A walk on the Samantha side of life

Like many women, I fancy myself much more like Carrie than any of the other Sex in the City women (hence the moniker) but I think that most of us have a little Charlotte and Miranda in us as well...It is what made the show work...that we could see ourselves in each of the characters, and, if we are being completely honest, we all either have a teensy bit of Samantha hidden in there somewhere, or at least we wished we did.  She is the one who, with careless abandon, really goes after what she wants and says pfft (well, the much more sophisticated version of pfft) to the consequences.  She also looks at sex much more the way men do, as a form of release, entertainment, something to be enjoyed and not stress about, fretted over, regretted, dissected and all of the other "ed's" we as women do.  Yes, society frowns on women who look at multiple partners as just their version of the Vegas Bellagio buffet line...so many choices, but worth every bite.  And, really, I wouldn't want to live my life like that anyhow...although, I do make it a point to get to the Bellagio at least every other Vegas visit.

As we all know, I've been having a hard time the past few weeks trying to figure out why Jersey Shore all of a sudden stopped texting (even though he wasn't what I wanted), why Hot Electrician doesn't want me to help him rewire anything and why G.I. Joe hasn't hopped on a plane to fly 3000 miles to ask me to dinner...okay, I haven't really been losing sleep over any of the above but I have been a little preoccupied with the why of my current no plus one status. And, truly, I do believe a lot of the angst was hormonally induced.  Maybe if I weren't feeling the need for physical interaction I'd be more able to see life clearly and not be waiting for The Situation's cousin to text me silliness that will lead to nowhere. 

Fortunately, a longtime FWB had been hinting at, heck out and out asking for, some time for us to get together, and well, have sex.  Over the past 2+years he has been an amazing friend and really, the last guy I did have sex with (over a year ago!).  He is absolutely gorgeous but not at all what I'd ever want to date...a fact I realized very early in our friendship. But, he thinks I'm hot, is fun for a quick lunch date every now and then and really, is incredible in bed.  I had blown off the past few invites because I really wasn't in the mood for sex with no brain activity involved.  While I'm not expecting a guy to make my brain as hot as my body just to do the horizontal mambo with him, I do want to feel like there is a chance for something more.  And, with Mr. 24 Hr Fitness, this was not the case. 

However, as I contemplated my cloudy disposition over the lack of Mr. Right in my life, I decided maybe a little hormonal brain cleansing was not a bad idea.  So, before I could lose my nerve, I texted him on the first day I felt like I looked hot enough to be fun with a "Well, wanna?" and well, he wanted.  And, well, when you aren't trying to impress someone with your wit, your charm, your bedroom skills, while also trying to look 15 pounds lighter with no stretch marks, sex is really a lot easier!  We laughed, we talked, we had great sex and, in the grand scheme of things, it worked.  I felt sexy, independent and ready to take on the world...

But, of course, the world is a lot larger than his queen size bed and the reality of my life didn't really change.  And, for a moment, I started to get depressed, but then I realized something even more important.  The reason the glow of mind blowing sex faded was because I have finally moved on to where I do want more.  And, by more, I don't mean with a fly in visit from Jersey Shore or anyone else who doesn't really want me.  I am ready for the man who knows what he has in me and will be strong enough to see it and hold on. 

We all look at Samantha with a touch of longing because we do know our minds and our hearts get involved when we have sex...and well, I for one, wouldn't have it any other way.

Obviously in need of wine...not whine

Warning! This blog contains material not suited for the annoyingly happy or newly in love (wait, aren’t those the same?) as I am feeling a little blue. Granted, I look really good in blue…totally brings out the eyes, which is why I chose blue shirts for the year I was president of that famous festival. Yes, yes, I digress which is really bugging me because it makes it hard for me to stay grumpy. And, for some reason, grumpy has been the mood of the day.


