I’ve Started Writing…

and then stopped.

I have nothing to write about right now.

I’ve hit a mental road block.

Things are wonderful with E.  I didn’t expect them to be, but they are.

The Accidental Relationship pops in and out, when he’s lonely.  He actually told me he missed me the other day.

The 29 year old is a selfish little douche.  I am completely over that.  And frankly, my “relationship” with E, may be helping that.

We had a 60th birthday party for my stepdad.  It was fun, but nothing to write home about.

I drove down to SoCal with my daughter on Sunday and we spent 14 hours on Monday, walking around Disneyland.  It was the first time I had been, in more than 20 years and my first time there with her.  We had an absolute blast.  Roller coasters, rides, fairly short lines and junk food, with my favorite girl.

Work is work.

Regular season baseball is almost over and my team sucks.

Regular season football started and my team sucks.

Regular season basketball will start next month and my team will suck.

So that’s my life.

I guess it’s good that I have nothing horrible to write about.


Making New Friends and an Update On E

I have always been quite the social butterfly.

In High School, I didn’t consider myself “popular”, but I did have a lot of friends.  I was friends with everyone.  The jocks, the nerds, the band members.  I literally loved everyone, except the cheerleaders.  They were awful!  (Partly kidding, as one of my long time best friends was a cheerleader)

Over the years, you drift apart.  Some go to college, some have babies, some get married and some die.  It just happens.  It’s all a very natural process.  The older you get, the more you also realize that quality friends are more important than the quantity of friends.

If you look at my Facebook, looks like I have tons of friends!  I don’t.  I have tons of acquaintances.  People that I’m ok with them knowing that I love Carl’s Jr. Western Bacon Cheeseburgers and hate yoga.  Not people that I would be ok with them knowing that I love sex and want to do it as much as possible.

Since I’ve been single, I’ve been missing having girlfriends.  Girls that you can get together with, have a few drinks, sing karaoke and just “be” with.  I really only had 3 people that I felt like I could be myself with.  I could cry, show up without showering or laugh until I almost peed.  I know these girls would love me anyway.  The problem is that one of them lives almost three hours away and is in the middle of a semi-ugly divorce, one of them has been living with her boyfriend until recently and the other has been married for 39 years and has custody of her pre-teen grandkids.

One of my best friends J, is the one that was living with her boyfriend (who I hate) but she just recently moved out and moved in with one of our newly single mutual girlfriends.

This, my friends, is a party waiting to happen!

I have been spending quite a bit of time over there with these girls.  And the very, very cool thing about this situation, is that I have been introduced to two awesome women!

One is happily married, with two little girls, but she is a comedienne and makes me want to pee myself, every time I see her.  She is so supportive and her personality is very parallel to mine.  The other is a single mom of three littles and completely awesome.

They are both awesome and I love to be able to call them friends now.  It’s also very cool that we all text and talk all the time, but feel comfortable hanging out as a group, or separately.

I think women need to realize how important it is to have other girlfriends.  Husbands, boyfriends and couple friends are fine, but there are very few things more fun than just being yourself with girls who get you.

Quick update on E…

He’s awesome.

I adore him.  He adores me.

The sex is amazing.  Every fucking time.  Amazing.

I think I have actually used the term “Mind Blowing”.  It’s so accurate.

We are typically seeing each other about twice a week.  It has been working out well because by the time we see each other again, we are craving each other.

As good as the sex is though, I love the conversation with him.  We talk about anything and everything.

He makes me smile.

I Only Give One Chance

I suppose that isn’t entirely true.

Over the years, I have given a million chances to some people and let me tell you, they never, ever work out.

I have made the decision, based on past experiences gone wrong, that I am willing to give ONE chance, if the situation allows.  People mess up.  It’s human nature.  If someone messes up and they are genuinely sorry, they deserve a second chance.  I don’t mean for murder or rape or dressing up like a clown.  Obviously, if someone dresses up like a clown, I would NEVER forgive them.

The 29 year old is the latest in people who I wanted to give a second chance.

He screwed me over.

We met on April 1st (April Fool’s Day should have been a clue to me) and we dated and hung out for a few months.  He told me he was not someone who fooled around with multiple people.  He told me that I was the only one he was seeing.  He told me that he really liked me.

