Unforgiven.

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7

A positive test isn’t enough. Asking for forgiveness isn’t either… he’s just gone. Unsubscribed from my blogs even. Ouch.

More than gone, I wonder if I ever knew him to begin with. We had four days in paradise and one night in hell, and he can only be angry at me. The text messages are crushing. He can only tell me I’ve ruined my daughters life by what happened. He can’t understand. He can’t forgive. He can’t even open himself up to the idea of it all.

He can’t. He’s angry, and he hates me, and he can’t understand that this is something that happened to both of us. He feels I painted his pain in a light too friendly to myself.

I tell him the same thing every time.

J- I love you. I’m so sorry. If I could turn back time I would and none of this would have happened. If I could fix this, I would do anything.

His story changes on a dime, and he has no idea what happened any more than I do. He’s too proud to get a drug test, of that much, I know for sure.

It was magic…with a few major red flags.

He wasn’t at the airport when I got there… which floored my mom when I told her.

M- Honey as nervous as you were, you’d have slept in your car in the airport parking lot to make sure to be there when he landed.

He became someone else when he drank. Someone else entirely. Aggressive, flirtatious, disrespectful… Scary. The first time I’ve been truly regretful of getting in the car with someone. He smiled at me and took his glasses off and put them in the center console. I was in a flat panic…. but we made it back alright. He snapped his fingers and clapped for the waiter. He hit on other women, walking away from me to approach them. Hanging out with Tommy was no picnic.

Totally opposite of the knight in shining armor he was during the day. Something I tried to reconcile with him but he was just mad we’d come back early and wouldn’t talk to me. Second to last night we were there.

Everything was fine in the morning and we weren’t out of bed until after noon. Agreeing to a truce to the all-out war in the sheets neither of us were willing to tap out of. Best sex of my life- hands down.

Intimate conversations that will forever make me love him. I love a different man than the one he’s become so quickly. Mistakes aren’t optional with him and no matter what I’ve said or done it’s not enough. I would do more, but I’ve done it all.

All he can do is shame me, and tell me to look at my daughter and know that I killed her when I killed him, and that our love meant nothing to me.

I don’t know where to go with that…

Because I didn’t stop loving him, and I did what I could to get to the bottom of the whole nightmare… and I simply can’t do another thing besides let him go.

It was like Haley’s Comet in my love life. Here and gone in a flash… but changing the landscape nonetheless. He made me want more… and he loved me like none other. It was amazing- and I still smile when I look at the pictures… and I refuse to regret him. I miss him constantly… but the him that would have been right there and worried about me. The man who held my hand while we walked down the street. The man I kissed at the end of the pier on our last night. I miss him desperately.

But he’s gone…. and I’m left wondering if he were ever really there. I’m not his 6′ blonde 20 year old self-proclaimed type. I’m a curvy 5’4 if I’m an inch… perhaps he was disappointed and took the easy way out? My boyfriend died that night. He vanished right in front of my eyes.

In his place is the other victim in this situation. He can’t forgive me and he has every right, but the counselor I spoke to was very clear about it.

C- You can’t get over this until you quit being blamed for everything. This ruined your relationship, you paid a huge price and this was done to you too.

I hear this from everyone but him. He’s the only one who can’t get past it or forgive me. As is his right. He’s just gone… like a ghost… or a shooting star that blazed through my life. Either way it changed me and I learned valuable lessons.

My friends look at me and ask the real questions…

F- So you don’t know any of his people. No mutual friends, just online and gone? He met you elsewhere so he didn’t have to claim you if it didn’t work out. Easily discarded. Maybe he’s just looking at this as an opportunity for an easy break because he doesn’t have it in him? No other guy would act like this otherwise, and definitely not one who prides himself on being protective and masculine. You’ve got proof and you were together and neither remember much. Come on…

F2- I’m sorry, but you don’t need saving. You’re a damn good mom and you’re just fine by yourself. Isn’t that what attracted him to you in the first place? That girl full of moxie that pulls up her big girl panties every once in a while and puts her foot down? Where are your feet, for fuck’s sake?

F3- Remember, Romeo and Juliet only met like, three times, and he probably would have been a douche bag, and now they’re both dead.

LMFAO… this is what I mean when I say I’m blessed.

Raw love wrapped in hugs and kisses from the people who love me truly. Words carefully chosen to remind me of what I already do.

I’m ok.

He’s ok.

We’re ok.

We’re just not meant to be.

Things were fine and funny…silly and sexy… and in one split second- over.