Well, if I’m being totally honest, and why not, it’s a blog, not dinner with my dad, I know why I’m grumpy…I’m just not proud of the reason. I’m feeling sorry for myself! There, I said it, I’m being a pathetic, hormone crazed, wah wah me, chick! And, what is worse, I am doing it over a man…or to be more accurate, the lack of a really good man! Now, doesn’t that make you just want to shoot me?

And, really, my visits to Pityland never last long, and since I know so many people are dealing with real life problems right now I promise this trip won’t even require an overnight bag. This will just be a short commuter flight trip to lament on the fact I definitely seem to be sending off the wrong vibe or that maybe, just maybe I’ve lost my touch. I realize Mr. Jersey Shore said I was sexy…but he also said he had been separated for 2 years and yeah, not so sure that is the case, so all comments from him are now questionable. And, maybe that is also the problem…sexy is good…but I also want to be cute, fun, date able!

Therein lies my dilemma…I have met men…you’ve read about it…but I’m either not meeting the right men or it isn’t at the right time in their lives for me! Hot Electrician is a good man, and yes, hot…just not in the dating single moms with a penchant for basketball tournaments phase. Mr. GI Joe is a very good man…just not in a phase to date, well, anyone! And, well, yes, pretty sure the heat in Jersey Shore’s kitchen isn’t what I’m looking for.

Yes, I’m content and live a very busy life…2 amazing kids, 2 neurotic adorable dogs, great friends, tons of community work, job I’m good at…wait, again, why am I grumpy?! Oh yeah, because there isn’t a guy to make me wonder if I look good, whose annoying habits I have to overlook, whose call I stress about not coming in…Again, I know, I know…it isn’t all it is cracked up to be…

Seriously, I just think we are wired to be part of a couple and right now that wiring is shorting out a bit…reminding me of my current situation. I will be fine, and I will be back to being the over the top aging cheerleader (with enough cynicism to make me palatable) that I normally am.

I do thank you for humoring my mood though. I see a full then empty then full wine glass in my future.

Who needs the Kardashians?

As someone who doesn't watch the show it is very easy for me to be baffled by the allure.  I can not figure out what exactly is so enthralling about a family of wanna be celebrities whose lives often seem like narrowly avoided train crashes.  However, I was reminded one night during our trip that you don't have to be the offspring of OJ's attorney to have drama that could be fodder for TMZ.  So, maybe that is why I don't watch the shows...I just live them.  (well, not nearly that exciting but hey, considering I found a dead mouse in my washing machine tonight, I consider anything that doesn't involve floating rodents a plus).

One of the incredible blessings in my life is the foundation of amazing friends who look out for and care about me...the ones who are with me for my crazy adventures, the ones who understand my eye rolls and catty texts about my former husband and Amazon GF and the ones who have known and loved me since I was 13 years old and just want me to be happy...especially if that means my happiness finds me living south of the Mason Dixon line.  For months now my bff and I have been exchanging goofy messages that could have been written at the beginning of our friendship for the silliness they included.  The poor unwitting subject of these messages being the newly separated father of one of her daughter's best friends.  And, really, on paper (and in pictures) he is perfect...definitely fits more of "The List's" characteristics than Mr. Jersey Shore.  However, small problem...he has no idea who I am nor is he anywhere near being ready to move on.

But, let's not let those minor details mar what otherwise is a flawless plan...yeah, this plan is so full of holes it could be Swiss Cheese but again, why sweat the small stuff.  So, we forged on and told G.I. Joe that I was going to be in town and that he should swing by for a quick hi...incredibly low key, casual and no pressure.  This seemed like a brilliant idea when it was just going to be a few of us (including his kids who would be there).  Well, by the time the poor guy showed up, so had 10+ members of extended family and friends.  I guess I should mention that the not quite yet ex wife of G.I.Joe is now secretly dating my bff's brother-in-law so when I saw the house was full of family, it was really full of the enemy in his mind.  Of course, none of this was the fault of anyone in the room but it certainly didn't set the stage for the meeting of the eyes and chemistry click movies are made of.

