Well hi there… I’m Jenni.

Face and everything… yikers. Don’t buy the smile… I’m really quite sad this morning.

I have an amazing knack for putting myself in situations that result in me feeling worse, and thankfully- enough brains to get out of them, even when that makes me even sadder.

This sort of shit reminds me to remember who I am.

I’m fucking funny. Make you laugh till you puke, funny. Especially if I’m making fun of myself. Which perhaps explains why I keep putting myself in situations destined to hurt me? Who knows.

I’m the best friend you could ever have, and the worst enemy.

I cook and bake like Betty. As in Crocker. I spoil the people I love with their favorite things. I’m ridiculously thoughtful.

I’m pretty… and flirtatious. More than that? I’m nice. I say and do nice things. I’m a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold AND sexually? I cripple a man and rock a mean blow job. Proudly.

I fly a few fingers in the direction of anyone who judges me for being exactly what I am. Read back a ways… I burned my people pleaser panties.

I have a lot of friends who love me dearly. I’m adored by amazing people. I can handle a few enemies…hell, when people you don’t know hate you? You’re famous.

A dear friend posted this on my “wall” the other day:

That about sums it up.

I’m a great mother, with amazing kids. I’m already sewing my daughters Halloween costume. I already have Christmas presents in the closet. I’m that mom. The cool one. The one who sews things so you believe in Santa forever.

I learned to let shit go this year…. more out of trial by fire, but sheesh… at least I learned. I realized how unimportant the garden was, and how very little I missed the stupid Farmer’s market all summer. I fell in love with Saturday mornings with my daughter.

I trusted a lot of the wrong people, and made a bunch of new close friends. I learned how to tell the difference… though not when it comes to dating.

I really dated some assholes. My word. I still really leave myself open to being hurt all over again.

I refuse to be bitter. I refuse to carry bags from one relationship into another.

I refuse to be limited by my past failures.

As a result…

I cry a lot… lol 🙂

I laugh a lot… and I get my heart broken equally as much.

I fall in love too quickly and I trust too freely. I’m a walking target for mean men.

I love Coach bags and hate spiders… and know how to fix the hot tub, the lawnmower and the tires on a car. I’ve had to learn how to be completely self sufficient, and I’m delighted that I can both install a new light fixture and sew anything I want. When it comes to women, I’m exceedingly well rounded.

I’m also really fed up. Really tired of gossip and drama. Tired of feeling lied to or misled or just unappreciated in general. Tired of hearing about it.

More than anything? Tired that there’s anything TO hear.

When does it get easy and when does it benefit you to be nice? I don’t like being a bitch… and I prefer being happy.

So… hi…. how are you? Got a joke to tell me or something funny? You read my journal… so I figured it’s fair to ask you to cheer me up, tell me something I need to hear or just slay me with truth.

I’m discouraged on an epic level this morning…


Sometimes words fail me. Sometimes I’m struck stone cold silent.

Sometimes there’s only one word that falls from my mouth.


With “The Conversation” looming, I did what any terrified crushing girl would do. I broke out the girlie gear.

Mini-skirt… creamy white silky shirt…. no bra.

Absolutely exploiting every asset I have. Shamelessly.

Dreading and anticipating his arrival…. and biting my lip watching him drive up to pick me up.


He’s grinning at me. All signs are good… but my heart is racing and I’m avoiding looking at him.Ugh… I’m acting like a nervous little idiot- biting on my acrylic fingernails even…

I really like him. It’s really nice to date an adult- and someone who I thoroughly enjoy hanging out with. He’s funny,  is only too happy to spend a day watching football,  AND he can cook? Shares my tattoo habit?

Duh. No wonder I’m freaking out.  He’s steadily falling into every category on my He-Who wish list.

No sign of “The Conversation” and he’s indulging me with foodie porn, the Food Truck show… running his beautiful hands up and down my legs, holding my hands. Ahhhh. Damn it I like him. He smiles at me, runs a hand just under the edge of my skirt and I feel the temperature in the room go up.