Whoa.

Preconceived Notions…

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8

I’m always amused by the people who read my blog and think it’s a description of my character or even a shadow of who I really am.

I’m especially bemused by the people who believe everything they read. I’d be willing to bet these are the same folks that watch Fox news.

This is my verbal exhale, my wordy little cathartic playground. Play nice or fuck off. Yeah… that’s how it is.

I couldn’t care less if you’re critical, judgmental or hell-bent to dislike me. Go ahead- drink your big ol’ glass of Hater-ade and keep on reading. If anything you inspire me to be spicy…just to get under your skin and piss you off.

I’m an amazing woman. I’m a great daughter, a happy mommy and so very much more than a bunch of words typed in anger, sadness, disappointment… or even joy, love and hope.

If I’m going to be judged by anyone? It’ll be by the people I love and care about that I choose to have in my personal life. If you know me personally? Then none of this comes as a surprise.

I’m the one that leaves dinner on your doorstep, takes your kids when you’re sick and knits your mom a hat when she has cancer and all her hair falls out. True story.

I love deeply… I forgive quickly… and I do not carry a grudge. I move through my life with respect to everyone and everything around me. I say nice things. I do nice things. I believe in Karma before all else, and if you think for a second that I don’t judge myself a million times harder than anyone? Think again.

There’s a lot you’ll never know about me, because for as much as I share… I am intensely private and constantly concerned about hurting someone’s feelings. I don’t like it when people dislike me- and I will go to the ends of the earth to apologize when I’m wrong.

My mother told me nearly every day as a child… “To err is human, to forgive, divine”. We were browbeaten with the golden rule & taught to help, love & nurture the people and things in our lives.

So shoot me if I’m a bit of a vixen behind closed doors… shouldn’t every fantastic woman be?

I’ve put my trust where it wasn’t valued, and I’ve shared my heartache with the masses. If that makes me a bad person in your eyes then I apologize for your inept holier than thou attitude… OH and I have a list of guys I’d love to set you up on a date with… <snicker>…

I’ve made turning the other cheek an art form and have learned to keep my chin up even as the water flooded in up to my pearl-clad earlobes.

I’m a woman, Phenomenally… Phenomenal woman, that’s me. – Maya Angelou

Feeling a little sensitive this morning, obviously… and definitely annoyed that people still waste time judging anyone else- but whatev… If it’s one thing I’ve learned by blogging, it’s that you can’t please everyone, and sometimes it’s just a lot more fun to tell someone to kick rocks, plus I’m pretty good at burning the verbal house down.

Would life be any fun if we were all the same? No. Would it be better if I wasn’t outspoken? No. Should I give a fuck what anyone thinks? No. That’s their shit- not mine.

I happen to think I’m pretty sweet. I think you’d have a hard time arguing with me if you were a friend of mine, or loved by me. In fact, I know this- because I make an effort to really truly love the people I’m blessed to have in my life.

All of whom would go to the ends of the Earth for me, because I’d do the same.

Some things you don’t know- and should… because obviously I care what you think even though I wish I didn’t, lol….

~ I’m a sentimental hoarder. I save all the art projects, all the report cards, etc… that my children have made. My favorites are laminated… ya know… because they’re my most priceless possessions. I have a china cabinet in my living room full of homemade “treasures”. People look in it and laugh… but if the house caught on fire I’d risk my life to save its contents.

~ I’ll hold your baby while you eat, even while I’m working. I’m that nice lady that refills your drink and charms your little monster long enough that you can eat hot food. Regardless of the tip or if it affects your opinion of me. I do it because I love little people and I’m a supermom.

~ I remember what your favorite color is, your favorite candy… your favorite flowers- because I’m thoughtful and I want you to have what you love on your birthday.

~ I write under pressure of a deadline because I’m writing a book and I would love to not have to ask “Would you like chips or fries with that” for the rest of my life. I look at the big picture, not the thumbnails. I care about the example I set for my children and though I’m proud that I’m able to support this crazy expensive household… it’s more important to me that they see me do what I love and what I enjoy because I want that for both of them.

~ Regardless of money being ridiculously tight- you can have my last $5 if you need it. I give freely with no expectation of the same being returned. I won’t hassle you to repay it- but if you don’t it will definitely be the last time. I’m nice, not stupid :)

~ I make heart shaped pancakes… and I’m so OCD I separate the batter so that some of them are pink and some of them are white… I know… it’s silly… but those are the little details that make me have a wonderful day….I don’t eat them. ♥

~ I feed the cat tuna fish and the dogs chicken and rice every once in a while… purely because I would be miserable if I had to eat the same old boring dry crunchies every day.