Granted, no one expected a love match...or even a date but the thought he might like a friend who understands his plight definitely crossed our minds.  A friend, who happened to be cute, around his age, who he might eventually decide was the woman of his dreams...wait, did I write that?  I meant just someone he could talk to!  But, as it turns out, I think the only thing on his mind that night was how to extricate himself from the situation as quickly as etiquette would allow.  And, really, who could blame him?  The unintentional mentions of the aforementioned brother-in-law were even making my bff and I look at each other with complete WTF expressions.  Could this get any more awkward?! 

Needless to say, no digits were exchanged that night...but don't worry, I did not despair.  If the experiences of the past 2 years have taught me nothing else, I have learned to just live the life I have been given at that moment.  That isn't saying I don't want more at some point but yearning for something isn't going to make it so.  What I can do is continue to open myself up to new experiences and see where it leads.  If I don't, I may miss out on the story of a lifetime. 

3 tickets to Adventureland please...

As the kids and I boarded the plane last week for our end of summer East Coast adventure I was hit with a number of emotions…”Phew, we made it through security okay.”, “Crap, why didn’t I get a prescription for Xanax before we left, I hate to fly!” “Please God don’t let that woman with the 2 screaming kids and overflowing backpack of junk sit near us” and “By cocktail hour today I will be on EST with a Kir Royale in hand…aahhh”. Fortunately, by now, you all know I think and emote as fast as I talk so all of those fragments of thought zipped through my brain in the time it took me to pour my small (too small) bottle of Bailey’s into my pseudo Starbucks coffee cup. First sip down and we were off…to a land where I relax more, talk slower (and with a little more sass in my twang) and believe one day I will end up living again.


As this was a trip the kids had been talking about for months, we definitely had agendas filled with must see items in our nation’s capital city. The kids have been a few times so we continue to check things off our list while also ensuring we have time to visit family and friends. Granted, the time is never long enough and the visits never frequent enough but I have found this year that combining sweet tea fixes with new adventures at home has made me miss Alex much less…to the point of being almost ready to handle the impending marriage announcement I know that must be in their future. To assure you I'm not completely naive, that announcement will also require a trip to BevMo but really, so does a conversation with my mother so in the grand scheme of things, not so bad. However, my point is, while my bank account could probably handle less trips, my psyche has definitely benefited.

Of course, my life wouldn’t be my life if there weren’t a little unreal thrown in so the adventure of getting a phone call at 11pm on our first night from my brother and his family who had gotten a flat tire leaving DC after dinner with us started it off right. My dad and I left the kids with my stepmother and took off in his upscale SUV to rescue the stranded crew. By rescue I mean he had his AAA card out and was prepared to use it. As I had already climbed into bed by the time the call came in, I threw on a pair of sweats, my “Basketball Mom” t-shirt and blinged out flip flops and we were off. When we arrived at the Secret Service check point in front of the White House (yes, this is where they were stuck) my nieces were in great need of a bathroom. We sent my sister-in-law and the girls off to the 4 star hotel across the street and we waited with my 18 month old nephew sleeping in the stroller. To add to the excitement, my youngest niece had broken her flip flops and I decided walking into the Willard hotel barefoot at midnight looking for a bathroom could send the wrong message so I now was sans shoes. At dawn on the day in question I was dressed to kill in a white halter dress, jeweled and Farah-haired out and now I was barefoot, in sweats and pushing a stroller along Independence Avenue…my, how the mighty have fallen. I have to admit though I was a little distressed that I obviously was not pulling off the destitute mom act as not one person walking by threw me any change. It could be that I was pushing the stroller right next to a new model Infiniti but still, a token contribution would have just added to the evening.

As anyone in my family can attest, we don’t know how to fix things, we know how to get things fixed so with a hit of the hammer and a quick tire change by Pongo (yes!) from AAA, crisis was averted and I was ready for the next adventure…with my blinged out flip flops, of course!

Again, I’d have nothing to write about if my life weren’t, well,…my life!

