The high cost of shitty women


Yeah you bitch, I’m coming for you today.

Tossing and turning in my big empty bed, railing at the world for the current mess I’ve made of my head and heart- I’m left shaking my head at how sensitive I’m being. Finally firing off “That” text to my Incredighost. The one we all sit on our hands to stop ourselves from sending. He responded instantly and I realize he isn’t just a basic man- he’s a broken one. It kills me because I know what an amazing man he really is and I really like him.

We love to sit around with our girlfriends and cackle about the depressing state of the common single man these days, but do we ever ask ourselves how they got that way? Do we ever take responsibility? I’m no saint and I’ve committed my fair share of transgressions. I always apologized and I’m on pretty good terms with most of my exes but I’m sure I left a few dents along my selfish way.

I’ve never outdone the douchebags I’ve loved so I took myself out of the pool for 5 years.

I’m now swimming in men who’ve been lied to, cheated on, let down and disrespected. It’s a murky puddle of brokenhearted good guys,gone wrong. Shitty, irresponsible women are absolutely the reason this pond is so stagnant and full of bottom-feeders.

That guy you strung along because you were lonely? Yeah he’s torturing the woman who loves him, now. Good job, asshole.

That man you cheated on? Yeah he’s bleeding internally and denying himself basic happiness while juggling women. You’re a real cunt.

That guy you nickled and dimed to death because you like to be “spoiled”? Yeah he only goes dutch now and he’s never going to find love again. You’re a fucking dick for leaving this guy with a quirk weird enough that it’s cockblocking him years later.

That guy you ghosted? Yeah he’s ghosting me now and I’d like to kick you squarely in the vagina. Would it have KILLED you to send him a damn text? No.

That guy you lied to has a repertoire to rival the best con men, now. You armed him with all the tools to mislead the masses and now he’s breaking hearts and promises at breakneck speed. The karmafairy will even this one out and I don’t envy you the bad man you’re going to end up with as a result.

It’s easy to get caught up in your own feelings but when you damage a person for life and future relationships, you fucking suck.

We are not innocent in the state of the manfolk these days. I was talking to my favorite lesbian last night and told her I was just going to start dating women exclusively and she laughed at me.

T- Oh babydoll, you’d find the same things in different packaging.

We are just as bad and in some cases, even worse. We made these bad men and as single women, now we get to try to rectify another woman’s bullshit behavior or clearcut through the scar tissue she left behind.

Is it terrible that I want to slip into my nurses costume from Halloween a few years ago and help him heal what hurts, while simultaneously smacking the woman that broke my favorite penis?


We aren’t all bad and neither are they, but we do have to take responsibility for the few we contributed to the murky depths of the swamp.

Go tend your garden.

Are you sitting down?

If you aren’t, I’ll give you a minute to find a cozy seat.

Yeah? Ready?


Go tend your garden.

Unrealistic woman.

Indeed. Ha ha ha ha haaaa ha ah ahahhaha ahahah .

I want to fly to Florida to see my favorite lady and have this tattooed on. I have been in tears laughing since I got his text.

Then an even better idea hit me.


Go Tend Your Garden

Because I don’t get offended anymore, I just have to seek the humor in it. Dating is absolute misery and if I had my way, I wouldn’t do it… but I had to go and open goddamn Pandora’s box… and now I want a boyfriend.

Being high on great sex does terrible things to your brain. I realize I’m not making choices with a clear head, but here I am… evolving nonetheless.

I don’t want dial a dick, as it turns out. After 5 years of celibacy, it has been spectacular to get laid again, soundly- and I hail the blessed Incredicock, but it’s fall, y’all. Time for dinner, a movie and some sort of consistent sex life.


Because that fantasy of him, a plate of perfect bacon, a bucket of ice cold beer and hours of uninterrupted… … … football?

Well that shit can’t happen if you don’t stop seeking love in the wrong place, and you know when you are. I had to admit it and I hate it, but it is what it is.

He’s just not that into me, and it took my entire, torturous thirties to learn to recognize when that is the case. Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away, it just makes it blow up beyond the point of no return. We all know. Better to face it with the grace of a woman and not the grief of a child. It was fun, now it’s not, the end. Huge bummer? Yep, now turn the page.

You can’t win if you don’t play and if you don’t get out there and dent yourself a little, you’ll never learn what you really want and what really makes you happy. You have to invest yourself, even if you walk away with a few scars as a result.

I go all in. I don’t leave any feelings out and I am not afraid of much. I’m happy alone, but it turns out that I miss intimacy and I’m not cut out for being treated like an automated vagina.

I’m just not that girl. I make marshmallows & shit. I can hold my own in a room full of amazing women and I’ve fought hard for that realization.

I tried. Damn it. It was amazing and I have no regrets.

Well maybe one. It has been a while since I tended my garden.



Technology is amazing, but this is some next level kink.

I get requests occasionally to review products and I just don’t want to go down that road. I don’t want to sell anything here so I send all requests to my spam folder. I never check it, but I was missing an important email and found myself looking through the trash.

Which is where I saw this.


So I bought one, immediately. Nora came in a lovely little box on the day my playmate was coming over. Exxxxxxciting. I sent him the login info and gave him long distance access. What a wonderful thing to be alive in the age of Bluetooth sex toys. whoa

I sort of forgot about it after that, because if it’s one thing I don’t need when he’s in my sheets, it’s a vibrator. Remember that amazing erection your high school boyfriend had, that you took for granted? If anything will get me back to church, it’s all the thanks I give to God for the stainless steel he shares with me.