~ I put my extra pennies in the take-a-penny dish at the gas station.

I’m nice, dammit… and a blessing to have in your life if you’re so lucky.

So there.

Hmph…. I’m burning these damn people pleasing panties, once and for all.

If you can’t stand the heat…

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Then you ask me to password protect it ♥

It got the point across to whom it was intended to offend- and well… it takes a lot to bare your soul to the world, and the beauty of blogging is having the luxury of pulling the plug.

Write drunk, edit sober… even when you’re purely drunk on heartache. My Lovely friend was a little blown away by the instantaneous response. She’s still bleeding at the heart a little, and the betrayal is still so fresh. I love her so much, and I know how she’s feeling. You just have to suffer through the hell of it, unfortunately. Nothing much will help, other than time.

Men who juggle women deserve to get their balls ripped off… and verbally? I come pretty close. I’ve suffered through the worst of them, and I know all too well what disappointment and betrayal feel like. I think we all can relate… unfortunately.

He doesn’t take responsibility for it, in any situation. Cheaters are universal in that he will always blame something about you for why he couldn’t be faithful. I’ve learned a lot about the difference in men in the last year. There are two types. Assholes & Amazing. That’s the real black and white of it. He either gives a shit about his personal character and the quality of himself as a man… or he doesn’t.

If he doesn’t, then he juggles women dishonestly. He’s not concerned with his integrity or being true to his word. He’s selfish, and looking out for what you can do for him, not thinking for a second about who the man in your life should be. He knows you’re amazing… and that doesn’t even slow him down. He’s an Asshole, and I can spot one a mile away…. mostly because I’ve dated them so often. I’ve had my douche bag magnet removed and as a result, my standards have been raised to a nearly impossible super-human level.

I’ve been ruined for other men… because I’m a lucky girl who’s loved by Amazing.

Amazing calls. Amazing says exactly what he’s thinking/feeling/doing. He doesn’t have secrets because he doesn’t want you to keep any. He loves you deeply and out loud, without worrying about playing games… because it’s your heart he’s after and he’s determined to keep it. He doesn’t say mean things. He wakes you up with nice words and an undying desire to please you. Wherever you go in life, in any situation… when someone mentions him- you smile from your head to your toes. He can be late. He can forget to call…. but he doesn’t- because you mean the world to him and he’s determined to prove it every chance he gets.

But…

That whole Asshole thing can be attractive… a lesson taught to me repeatedly by a certain 25 year old I dated. I wasn’t used to having to convince someone to like or respect me. It’d always come naturally- because I’m so nice. I learned a lot from the situation and I can’t regret it… because when you’ve seen the worst of the worst? You learn what you aren’t willing to accept. You learn the real value of Amazing.

You know when you see it because it’s completely different from what you’ve seen before and it FEELS right.

It feels Amazing.

There are a lot of Assholes in Amazing clothing. A lot of them are difficult to spot… but for goodness sake when you find that you are the poor unsuspecting girl at the heart of the matter, surround yourself with your real friends.

Your real friends are the people that tell you what a douche bag he is, and beyond that? They tell him too. I have no time for friends in my life who want to befriend my exes. It’s a choice- make it- and be honest about it, because I’ll find out. I don’t tolerate disloyal people. I’ve filled my quota in the last year.

I’m too Amazing for all that. I’m too adored by Amazing and surrounded by Amazing friends. I’ve faced the heat and survived with a whole lot of wisdom to show for it. I’m focused on being as protective of myself as I am of my loved ones. I’m a damn fine woman and I’m finally acting like it. I’m also the friend you call to help you burn his house down, help you bury the body and bail you out, if need be.

I’m the friend who tells you the truth. I’m the friend that flips him off in your absence- because- in my opinion, everyone who loves you, should. I may end up sitting next to one of my friends in jail at some point, but I’ll never be the Judas who kisses the ass of the person who hurt her. There’s a lot of value in being a true friend, because it comes back to you a million times over.

Be Amazing…

There are plenty of assholes in the world. Don’t be a Mike.

Yeah you, Mike….aka “The Plate”

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Ohhhh Mikey… You’re going to learn a very big boy lesson right now. Us grown girls don’t fuck around and we do not take it lightly when you think for a second that you can make sad examples of our baby sisters. You have barked up the wrong tree this time, good old plate-man. Some of us don’t give a fuck what you’re capable of in bed. We care about your character…. of which you have none.