Gone are the days of party line telephone calls

What ever happened to a group of girlfriends sitting around giving advice to one another about love, dating, outfits, etc...? Isn’t that how my blog moniker gained fame anyhow? From classy women who drank Cosmos and dished about their latest escapades while wearing the latest in New York fashion?  When did technology replace the hair salon for all the advice and dirt we need? Granted, this question seems a little ironic coming from someone who writes a blog about her crazy daily escapades but that kind of illustrates my point. In this era of non stop technological advances, advice from all sides has taken on a whole new meaning.

Case in point, as we know, I indulged in a little Jersey Italian fun this past weekend…but that, of course, did not just happen organically. I guess it could have, but it also included tweets, Facebook posts, emails and even some cross continent multi-generational Skyping…not kidding!

As festival weekend is usually pretty insane in my world, I send out a blanket invitation to family that they can stay at my house but don’t expect to see me and a bag of Oreos is probably about the extent of the food they will find…a far stretch from the Southern hospitality they are used to when they visit. However, because my family loves me, they get it and this weekend my aunt, as well as my sister and family were crashed at Casa de Crazy. I guess at some point the discussion turned toward the lack of a male companion in my life so my sister jokingly tasked my 62 year old aunt with “finding me a man”. She took the job seriously and after watching the two of us interact on/off stage texted me with a “he’s hot” message…”let’s do something about that.” Okay, because before she pointed that out through the help of Verizon, I wasn’t so sure the looks, the touches, the “are you married” question was leading anywhere. But, no worries, I don’t care who takes credit as long as it ended with me getting a kiss.

As my aunt was my date for a party that evening that Jersey Shore would be attending, she and I did the mad rush getting ready together. Although, it wasn’t just the two of us as she had been busy Skyping with her boyfriend in Germany. He, too, wanted to get in on the advice action, so had been encouraging her to take her own car…just in case I did get lucky. Pause! Just because the two of you AARP members are busier than the Bud Girls at a Nascar race, it doesn’t mean the rest of us are itching to get busy between the sheets. Well, I was but that is beside the point!

Of course, as it turns out, the two cars could have come in handy but it worked out just fine. I brought my aunt home and ran in the house to do a little freshening up. Of course, that also involved the bi-continental Skype time. As I’m running around, fluffing up the hair, yes, surveying the underwear choice, grabbing a bottle of wine…I’m also getting “Tell her to make sure he’s nice. Is she going to stay at the hotel with him? Why the wine? What kind of guy is he?” Hmm….I don’t know! He seems nice, the wine is because well, I’m 20 pounds overweight, haven’t had a guy see me naked in well, forever, and I need to fortitude and he’s the kind of guy who is hot! Okay, maybe if I’d answered these questions a little more carefully I wouldn’t have written the post I did earlier about needing to have my wires checked. But, that isn’t what I was thinking about each time I passed her laptop, perched on the kitchen counter, with the two of them making googly eyes at one another. Please let me get out of here before they start turning up the heat themselves!  We've all seen "It's Complicated"...sometimes video chats leave waaaay less to the imagination than one needs.

Really, the fact that my family (all of them) care so much about my life means every thing to me. I am content, and not a complete basket case, because of them. Their support has gotten me through quite a bit the last two years and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Just at that moment, when all of my insecurities were competing with the excitement of a new adventure, I just wasn’t sure I was ready for it to go viral. But again, this is me, writing about it, in my blog, so I guess I’ll just go with it…

Faulty wiring

I realize this isn’t news, nor is it even a surprise, but it is one of those things I think bears repeating…men and women are different. I know, hold onto your wine glasses, that was groundbreaking material. But, truly, with each and every new experience with the hairier (you hope) sex, I am reminded of how we are just wired differently. And, while, I wouldn’t trade our sense of style, taste or amazing shoes to switch teams, I wouldn’t mind having their ability to compartmentalize emotion vs. pure lust just every once in a while. We women talk a good game about being in it for the fun of it, or being able to handle the whole friends with benefits concept but really, who are we kidding?! We know, two kisses in with a hottie and we are picking china patterns. (or at least picturing long weekend getaways and stolen whispers about tomorrow while men are thinking “what time is the game tomorrow? Do I need more beer?”


