever be whole.  Every man that has hurt me, physically or emotionally, over the last 25 years, has taken a piece of it, or broken a piece off.  I know they say “time heals all wounds”, but does it?

When I was 15, I lost my virginity.  It was an older boy and it just kinda happened. Later that night, I was crying and on the phone with him.  His response to my tears, was “I don’t know why you are crying, it isn’t like you are the only girl at school who has lost her virginity.”  One piece of my heart, crushed.

When I was 18 and pregnant, my daughter’s father became physically abusive.  He went from name calling, to pushing and shoving and shaking.  He told me that I didn’t deserve to get married, because I wasn’t good enough.  I left him at 19 and became a single mom, to a 9 month old baby.  A year later, he was married.  Two pieces of my heart, crushed.

The stories go on and on…


Break Ups.



By the time I got around to dealing with New York, Mr. Perfect, The Accidental Relationship and the 29 year old, my heart was in so many pieces.  When someone takes those small pieces and hurts you again, all it does is make all those small parts even smaller.

Eventually, you are left with dust.  Suffocating and painful.  Making each breath a struggle.

I’m scared to care.  I’m scared to love.  I’m scared that sooner, rather than later, there are going to be no more parts left to break.  Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.  If there is no heart left, maybe it won’t hurt.  Maybe heartbreak will be thing of the past.

Until then…


The Bachelorette and Prince Charming


Besides Andi and Josh, I cannot remember a Bachelorette finale that I enjoyed so much.

Seeing Kaitlyn and Shawn together and smiling, it warmed my heart.  Every ounce of my cold, dead heart.

But it also made me sad.  I cried while Shawn was confessing his undying love to his princess.  I cried as Kaitlyn finally told her prince that she loved him.

I wonder where men like this reside.

Maybe as personal trainers in Connecticut.

Maybe as insurance salesmen in Kentucky.

Maybe as dentists in Florida.

Maybe in Never, Never Land.

Last night, as Shawn was saying that one thing he was the most excited about was finally being able to defend Kaitlyn and stand up for her, I had some mixed emotions.  On one hand, the tears were welling up in my eyes and on the other hand, I was trying to stop myself from throwing up in my own mouth and choking on it.

I may be attracted to the wrong types of guys.  However, I cannot figure out what this type is.  All of the guys I have been interested in and even the man I was married to, are SO incredibly different.  Different jobs, different looks, different lifestyles, different positions in bed, different penis sizes and different heights.

All very different.

Yet, one thing remains the same.  They do not want me.  I am not their princess or their forever.

I love deeply and passionately.  I do not do anything half way.  But when my heart gets broken, it breaks all the way.  It doesn’t splinter.  It shatters.

All of the men I’ve dated (or the one I was married to) have all been allowed to make me feel certain ways when things ended.  Yes, I allowed it.

I gave them the power to affect me the way that did.

I am not perfect.

My boobs don’t stand perky.  When I lay on my back, they fall back under my armpits.

I don’t always shave my legs and my girly parts, because frankly, it’s a pain in the ass.

I have some silver hairs, laced in with the brown.  I have to color it every 6 weeks to prevent them from blinding people in the sun.

I have a flaw in my front tooth.  It is very noticeable to me, although not always to others.

I have a few stray hairs that grow on my chin and sometimes upper lip.

If I do not have my eyebrows waxed or threaded, they would grow together as one.

My thighs rub together.  I have never had, nor will I ever have, a thigh gap.

I have scars on my body.  From heart surgery, C-section, appendectomy and gall bladder removal.

My stomach is not flat.  And I have back fat.

I have wrinkles by my eyes, from laughing and probably crying, over the years.

I am emotional.  I cry at reality TV shows and when my feelings get hurt.

I am a pack a day smoker.

I don’t handle alcohol well.  I either love on everyone or cry.

I have to stop myself from gambling, because I know it is a dangerous addiction for me.

I need resolution to things.  Closure.  I do not do well with “not knowing” and accepting things for “what they are”.

I rush to judgment sometimes on people.

I am not a good housekeeper.  I can do it, I just hate doing it.

These are flaws I know about myself.  Inside and outside of me.  I know these about myself and fight these insecurities daily.  DAILY.

I think what men (and women) don’t realize is that their behavior can trigger these insecurities.  It can worsen them and bring them to the front of your world.

Is it their responsibility?  Probably not.  Is it mine to not give them the power?  Probably.

This is me being brutality honest.

It’s hard.  It’s hard after years of being told you aren’t good enough or being treated like you don’t matter, to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and push all the negatives to the back again.

When a man doesn’t want you, you start picking apart why.  At least I do.

Because of what has happened to me, especially in the last five years, I constantly wonder what is wrong with me.

I look in the mirror now and see all the flaws.  I see all the reasons that no one would love me.  Physically and emotionally.

I hate that I let myself think this way.

I hate that I let them have this power over me.

I hate that I cry during a “reality” show, because I want someone to love me like that.

And maybe…some day, someone will.

Maybe my Prince Charming will find me.

Congratulations to Kaitlyn and Shawn.  I hope this is one of the success stories.

I hope Nick Viall will stop trying to be on the Bachelorette or vying for the next Bachelor.  I’m sick of seeing his serial killer smile all over the news and social media.

Good Bye, Nick.  And Good Riddance.