I had some yellow and red flags that were popping up, but me being me, chose to push them to the back of my mind and not think about them.

Today is September 16th.  I have seen him exactly one time since June 1st.  ONE TIME.  On my birthday.  He came by for some celebratory birthday sex.  That was July 2nd.  I have not seen him in 10 weeks.

In mid-July, I was stalking looking at his Facebook (we are not ‘friends’ on there) and saw the thing that no girl wants to see when they are dating someone who has stated that they are the only one.


In a mother fucking relationship.


The normal thoughts went through my head.

Fuck you, you asshole!

Don’t ever fucking call me again!

Is it me you are in the relationship with?

Well, after a little more investigating, I found out who she was.  Four people liked his relationship status update and one of the girls had a profile pic of them together.  So, using my finely tuned investigative skills, I figured she might be the girlfriend.

I took the above picture and texted it to him.  I decided on one simple word.


Didn’t hear from him.  I texted him the next day, to let him know exactly how I felt.  Didn’t hear from him.

And then I let it go.


He popped up about 3 weeks after that and started texting me.  Told me I was hateful and blah blah blah.   I was very raw with him, with my emotions.  I told him just exactly how hurtful he was to me and how he made me feel completely unimportant and insignificant. That my feelings clearly didn’t matter to him, because he was able to lie to me, straight to my face.

He apologized.  Repeatedly.  Told me he missed me so much.  That I was the perfect woman.

Then, he said these things to me…

I was drinking with some girlfriends and he said (and I quote) “Have a good time babe. But don’t forget you are taken”  He followed that up with an LOL and “I know we need to talk first”.

He was flying home from Hawaii this weekend and told me that he couldn’t wait to get home and see me.  I asked him why.  He said “Because I want to see you and talk to you.  I want to get this straightened out because I think we could have something really good together.

Oh.  Ok.

Last night, he was supposed to come see me, before I went to karaoke.  I had it planned out in my head, everything I wanted to say to him.

I was however, open to having a discussion and depending on what was said, I thought a second chance may be in order.

Here’s a quick recap of my evening.

4:22pm: He texted me and said he was just leaving (I don’t know where he was) and that traffic was bad, but he would try to get to me before I had to leave for karaoke.

4:23pm: I texted him back and told him that I didn’t have to leave until about 7:15 for karaoke.

4:25pm: Oh ok.  I thought you left at 5:30.

I went home and jumped in the bath and shaved my legs.  Got out, fixed my makeup and curled my hair.  I put on my outfit for karaoke and went out on the balcony to smoke a cigarette and enjoy an Angry Orchard.

5:37pm: Smoking and drinking.

6:07pm: Best friend calls.  I vent, starting to get pissy.

7:08pm: I left my house.  Stopped and bought cigarettes and headed up to karaoke.

8:17pm: He texts me.  This exact message.  “Just got work, had a little trouble sorry honey”

Yep.  Fuck you.

It took him four hours to text me and let me know he wasn’t going to make it.  FOUR mother fucking hours.

I didn’t respond.

I haven’t heard from him since.

I don’t know what “trouble” he had.  Maybe his girlfriend couldn’t tear herself away from him.   Maybe a monkey climbed in his car and beat him silly with a banana.

I don’t know.  I didn’t ask.  It doesn’t really matter to me.

He’s inconsiderate.

He’s rude.

He’s hurtful.

My feelings clearly don’t matter, even at this point.

I was willing to give him one chance to explain.  One chance to make it right.

He missed that chance last night.

Good bye 29 year old!!!


Do Men Have A Radar?

Beep.  Beep.  Beep.
Beep. Beep. Beep.

I have always felt like they do.

I can go days and sometimes weeks without hearing from a man that I have dated or hope to date.

But all of a sudden, I’m happy.  I’m spending a healthy amount of time with E and things are genuinely good with us.   Work is going and my girlfriends are all single, so we are spending a lot of time drinking and singing karaoke together.

*Knock on wood*

I have noticed over the last week or two, that ex-men seem to be coming out the woodwork.  It’s like they have a radar that is beeping to them that I am happy.

Beep.  Andi is Happy.  Beep.  Let’s fuck this up for her.  Beep.

The Accidental Relationship.