I have been struck with this desire to have a circuitry overload because, even though the other ½ of the double trouble duo, warned me I knew what I was getting into, I am having a hard time not wanting more. Okay, more of what is probably a fair question at this point as I haven’t written about this yet. Just remember, I’m 42, single and have been on a dry spell lately!

We know this past weekend was the annual adrenaline rush for me at the festival I’m involved in and this year the rush came from more than just the random flirting and fun innuendos with other volunteers as I became acquainted with one of our celebrity talents we bring in for the weekend. Remember my list of 20+ characteristics of the perfect guy? Well, forget those as he didn’t fit into any of them but boy was he hot! As I said to a friend at one point (when I was just in the admiring phase) “he is my kind of yummy”. And, I guess the CA/VA blond with a slight twang did it for this Jersey Shore boy as he went out of his way to flirt his way into me spending several hours after the event with him…(yes, in his hotel room). Now, before you label me as Samantha, instead of Carrie, I still didn’t have sex with him. Why? I don’t know! I somehow think going back to his hotel room and messing around is okay, after knowing him 10 hours but actual sex, no, that is off limits. Yes, I’m a freak!

Now, of course is when the dilemma sets in. During two different visits at his hotel, 2 days with him at the festival and lots of fun smiles in between, I was cool as a cucumber…content with my life, not looking to be swept off my feet, okay with the completely different lives we lead…and really, all of that is true. But, now that he has flown back to the other coast, and I’m coming off the adrenaline rush of the weekend, my coolness has warmed just a tad and I’m stuck with wondering if he’ll get bored of me (if he isn’t already) before I do him. Yes, a very healthy way to start the day, I know!

Why do women (or is it just me) wake up wondering if he thought about them during the night? Why do we assume he is “a player” without any real proof? And, why, do we make our stomachs hurt wondering if we’ll hear from him? I’ve always been the one to do the leaving (as you’ve read about in here) but for some reason my confidence/ego isn’t as healthy as it has been in the past. Does that start to go along with the perky boobs, hot butt and eyesight? If so, I’m now pissed! I like my sassy side!

Well, since I’m pretty sure the local plastic surgeon specializes in implants and liposuction, not chemical lobotomies, I guess I’m stuck with being a chick in this instance. Note to self: avoid sappy movies, romance novels and ice cream for the next few weeks. 

It's all about the Bad Boys...

What is it about just the image of a "Bad Boy" that has normally sane, level headed, put together women tossing their Coach purses (okay, putting them away nicely in their special bag covers) to the side and throwing on the jeans, tank tops, hot heels ready to take a walk on the wild side? Now don't shake your head and act like you don't know what I'm talking about.  You know there is at least one man on "your list" that either rides a motorcycle in his leather jacket or has long hair and more than his fair share of tattoos.  He is the guy your mother warned you about (well, not my mother...she warned me about rich Republicans out to destroy the world as we know it...but again, she's different) but the one you still thought was hot.  I know, unfortunately, I have had several of these type of men on my "ooh baby" list.  And, at 42, wouldn't one think I'd have learned my lesson by now?  But, why!  Sometimes bad really can be good.  See, it is that type of justification that gets me into trouble every time.

In the midst of our festival craziness, the same group of friends who seem to be included in most of my more memorable evenings, decided we should go see Kid Rock in concert.  He could be the poster child for today's Bad Boy.  Obviously he is not at all in the classically handsome category by any stretch but for some reason the combination of his hard core lyrics, his kiss my a** attitude and the abs from, oh my gosh, heaven and really you have the stuff suburban housewives (and their divorced friends) dream about.  Granted, I was not as ready to rush the stage as my lemon drop friend (remember her from Whiskey Creek) but my increased heart rate did get me to thinking about why women do this.  Why do we fall for the very ones we shouldn't? I know Barnes & Noble has an entire section devoted to the stupid choices women make but I don't think we need that much space. 