I grin at him… and he looks stunned. Horrified. Pale even. I watched the color drain from his face and thought Oh… fuck… here it comes.

He’s not looking at me, he’s looking over my shoulder.

C- Well hello.

There’s a tall woman walking from the back door to the living room, where we’re sitting.

I’m confused.

She’s furious.

He’s squirming….

W- What is this? What is going on here? Are you cheating on me again??????

I’m instantly aware that my little whory outfit designed to get me out of “The Conversation” is painting me as quite the nightmare for this woman.

It doesn’t help that my thighs are across his lap and his hand is half covered by my skirt. Awesome.

W- Jenni, are you seeing him?

Holy shit she knows my name.

Someone has officially gotten herself out of “The Conversation”.

She’s looking at me and I’m stunned silent. I can’t speak. I can’t answer her.

C- You don’t have to answer her.

I can’t speak to him either.

But the worst part…..

Is that I’m fighting back laughter. Seriously. This woman is fucking mad and I know if I start laughing, shit is going to go CRAZY. So I did the only thing I could think TO do…. and got up and went to the bathroom to avoid listening to him negotiating her out of the house.

One word falls from my mouth…

J- Wow.

I couldn’t pee. I was too shocked to washed my hands…. I just sat down and let it hit me for a minute.

Hearing a knock on the door sends me into a panic.

My first inclination is not to answer it. I loathe drama and I just fell into an ocean of it. Ok, perhaps I jumped a little…

I open the door and it’s him, looking positively mortified.

C- 5 minutes, I’m so sorry. Please let me explain.

I nod and he goes outside to deal with her. I’m honestly a little horrified at myself…. because I’m not surprised and not totally offended either.

I like truth…. and it just smacked me right on my sanctimonious ass.

Realistically, I could find myself in this same situation. I know how to juggle. I have plenty of broken heart karma. I so deserve this moment.

He walks in and he just looks horrified.

And I burst out laughing. I couldn’t contain it any more.

C- I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. I’ll take you home- you probably want to kill me.

J- Actually? I think it’s kind of hysterical. It’s real life. Life is messy. Wow… that was epic.

C- Oh my god. Why are you ok? You’re still here? You don’t hate me? Why are you ok with this?

J- Ouch- I can go. No offense but everybody warned me about you. Things just got really real right there. It certainly presents an opportunity for you to tell me the truth. I’m used to this.

C- No, no, no, I don’t want you to go. I am so sorry. I am not with her. I swear. That’s terrible, I’m sorry. Do you want to know what my first thought was?

J- Of course.

C- All I could think was… “Well…. she wont have writers block tomorrow”

J- Oh this is blog gold. You have to know you’re ending up there tomorrow. Perhaps it’s time to have that conversation.

C- I have commitment issues, clearly.

J- This is exclusive or I’m not interested… or it goes both ways and I’ll date other people too.

He just looks stunned.

Is that really so crazy?

It seems awfully reasonable, if you ask me. If you’ve just met someone, and it’s not a girlfriend/boyfriend situation yet, don’t you sort of expect or at least assume that it’s not exclusive?

Isn’t that why it’s a big deal when he pops the “will you be my girlfriend” question?

I like a lot of things about him, but clearly there are some not so lovely details.

I’m not lily white and I don’t claim to be. I’m confident in my sexuality and the bottom line is…

Life is messy…sometimes in painful ways that present opportunities to get real, get honest… and change your perception of yourself.

I don’t envy him that moment and I’ve certainly put myself in situations that would entitle me to that same experience.

I felt horrible for the poor girl- and was SO thankful this was his shit hitting the fan, and not mine.

It didn’t change how I feel about him because I’ve grown up. I realize that having expectations only guarantees you’ll be disappointed at some point. It’s new. It’s early. It’s… nice.

Well… at least up to the point other women crash our dates.

Definitely one for the record books.