This is what I like about Saturday mornings – the ability to sit and enjoy a cup of tea, the newspaper, the sunshine on my own, without having to consider anybody else’s schedule.  This of course is only possible when one is single! I did have the option of going out on Friday night, sharing a few drinks and possibly a strange bed, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t have to. I chose, I decided that I wanted my Saturday morning all to myself, without the hangover, without trying to find my underwear, my way home, my excuse.  I chose this Saturday morning for me. 

Saturday night, however, may be an entirely different story!

Last night I had an epiphanous moment as I realized that my young “snuggle-buddy” will only and ever be just that. It was sort of a sad moment, as I become aware that I’m not prepared to see another one through a major transition of life. He’s just turning 29 and still has that major hurdle of crossing over to the third decade of life. I’ve done it, I’ve seen a few partners through it and I’m not prepared or even wiling to go it again. It’s like contemplating a return to adolescence – and who wants to revisit those times! I also feel this about my 20s. As exciting and dynamic as they were, I’ve had my anxiety attacks and dealt with turning 30 and got my career underway and I finally figured out what is important to me. And now I’m ready to be with somebody who is already self-actualized, knows themselves, has travelled through life a little and knows the backroads (…my passport is ready and my bag is packed!) I suppose I’ll have to let my s-b in on my thoughts – maybe we can just be “friends”.

So what does “Back In the Game” really mean? Dating? Casual Sex? One Night Stands? Serial Short Term Monogamy? Hunting Down Mr. Right? I suppose I have to define my terms and write my own rules – but what are they? What happens if I am dancing with my “snuggle-buddy” but then get some totally amazing eye contact followed by a slow, sexy smile from the bartender, complete with a neck tattoo, over the shoulder of my dance partner? What’s the protocol? My buddy is nice, but this guy is HOT! My s-b has got his hands all over me but all I want to do is hop the bar and lick that raw sex tatty! Yikes! Social decorum must come into play somehow – it’s rude to leave one guy you’re dancing with and stick your tongue down another’s throat just because the moment moves you… right? On the other hand, I’ve just left a dried up, dead and blown away relationship and I need some F-U-N! I suppose bad behaviour can never really be excused, though- but really I’m so horny, I almost can’t reel myself in at times…and should I have to? Life is for living, seize the moment, live for the now, don’t look back (hmm how many other overused, tired metaphors can I cram in here?) But the point is that I don’t want to sacrifice any more of my precious time on ventures that don’t entirely captivate me. And captivated I wish to be! Maybe that should be my first rule: If you’re captivated move ahead one space, if not, miss a turn.

Out of one bed and into another in the same weekend! My girlfriends think I have some SuperGirl power to attract cute, available and nice guys – but really how can I say “no” after two months of zero action from one emotionally bereft boyfriend? So this weekend I moved out of the shared apartment and the cold, lonely bed (read: emotionally bereft boyfriend MIA for the past 4 weeks) and happily accepted an invitation to join warmer climes. Slipping under the covers with a new body isn’t the easiest thing to do after three and a half years of blissful monogamy – but after a night of dancing, pink martinis and a cigarette with kick…well, let’s just say for this newly single girl, it was the perfect combination! The details? In short, fantastically amazing! He was There For Me All Night Long and it was nothing like I’ve ever experienced before! It was as if he already knew his way around my body, he knew just what to do and when and for how long. Delerious hours seemed to pass and every time I thought we were ready to actually sleep, he’d turn to me, fully and completely ready to go again! I was tumbled, tossed and turned inside out. And in the morning – I felt like a polished penny with a big shiny smile…outward appearances notwithstanding (this is what I remember as being one of the many small tribulations that being single, and “active” encompasses: having to look sexy upon waking without a hint of morning breath, smudged mascara or anything else to detract from your complete and utter fuckability. Does this still hold once your passed thirty? Is there some forgiveness achieved in knowing and respecting the human factor? I’m not sure – all I do know is that it’s time to buy some new lingerie, makeup and a pair of sexy shoes because I’m back in the game!

Dear Blog,

I’m sitting at work, watching the clock and wondering if Friday night will ever arrive….nothing new in the lives of the working stiffs, I realize- but I really want to move out of that apartment! I drove by my martyr of an ex-boyfriend this morning sleeping in his car outside the park! Who does that? I think he is trying to guilt me into getting back together with him. He thinks I’m being selfish wanting to have children and using him as a “sperm bank”. A term which he used, and continues to use because he feels that I don’t love him anymore but he’s the one who changed his mind for fucksake! Let’s get the guilt trip straight!

And speaking of trips….I have been invited to spend the month of August in Argentina with somebody I barely know… (well, we did have a hardcore snuggling session last Saturday night, but that hardly is enough to know if you want to travel with someone! That’s a serious commitment!)

G4

Dear Blog,

I forgot to mention last weekend. It all started with a glass of white wine at my girlfriend’s house. That led to another which led to the urge to go out. So we did. We met up with a few friends at a local club. A few more cocktails, a shot of tequila and glow sticks to adorn ourselves with and we were ready to hit the dance floor. While I was in the middle of losing myself to the music, somebody grabbed the glow stick I had stuck in my back pocket. I caught of glimpse of the glowing green stick hovering above my head attached to a small hand and a slim arm. She had swimmingly dark eyes and a fantastically cheeky smile. Clearly this girl wanted to play – and so it was on. All night long that glow stick passed back and forth between us; dancing all over each other pretending it was the glowing green plastic we wanted. I remember running my hands down the length of her body and thinking O my god, am I really doing this? She was so incredibly delicious it was impossible to keep my hands off of her. When she pressed her body against mine in a vain attempt to reclaim the glow stick, I kissed her. I kissed her to the thumping of the music and the pounding of the blood. She was a tiny little thing with a crazy energy and a sexy Spanish accent. And she kissed me back. Passionate, hot, wet and urgent. My first real girl kiss. It was awesome!

G4

Dear Blog,

It’s been a long, hard month of crying, not eating, not sleeping and generally feeling like I’ve lost the plot. However, as this month as trundled on, I have managed to get a few clear ideas of what I need to do. I’m an eternal optimist and somewhere, somehow the sun is always shining. So, I’ve got my stuff packed and ready to move out today and it’s really surprising how little I have. I guess I’ve stayed true to my nomadic, gypsy self and have succeeded in traveling lightly through life. It makes leaving all that much easier. Not to mention the fact that one of my girlfriends has also just exited a relationship and we’ve decided to rent an apartment by the beach. You can bet the sun shines there! A little bit Sex in the City, a little bit Girls Gone Wild – should be interesting.

Signing off,

G4