I think it is a physical thing...really!  I look at one of these men with the tough guy attitude and think "yeah, he's going to give me what I need" without ever thinking long term.  You see no holds barred great sex in your future but know there will not be a bouquet of flowers this next day to thank you for the fun.  You'll be sore but satisfied.  And, I guess every once in a while that is not a bad thing.  But unfortunately, we, as women, don't think on such practical terms.  We usually think like the lyrics from my favorite cowboy "I may be a real bad boy but baby I'm a real good man".  It is a song, ladies!  Probably written by a woman! 

I am reminding myself of these facts and trying to apply logic to any choice I make in the near future.  I know I need a man with quite the tough side...but it needs to be balanced as well.  And, until then, I know how to daydream.

Not the sugar daddy I had in mind

Be careful what you wish for!  We've all heard that saying and almost always rolled our eyes and thought "what in the world could be wrong with what I'm wishing"...well, darn it, it's true!  To be honest, I've never actually wished for a Sugar Daddy.  I've joked about it.  I've wondered what it would be like to have an older man think I should just be showered with bling.  But, wish is a stretch.  However, I think this past week, I almost received a proposition to have someone be just that...or at least very close to it.  And, people wonder why I started a blog!

2 years ago, during the foggy time in my life, I was also experiencing one of the best times of my life, as president of the festival I so greatly love.  Well, through that role I had a few different TV/radio spots I had to participate in.  Oh yeah, me and microphone...go figure!  One of these gigs (biz lingo, you know) was in San Francisco so a few of us rode up with a car/driver supplied by our media guy.  The driver was the owner of the company and private security consultant and very nice.  I thought he must have been a big fan of The American President because he complimented my feet as being "absolutely perfect".  While President Andrew Sheppard learned to compliment a woman's shoes,  I figured Mr. BodyGuard just got the concept a little wrong. Well, guess not!  But, I thought nothing of it and moved on.

Fast forward 2 years and I am again asked to do a spot for a regional talk show and Mr. Body Guard will be driving us to the city (I brought my daughter, not knowing how fortuitous this was at the time).  As we are getting into the car, I jokingly say "Good thing I just got a pedicure because I know how particular you are about feet"...and I laugh.  The man is 15 years older than me so I don't think this is dangerous territory at all.  Until he responds with...I like looking at your feet, as well as the rest of you too and then closes the car door for me.  Okay...it is going to be an interesting ride.

He immediately gets my daughter all set up with a movie on his iPhone with headphones and begins to ask if I'm still single. He understands that when Alex and I first broke up I wasn't ready for anything (hmmm??? this is relevant to our drive into SF how?) but that is when he was separated from his wife so too bad our timing was off.  He went on to tell me that, if nothing else, he would have shown me a good time.  Again, "what?!?"  First, you are talking about protecting Paris Hilton at some trendy LA club and now I should be sorry because you are now back with your wife...although if I was interested in being your travel partner ("she's not really into travel") you need a companion for you 100 day long motorcycle ride to Sturgis.  Oh yes, please pick me! Nothing would make me happier than being the side dish on the back of a motorcycle trip that involves camping, I think.  And, again, at least 15 years older than me (although he thought I was 5 years younger than I actually am so again, ewww!) and while I imagine he could take good care of me, not what I had in mind.

Of course, traffic was horrendous that day so what could have been just a long 2 hours in the car turned into an oh my gosh, I'm seriously considering jumping out of the window kind of experience. Fortunately, my daughter's movie ended and I immediately said "NO!" when asked whether or not she wanted to watch another one.  I know I should be flattered that some aging Kevin Costner/Whitney Houston movie character thinks I'm the bees knees and could make me happy, but I just can't do it.  I think I'll continue to take my chances on the unmarried, non foot fetish, closer to my age pool of applicants. Wow!