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30

Sep

Wanted: “Desperately seeking a Talented Serial Monogamist: Must be kind, lovely, romantic, but always in transit. Requires not more than two sleepovers a week. Candidate must have a strong command of the written and spoken word. A glorious sense of humor and generous, adventurous spirit are vital. Large shoes are helpful, but not required. This is a temporary, part-time assignment, but could work in to a permanent full-time position.”

It’s been 4 weeks since I kissed someone.  It’s been 13 months since I kissed someone, I didn’t end up regretting.  It’s been 19 months since my since I heard the words “I Love You” . Probably 22 months since he meant it, I can only guess. …and 3 months until the Curse of The Pompous Clerk is lifted.   

I miss having someone in my bed all night.  I love daybreak with a warm body next to me.  I love it best when ‘I am’ what ‘he wants’ to ‘wake up to’.

 Don’t you just love it when a man tells you he stayed up all night watching you sleep?  (Or at least lie and say he did.) 

I wouldn’t know for sure…If everything…ahem, went according to plan…(wink, wink) I’m out cold.  If I’m not, he didn’t do his job and I deserve an Oscar.

I am not sure why getting a man to sleep with me in my bed is so difficult…I am assuming the words of an underwear clerk on New Years Eve…”Whom ever doesn’t bleep on New Years Eve doesn’t bleep all year.”  May have something to do with it. 

I am not sure why men hoot, holler, stare, flirt and sometimes ask for a number, but seldom court a woman.  I can’t for the life of me understand why you would waist your time getting a woman’s attention then never bother following up.  

In Italian, the word “pensi” means “think”…which is strikingly similar to the word “penis”…Universally men tend to think with their ‘penis’…I believe this observation carries it’s own weight and no further words are necessary.

Imagine being asked out on a second date a week in advance.  You are looking forward to it.  This is a strikingly handsome person.  He was a perfect gentleman you first date.  Didn’t even try to hold your hand.  You exchange messages by text and chat.  A phone call or two, then hours before your “date” he sends this message…”I can’t wait to have you in my bed! :)  Yes, he added a smiley face. 

Shocked you hope he is kidding, or it’s a mistake… You text back.  “What?!  I’m confused.”  “Well then, let me be clear.’ He writes, ‘ When I get you alone, something wonderful is going to happen.” 

“Well then let me be clear.’ I responded, ‘I am sure you are- your kind of “wonderful”, but I am not sure that- you’re my kind of “wonderful”.  So, unless you are completely sure you can lead me to feel the sort passion that renders me incapable of holding back, then follow that up with an experience I will not soon forget, nor regret, your not ready for this league.”  I haven’t heard from him since.  I guess he wasn’t, sigh…he just wasn’t ready. 

Over the last few months I have observed this again and again.   Even in business.  Can you imagine being hired by a team of research surgeons, asked to do a mountain of work, travel to different cities for meetings that required overnight stays and late dinners, only to be told a month into the project that the grant money didn’t come in.

Neither could I… until it happened.  So now I am back to square one, looking for work… again.

Thinking with ones penis, lends itself to missing out on so much.  For instance…That young buck, never got to find out that I am loyal friend, a good listener, make incredible waffles, and BLEEP like a nymphomaniac on death row. 

I have decided, ‘till at least New Years Eve 2012, to give up men.   After all, they are the most frustrating form of entertainment.  I will finish my book on tragic love stories.  I will finish a screenplay I started seven years ago. I will look for a job. I will enjoy my family and friends. I will enjoy me.  I will hike and bike and practice yoga on the beach at sunrise.  I will enjoy the ghost-of-a-town- this tourist attraction I live in-becomes and I will age gracefully one more year, alone… and I will learn to like it. 

 

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