I just have one thing to say… She’s what… 20? Hmmm… Honestly? That’s so much easier to hide your bipolar alcoholism from. Way to go you…

She’s a poor man’s Lovely, and you know it…. but then we all do.

Yep… I’m not fucking nice…. and when you mess with the best? You mess with the meanest bitch with a keyboard in the Pacific Northwest…. but honey… you mess with her? You mess with the whole lot of us… and we love her enough to hang our bare asses out to make an even bigger ass of you.

Doubt me? I’m counting on it. Go ahead and try me… and I’ll lay your tiny little sad details bare… and you can walk around barefoot picking up the pathetic shards of your life while I laugh, point at you and mock your existence.

Umm hmmm… just ask the boys who’s unflattering nicknames highlight the tags on my blog…

I live to humiliate the worthy.

I work hard to empower the women I know are worth it… and this man? Not that he qualifies as a man… he deserves the shameful ass-handing he’s about to get.

Hi Mike… kiss, kiss… guess what? I never really liked you. I tolerated you because you meant something to someone I loved as much or more than I love than my sisters. Yep… you lucky piece of shit… you actually made it worthwhile to humiliate you, and I’ve taken a vow of angelic perfection.

My curls are hanging just right… my ruby red lips are smiling… and my darling boyfriend is out being better than you without even trying. Asleep… he has you beat.

Good game, high 5… Bitch…. and ohhh honey… don’t lie… cause I’m cataloging them and I will systematically destroy you publicly if you continue to contact my darling girl.

Though I’d love to know how you get out of these details… and I’d pay big bucks to be a fly on the wall if she reads it to you, looking for answers. Come on, tell me… cause I’m dying to know… Mikey doesn’t like it?

20 is fuckable… not permanent… lol… but then you knew that because you WILL NOT LEAVE MY LOVELY ALONE.

:) lol… go ahead… take it away my darling Lovely friend…..

Dear K,

I understand the discomfort in hearing from me, I’d be equally as uncomfortable if I’d gotten an email from you.

But I didn’t.

I was faced with the reality of you being a part of my boyfriend’s life when one of our close friends, G, broke down and cried the week after I got back from scattering my dad’s ashes in Hawaii. That was late October. It was the night that Mike crashed the boat and he called me. I was sitting on his couch, watching tv and we had plans the next day when he got back from elk hunting.

I had no idea you even existed in our relationship. I’m sorry if you’re equally as shocked right now. It is not my intention- I only know that if nobody had told me about you, I never would have known and would still be thinking about my future and life with him. We talked marriage .I have a close relationship with his son. We rode bikes around town and looked at houses for sale. We had two dogs together, Tanman and Tuck. We grew a garden together.  He built us a bed from his bare hands. I am sorry to share my pain with you, but you deserve the truth as much as I did.

Unfortunately… this hasn’t really ended between him and I. We are still sexually active. I’ve been intimate with him this week. He still expresses his love but he has told me it’s over between the two of you. He told me you’d found out about me and ended things.

One thing sticks in my mind though… he tells me always that if I really want to make him hate me, or end things forever, then I’ll tell you what’s going on.

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write, because I really truly love him. The facts on the ground are that it’s an unhealthy abusive relationship and I apologize if I’m hurting you to save myself, but it’s only right. You deserve the truth he worked so hard to hide from me. You deserve to know that I’m not just some crazy ex he’s labeled me as.

I’m quite Lovely. I have amazing friends who love me and a family that I go overboard to protect. I’m a good person and I have a good heart. I have had a rough year, but my heart and life are full. I am blessed to have people in my life who hold me accountable; and this is why I’m writing this letter to you today. I’m damn funny, and in any other circumstance my guess is that we might get along famously, and hell…. we are Eskimo sisters now. I’m sure you’re very nice too.

I’ve heard he takes you to the same places… and he probably says the same things. I’m sure you play with our dog and I heard you work at the animal hospital so I’m sure Tanner probably loves you… that is particularly painful because we made a choice together with regards to our future, one that I’m not part of like I used to be. So shoot me… I miss my dog and it sucks to think about someone else being the face he wakes up to.