He is texting me all the time.  I mean ALL the damn time.  Calling me babe and sweetie and sending me penis pictures.  Oh they are nice, don’t get me wrong, but really?  He ignored me for months, had no desire to see me before he moved and now he wants me.  He wishes I was in Washington and talks about all the things he would do to me, if I were there.

The 29 Year Old.

Has been texting me almost every day, for two weeks.  Sometimes I respond and sometimes I don’t.  Depends on my mood and my company.  He is in Hawaii right now and wants me to go with him, when he goes back in 3-4 weeks.  Who can afford a quick trip to Hawaii?  His work is paying for him to be there.  My work, however, will not pay for me to go.

He keeps telling me how sorry he is.  And I believe that he is sorry.  He’s sorry he chose that young, little idiot girl over me.  He’s sorry that I stalked his Facebook and found out about said little girl.  He’s sorry that he got caught.

I am wavering back and forth between wanting to see him, to try to get an explanation and not ever seeing him again, because I probably can’t behave.  I am also a firm believer that people mess up and depending on the circumstances, sometimes deserve a second chance.  We’ll see.  I’m still back and forth.

The High School Ex #1

This is the guy that took my virginity. Don’t get me wrong, I gave it to him, but after I did, he was a typical 16 year old boy and quite an ass about it.  I broke up with him 3 days later.

The last time I saw him, I was about 6 months pregnant with my daughter.  She is now almost 22.

He found me on Facebook a few years ago.  I will hear from him, every day for a few weeks and then he drops of the planet for a few months.  Well now that Andi is happy with E, guess who has popped back up.

The High School Ex #2

Dated him the summer between my Freshman and Sophomore years.  He may have been my first “puppy” love.  I adored him.  He broke my damn heart.

Well guess what?  Now he has popped up.  Thinks it is time we had sex, since we never did in High School.  Yes, I’m sure your wife would agree with that.

Men are such pigs.

They just come out of the blue.  Randomly.  It’s weird.

I asked E if men had that radar.  He said “Maybe.  But I think women have it too”.

Apparently people are contacting him as well.  But I didn’t ask.  I don’t want to know.

Things are going well with E.  I will write about it, in a later post.  As not to jinx it.

I’m happier than I have been, in a really long time.

Type, Delete, Type, Delete. Type. Delete.

Over the past 4 days, I have started several blogs.  Started writing and deleting.  Reading.  Writing.  Deleting.  Repeat.  Over and over and over.

For those of you who don’t know, or don’t care, I had a blog that I started a little over a year and half ago.  It contained more posts about life in general.  Amy’s journey with brain cancer, dating, surviving stressful work situations and sex.

I had a little over 200 followers on that blog and I loved it.  It eased my mind to write and there were several posts that made me cry and several that made me laugh out loud.

I deleted that blog in early May of this year.  Completely gone.  Deleted forever.  All my thoughts just gone.  The feelings that I went through from finding out Amy had cancer, to dealing with being a “bonus” mom to her kids.  Dealing with breakups.  New jobs possibilities.  Memories of my grandparents.  Gone.  Forever.

I had an ex-friend of mine, who I naively gave my blog site address too.  He continued to read it, after our friendship was over.  He used my own words against me and would text me or email me, with things I said in my blog.  I felt a little like I was being stalked and was very grateful that he didn’t’ know where I lived.

I found myself filtering what I was saying.  Who I was talking about.  Details about life.  So I deleted it.  To end the struggle, I wiped out everything I had written, for 16 months.

I find myself feeling that way a little right now.

Like I need to filter my thoughts and my feelings.

I’m not sure why I feel like this.

If You Are Reading This…


I had a comment on my last post that was hateful and hurtful from someone who has never commented on anything of mine, but stated that they have been reading my blog for some time.

I trashed the comment because it was awful.  If you have something constructive to say, whether I agree or not, fine.  I’ll post it because I know that my decisions aren’t always the best and I look for help.

But because you are an asshole, hiding behind a keyboard, let me clear up a few things for you.

Yes, I did have my daughter very young.  I was 17 when I got pregnant and 18 when I had her.  I proceeded to become a single mom, shortly after my 19th birthday, because her father used to beat the shit out of me.  He cracked a vertebrae in my neck and I decided that saving my life and having my daughter grow up with her mother, was more important than trying to make that relationship work.