The highlight reel has my subconscious on edge and I’m biting my lip to keep from begging him for more, when the idea hits…

J- Hey… go log in.

He may be at work, watching football, out fishing with the guys,  but with a few clicks, he has full control and I’m struggling to text him back because every time he texts me through the app, Nora bestows another orgasm upon me.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph… he’s even satisfying, remotely. Also, this may be the best money I’ve ever spent.

Image result for martha stewart it's a good thing gif

Ill Intentions

Admittedly, I went into this date knowing it was a horrible idea. I did not set myself up for failure, but I didn’t exactly go into it with any level of hope for success. If I’m going to be completely honest- I’m craving a bakers dozen with Incredicock, a few beers and a day full of football.



However, I’m bored and have a few hours to kill without my small. So I got my shit together and painted a happy face on. He’s pretty, and I’m taking him to the home of the best damn cornbread you can imagine. Everything else is kind of bad, but oh well. A date is a date, and I’m guaranteed not to see anyone I know at this less than noteworthy establishment.

I hate the parking lot meet up, so I made sure to beat him to the table by 10 minutes. He was late.

I was pleasantly surprised because he is every bit as delicious as his picture implies. Those green eyes are sparkly beautiful and he wore a tie without prompting. Men get a bad wrap for being heathens. I see a necktie on a man and my thoughts are distinctly impure.

He smiles a little too long. He kissed my cheek with intention. His lips were wet. Ewwww…..

I resisted the urge to wipe my cheek and smiled brightly instead. Ever the accommodating date. I ordered a stiff chocolate milk and wished I were engaged in sexual warfare with Incredicock instead. De-fucking-pressing.

Yet here we are, so fuck it. When in Rome and shit.

P- I like your lips.

J- Well that’s nice of you to say. How was your day?

P- It was really long for a Saturday, but they aren’t usually as hard as it was today.

Excuse me while I slit my wrists in the bathroom. If he thinks his thinly veiled sexual innuendo is escaping me, somebody needs to send him a link.

I’m shooting the server some imploring looks. Hit me with some specials. Anything. Just help. She stops and asks if we have any questions or she can bring us anything. I’ve endured some soup and my cornbread is gone. I’m desperate to escape.

P- The check, sweetheart.

My blood runs cold.

J- Pretty sure she’s not your sweetheart.

P- So are we gonna fuck or not?

I took a deep breath and sent my sister a 911.

J- Or not.

P- You like me. You know you want to.

I don’t. This is when I started shooting out hail Mary’s like my beloved Brett Favre. HELP. CALL ME. I started browsing Facebook to see who was online.

My Songbird came to my rescue, immediately.

S- Hurry! The baby is projectile vomiting, come home now! I tried to clean it up but she’s still throwing up.

P- Sick kid? Really?

He followed me to pay the bill and had an insistent hand on my elbow.

Still more Hail Mary’s thrown to my sister and her delightful dude, who call me next. Speakerphone, because I’m offended and annoyed.

D- Babe, can you come home now, please?

J- Yes honey, I’m on my way.

D- Baby I’m serious. I need you to hurry.

I grinned and laughed out loud, unable to help it.

His wide eyed silence allowed me to blow a kiss and fly out the door.

I give up. I retire.

If you need me, I’ll be knitting chastity belts and praying that a lovely lesbian is going to walk her beautiful ass up my driveway.

Dick isn’t worth the headache.

The Ex Factor


As always, what I lack in the men in my life, I more than make up for in the friends I have. To be honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I was married for 7 years and did another 7 years of hard time with the dirty boat stealing loser. I’ve done my time in captivity and have fought hard to attain this blissful level of independence.

Also, I’m allergic to engagement rings.

I don’t mind cleaning up after the people I created, but that’s where I draw the line. I don’t want men’s clothes hanging in my closet and I have no time for finding the toilet seat up.

I have a plumber, an electrician and a man who removes my snow before the sun rises.

I only need a man for one thing.

So when I found myself with a friend willing to let me borrow his body for a few hours, I was as delighted as you can imagine. A little too wordy though. I didn’t think about the few friends I have that read my blog when I word vomited about finally shaking off the 5 years of celibacy.

With a friend’s ex. Something I just don’t do.

It turns out, you bitches have been holding out on me.


Five of you have contacted me, thus far. I heard from a friend I’ve been missing for years.

C- Hey a girl can hope.

J- Is that a green light?

C- That’s an invitation. You should know a few things first, though.

I have a veritable ex-wife welcoming committee. Friends winking at me at the grocery store, endorsing the men they discarded.


Ok so some of the endorsements haven’t been so glowing. In my defense this is the first time I have knowingly gone down this road and I am awfully flattered that you’re all so helpful in rubber stamping my hesitation away.

I told you all I was posting your messages and outing you for the holdouts you are. When a voicemail comes chiming in…

T- Gurrrrrrl, if Matt can fuck like that and didn’t, I’m gonna divorce him a second time. Bite him for me. No hard feelings. Call me, love you- bye!

All this time I’ve been knitting and canning myself into submission and all I needed to do was round up my ex-wife posse.