I’ve done everything I could think of to avoid sending this to you- and frankly he threatens that if I said anything to you he’d simply fuck some other girl from the bar. This week, someone told me you are still very much a part of his life. I’ve asked, and he hasn’t mentioned you- so it was the same old shock, all over again. I realized that if I didn’t say something to you, I was just as culpable as Mike keeping you a secret from me. I know we were intimate with him at the same time because he’s admitted as much to me.

I’m sure you don’t like me. I’m positive you’ve been conditioned to think I’m some crazy ex girlfriend, just like I’ve been told you’re out of the picture.

You can call me if you want to talk to me. I completely understand if you don’t. The very sad truth of it all is that we both fell for the same guy and we both deserve more. He was my best friend and the love of my life… and one attempt to get over this whole nightmare was cutting up his deer over mimosas to “My Best Friend’s Wedding”… one of many examples of our attempts to make it all better and get back on track over the last few months.

Because years of love, heartache, absolute joy, and then total sadness have a way of making even the most inane moments feel so perfect. He seeks me out. I cave. I’m sorry if you have somehow been caught in the chaos of the unraveling of our relationship- but you deserve truth, if nothing else.

Perhaps I’m just the wrong girl, or perhaps it was all just a lesson and this is just a simple set of Cliff Notes for you to understand. Perhaps it just is, what it is. But… if nothing else… I believe you deserve the truth….and if the truth sets you free?  Then hey… You’re fucking welcome. :)

My number is ***-***-****. You can call or text me if you need. I have answers if you’re wanting them.

As for me? I just want you to know what I know.

-L

The online dating epilogue…

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Come on… sing with me first:

Blow the whistle, baby you’re the referee….

I blew my book deal on self respect. I couldn’t bear a few more dates with crazy men. Yeah… I’m saying I’m better than all that- so shoot me. It took a year of dating men I wouldn’t even give a second glance in the grocery store, to gain that level of confidence.

In my year of internet dating, I saw some crazy, crazy shit. Some of which is still locked tight in the draft section of my blog. Some of which will hopefully never see the light of day, because I’d hate to be sued by Match.com like Oprah was sued by the cattle industry for hating on a burger…. cause I could shut that shit down with what I know now.

Apparently (nobody told me) the whole internet dating fiasco is set up for some glorified hook up network.

So let me start by saying that NOT ONCE did I ever have sex with an internet date. Never. First and foremost because thou shalt not fuck weird ill-adjusted weirdos… but more than that?

I wasn’t even the slightest bit tempted, ever.

I saw it all, y’all…. and admittedly I began to hand-pick the crazies, so I deserved some strange experiences toward the end. I began to use my online dating as writing material towards the end of the crazy run, with a publishing group hot on my tail, begging me for just a few more every time I turned in more of my documented suffering.

I chose the weirdest of the weird- so I know just how bad it really is, when it’s at it’s worst. I was the wife-swap producer of Match.com. I systematically chose my opposites, sent a few emails and sat back to watch the trains collide.

I shook the ants in the jar, if you will…. and I never made it easy.

I pulled out my A game. I wore fishnets and heels. Fake eyelashes became second nature and the bleach in my hair was as common as the fake smile on my ruby red lips.

I was propositioned, hit on, flirted with, stalked, insulted, preached to, parented, offered a job, AND solicited for garden advice.

Welcome to dating, crazy internet division…. and not for the faint of heart.

I had a few uneventful pleasant dates… but honestly? It was more fun to date the crazies. I’d given my heart to a man determined to be unavailable, and if I had to pass the time missing him, I preferred to not hurt the innocent.

So I dated the guilty.

1. The extremely elderly appearing Delta pilot who swore he was in his 40′s… hmm…. perhaps 20 years ago…. brought his dog along on our date and let it run around the restaurant. For the manner police, that’s right up there with robbing a bank on the way. I was too mortified to really hear what he was saying. He brought his homemade jerky and it damn near ripped a filling out. Goodness. When he made the awkward attempt to kiss me goodnight, I actually ducked and thanked God at the same time that he was so tall. Out loud.

2. I have a few favorites… but this guy was right up there. The wild African game hunter/ bible beating baptist. My favorite hand picked opposite-do-NOT-attract lunatic. He actually asked me how I felt about “Our Lord and savior, Jesus Christ” before my salad showed up. I understand being passionate. I understand deal breakers…. but come on Grandpa missionery… have some respect for privacy. I told him about my favorite magnet… and it was our only date. One of the only dates I ever left early.

I have a very private relationship with God. I don’t buy a lot of it…. but… I love being Catholic. I have strong Mormon roots. You can take the girl out of Utah but you can never really take the bee out of the hive. It feels like home when I go back… yet I’m far too outspoken to thrive there.