Two other quick notes on that (not that you deserve it you asshole or bitch) but I feel very blessed to have had her so young because my grandfather got to meet her, before he passed away when she was three months old and also, I would never regret having my daughter, NO MATTER MY FUCKING AGE.

Being a single mom is difficult, as a teenager, it’s worse.  So fuck you and your self-righteous attitude.  You don’t fucking know me.

Second of all, let me address you telling me that I still act like I’m in high school for putting out on the first date.  Again, you don’t fucking know me.  I go out on lots of dates where there is no chemistry, no kissing let alone sex.  But how fucking boring is that story and why in the world would I feel the need to blog about those.

You want to judge me for putting out on the first date?  Fine, go ahead.  But it is really easy to hide behind a keyboard and throw stones.

Here’s a little fact about me that you probably don’t have any fucking clue on, or maybe because it doesn’t fit in to you theory of me, you just don’t pay attention.  I slept with my ex husband on the first date.  We were married for 10 years and he is still one of my best friends.  And before you get all carried away, I was the one who asked for the divorce.

So yes, you mother fucker, whoever the fuck you are, you go ahead and think whatever the fuck you want about me.

I survived a violently abusive relationship.

I was a single mom as a teenager and raised the best child possible.  She doesn’t drink, smoke or have sex.  She’s got a full time job and pays her own bills.

I was married to a man who I have been able to maintain a friendship with, even though the marriage didn’t work.

I am not perfect.  Never have claimed to be.

I don’t always make the right decisions.  I have never claimed too.

I love sex.  I am not ashamed of that.

I am not pushing E for a relationship.  If you paid attention, you fucking asshole, you would know that.


This will be the last thought and the last bit of attention you ever get from me.


When Did Sex Become A Normal Outcome?

I work with a lady who, by her words, is almost 60.  She’ll be 58 in November.  Her husband turned 59 in June.

They have been together since she was 14.  Yes, you read that right.  FOURTEEN.

He was newly 16, when the met and started “dating”.  He had previously been with another girl, but for a little over 43 years, they have been the only one the other has been with.  (Well, to the best of her knowledge)

I know them as a couple and individually, and let me tell you, I’m convinced that they were clearly put on this Earth to be together and complete each other.  I have not one doubt.

She’s a good friend to me.  An amazing woman and friend.  However, the problem with talking to her about dating in 2015 and the douche bags I tend to meet, is that she has absolutely NO clue how to help me.  She can’t imagine dating in this day and age and dealing with the complications and pain that come with it.

She asked me why meetings and dates always ended in sex.  Or usually.  First, I assured her that I was not the only one who did this.  Second, I told her that I didn’t know.  There could be several reasons.


I firmly believe this is a huge reason sex happens so often on a first meeting.  You meet someone online and go through the hours and days of communicating through text.  You find out all kinds of stuff about this person, what they enjoy doing, what types of food they like, what their worst nightmare was as a kid.  They ask for a picture, you giggle and say “what kind of picture?”.  They send back the smiling devil emoji.

By the time you actually meet someone, you know their entire life story, what position they prefer during sex and you’ve probably heard them brag about their skills, orally or otherwise.  You feel like you know them and sex is the next step.


Because most good stories start with alcohol consumption.

A lot of times when you meet someone for the first time, you decide to have alcohol.  It isn’t a bad idea.  I do it.  It relaxes you and lets your guard come down a little bit.  In my case, it throws my guard out the fucking window and then runs it over, twice.

When I’m drinking and my inhibitions are lowered, if the kisses are good and he’s attractive, chances are, I’ll put out.  I KNOW it’s not a decision to be proud of, but I’m honest.


I have a lot of insecurities.  I will not go in to them, because I think they are probably the same across the board for most women.

BUT, I know that sex is something I’m good at.

I don’t know if deep down, I think I can win them over with it or feel like I should get mine before things go horribly wrong.

I told my friend that when I was a teenager, I used to get butterflies from the thought of a first kiss.  And to be honest, I still do.  There can be something so magical about the first kiss, if it’s good.

But now, it seems like sex has become the norm.  Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I am just easy.  It just seems like sex has become as common as a hand shake, a hug or a first kiss.