The Bachelorette Pre-Finale Post

**Warning: This post contains fluff about “reality” TV.  I use the term loosely.**

I love the Bachelor/ette TV series.  Everything about it.

The people, the locations, the fancy dates and especially, Chris Harrison.

I know that very few of these couples actually make it.  I know so much of it is scripted and that it is easy to fall in love in those environments, but I. Don’t. Care.  I love the damn show.

It is the romantic, searcher of happily-ever-after, in me.

This season started out interesting.  Two Bachelorettes.  I crossed my fingers that Kaitlyn would be the one chosen.  I was not a fan of Britt’s, even on Farmer Chris’ season.

Kaitlyn was chosen as the Bachelorette.  Yay!


Her season has been very emotional.  Or, as Chris Harrison would say, “The Most Dramatic Ever”.

Drunk guys.  A Bro-mance.  The Princeton Grad.  Crazy Healer.  The Return of Nick.

She had some wonderful guys as well.

Showing up in a cupcake car.  Bringing her moonshine.  One with horrible facial hair but a heart of gold.  The two Bens.  Oh…and Shawn Booth.  *swoon*

Tonight, the finale of her “journey to find love” will air.  Undoubtedly, dramatic.

Good vs. Evil

Perfect vs. Serial Killer

Shawn Booth vs. Nick Viall

Good vs. Evil
Good vs. Evil

I cannot fucking wait.  I was hurrying my weekend along, in anticipation for tonight’s show.

I love Shawn Booth.

I hate Nick Viall.

Shawn is the perfect man.  The man who could sweep any girl off her feet.  You see his big strong arms and his winning smile and just melt.  Talk about panty dropping!

Nick is creepy.  He was runner-up on Andi’s season and here’s hoping he’s runner-up again.  He smiles at awkward times, he talks to much about Andi and he looks like a serial killer.

I’m a lunatic.  I know this.

Please stop rolling your eyes at me and muttering what a loser I am under your breath.

The Bachelorette is my guilty pleasure.

Can’t wait!!

Can The Wrong Man, Be The Right Man?

For those of  you who may have read my blog before I had to delete it, you may remember Mr. Perfect.

For those of you who did not read my blog before, let me give you a quick recap.

I have known Mr. Perfect for almost two years now.

To protect his privacy, I will not state where or how I met him.

When I first saw him, he was a little overweight and nothing physically that I am typically attracted to, but there was something about him.   I talked to him and noticed that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.  My heart literally skipped a beat.

The next time I saw him, I went up to flirt with talk to him.  He was wearing a wedding ring.  What the fuck!?!?

We eventually ended up becoming friends.  We talked about relationships, kids, work and life in general.  I finally had the nerve to ask him about his ring.  He told me that he didn’t always wear it, because it depended on what he was working on that day.

Over the course of our friendship, we have talked about everything.  And I mean everything. 

He has told me that his marriage isn’t good.  He isn’t happy.  He works his ass off and she is pretty unappreciative, from what I can tell.  She doesn’t have to work.  She stays home with their kids.  She doesn’t ever want to have sex with him.  She doesn’t kiss him or hug him or give him the attention that a wonderful man, like him, needs and deserves.

Now, I am not naïve enough to think I am getting the full story.  I realize that I am only getting his side of it, but frankly, I don’t give one fuck about her side.

Anyway, I have confided in him about my whole life.  He knows about the Accidental Relationship leaving.  He knows about the 29 year old playing childish games with me.  He knows about New York finding love.  He also knows about the crazy, stalker that is Mr. Rocker.

On Thursday, when I was in the middle of my emotional breakdown last week, he stopped by to chat.  And by chat, I mean, give me a big bear hug, that I needed more than anything.  The minute I saw him, I threw my arms around him, buried my face in his neck and sobbed.  Actually sobbed.

I told him how my self-esteem took a hit with everything that happened with the 29 year old.  I told him that when I looked in the mirror, all I saw was wrinkles and gray hair and an old woman.  He knows me well enough to know that that this not me “fishing”, it’s genuinely how I feel.  The tears may have given that away as well.

He told me that I needed to be a bitch and put these men in their place.  To not let them treat me like I was worthless.  He said that I deserved more.  That I deserved someone who would love me all the time, like I needed to be loved.  He actually said that I should have told the 29 year old “it’s really easy to send pictures over messenger on Facebook, so don’t ever call me, text me or contact me at all anymore, or your girlfriend will know where you were on 7/2”.

I told him I didn’t want to make empty threats and didn’t want to be “that girl”.  He told me that I needed to be “that girl”, so guys would quit treating me badly.

Something to think about, I guess.

We also talked more about his marriage and how things have been going down hill for him.

It actually made me cry.  I sat and cried, while he told me about his marriage and how unwanted and unloved he felt.  He said that he was staying married at this point, for the sake of the kids and her health insurance.  (Thanks, Obama)

When he left, I started thinking about him.  About us.  Our friendship.

I love this man.  I love everything about him.  His voice.  His face.  His passion.  His smile.  Everything.

He has a voice that makes your panties wet.  He says my name and I want to cum.

I know that the situation is awful.  He’s in a horrible marriage.  I’m a “fixer”.  It’s a dangerous combination.  For my heart and my soul.

But I love him.

I know that right now, he is wrong for me.  For a million different reasons.

But I always wonder if someday, he could be right for me.