I’m genetically Mormon, raised Buddhist and Catholic by choice. Three details absolutely predetermined to annoy the Bible beating crazy wild animal hunting Baptist. The writing was on the wall, but for the first time, I told a date I was not interested in continuing the date. I told him I was leaving…. and I did.

Slowly… these weirdos taught me to speak up… and how to stand up for myself.

3. My date last Valentine’s Day was beyond crazy. He let me pick a restaurant, and met me there for dinner. He had two dozen white roses in his hands. I must have had a deer in the headlights look on my face because he hugged me hello with them in between us, shoving them towards me. He was about a foot shorter than he’d said… but was attractive and nice. Ish. Something was just…. suspect. He was completely wonderful. Impeccable manners, ordered for both of us- sigh… Hispanic maybe? I don’t know. With the exception of the awkward pile of roses on the bar next to me (he forgot to make a reservation)… it wasn’t that bad. Goose on the rocks X2… and he was pretty nice. He asked me if I wanted to get a drink after dinner and I agreed. He took the roses from me and grabbed my hand on the way to the car. Nice enough- ok… it seemed normal, if a little… early. Whatever. He opened my door- handed me the flowers. and shut it… nice touch. I was impressed. Shiny white Mercedes sends up a red flag… he’s in his late twenties, early thirties… which is awfully young for that sort of debt… I don’t know- I’ve learned too much in doing this for a year… I’m being judgey. He drives around the corner to the martini bar and parks.

I don’t really have time to silently chastise myself for jumping to assumptions before he practically rapes my face with his mouth. I could feel his teeth a half inch from my lips. My word. His hand reached for my thighs and I grabbed his wrist. He was insistent and for the first time in this whole escapade… I was afraid. I was thankful my friends were only a few steps away, and reached for the door handle while holding his wrist to keep it from creeping any higher. Yikes. I sent the preplanned “HELP” text and I was done with him in a matter of 20 minutes.

The fun part?

Two weeks later, I get a call from a screaming lunatic wife… his wife. The wife that wants to know why he has a credit card receipt for two on Valentine’s day, and my number on the roses he bought.

He bought her a vacuum… and frankly I’d trade her… but she was a little too ballistic to chat about a trade. Think of the look on his face if he came home and saw those roses though… lol… I’m mean like that when it comes to cheaters.

She kept insulting me so I told her the absolute details of our conversations, plans, date, and the face rape/mouth attack that occurred in the car. Bad idea… one mention of the car and the lady went over the deep end. I honestly expected to see his face on the news the next day- she was that irate. She thanked me and hung up… I got one text from him later that said “Thanks A LOT!” lol… uh… you’re welcome, Cheater McFaceRaperPants.

I truly have seen it all. I avoided the hippie faction after the last bad time- but other than that… I went on 18 dates.

18 First Dates… never a second… and granted I live in a small town, but I’m the nicest person in the world when it comes to accepting people for who and what they are. As long as you’re not an asshole- you are A OK with me. Let your freak flags fly however you like- I like unusual people.

But these weren’t unusual people. These were crazy people. Creepy sometimes. Scary sometimes. Always weird.

I am an internet dating flunkie- and it wasn’t for lack of interest. I put myself out there and my profile was viewed thousands of times… I got hundreds of emails… and sorted them carefully at times and recklessly at others.

You have to like someone to consider being romantically involved with them. You can’t do that with someone based on a photographs and some cheese-ball fill-in-the-blanks profile. You have to get to know them first… and most of the serial internet daters are all about the hook up.

I’ve seen the stories, read the news… etc. My aunt recently got engaged to someone she met online.

I fell in love at first write…  I come from a place of experience… I know it’s possible.

It does exist… but it’s not meant to be prepackaged and force fed. Figure out if he has a soul first and if you like it. Figure out who he is. BE CAREFUL.

Allow yourself to fall in love with the way he thinks…

But only if he does.

Oh and good luck…. you’ll need it.

….and thank the good Lord & Baby Jesus that my days on the online menu are over. <shudder>

Don’t even get me started on the Naked Man, the Police officer who ran my plates to get my phone number, and last, but not least…Dr. Cocktail Linky- who sent me pictures of his 2″ wang and continues to come in every Wednesday, without fail… sometimes with his wife and kids too. Oh my…

To quote one of my best guys, and the best advice I ever ignored…

~Get thine ass off the internet~