The King and I

I know it’s been a few months since my last post. Honestly I just haven’t had time. I’m back in school and focused squarely on myself. Working full-time and taking a full-time course load in college. A lot has transpired since my last post though.

So I was seeing the Babe all summer, completely sure that he was the one for me. We had fantastic weekends full of kids, friends and fun. Then things started to change. I’m not sure if it was me, him or a combination of both but this is what I saw and how I felt.

Something changed in him, he wasn’t happy anymore. Our time was becoming limited because of my schedule and our kids were back in school. We also live almost 50 minutes apart. I admit I wasn’t available and I wasn’t really willing to sacrifice either. I’m focused on school and my future career. He kept telling me I know it’s tough, I did it too. I know how you feel, I know what it’s like; well, NO you don’t. I know you went to college and graduate school but did you go as a single parent with two teenagers at home and another in college? Did you have a home that you had to keep up and groceries to buy for those kids? Did you work full-time too? NO? Well then you don’t know. It became annoying, plain and simple. He had this fantasy that we would be this perfect family and he would take care of me. I’m not that girl! I don’t NEED anyone to take care of me, I don’t want that. I want someone who inspires me. The straw was a comment he made. He said “I won’t make it through you going to school as your boyfriend, only as your husband”. Ouch! It felt like an ultimatum and made me feel like I wasn’t worth the sacrifice. It makes me sad but I know I did the right thing for him and his daughter, even more important…me.

There was another issue too. It’s no secret that I had my heart broken and certainly no secret that I have made some colossal mistakes in dating. However there was always the King quietly hanging in the background. I’ve very briefly mentioned him before. He’s a friend but we did date for a short period. It was right after QJ broke my heart, like literally right after! We dated for maybe a couple of months. I was so tormented and fucked up at that time in my life, it ended in dramatic fashion.

Here’s the thing, that was almost two years ago. Ever since then no matter how much I’ve pushed him away, no matter if I never responded to his texts or didn’t return his calls, even when his son was in the hospital, he knew I was a mess and broken; but he understood. For some reason when he text me in late August, I responded; I hadn’t spoken to him in about 5 months. He immediately called me and we talked for a couple of hours about everything, like we had never stopped talking. That was never an issue with us.

I was having a drink with my girlfriends one night and he walked in, sat with us and we all had a great time. He kissed me goodbye, nothing more than a peck on the lips but it felt different from just a friendly kiss. I broke up with Babe the next day. Not because of the King but because if Babe was the one, I wouldn’t have felt anything when he kissed me and with all the other issues with Babe, I just knew it needed to end.

The King and I (punny) are still just friends and will more than likely remain just friends (too complicated to explain). He did however open my eyes that Babe wasn’t the right man for me. He also gave me a little tough love recently when he pointed out; I keep making excuses for not finishing anything in my life. Ahhhh, the balance and inspiration I crave from a friend? Maybe? After the King bluntly called me out; I kicked my butt in gear and got my applications into school. I’ve been accepted into the nursing program and I start those classes a year from January. In the mean time I’m almost done with my associates in science and will continue to take classes full-time, working toward my ultimate goal of becoming  a Cardiac Perfusionist with no excuses. Damn I hate it when I’m called out but grateful for the honesty.

I’m happier than I’ve been in years. Even with the loss of another relationship.


People Are Strange

I’m aware that I chose a provocative title for my blog and it doesn’t necessarily reflect the content of the material.  So I try not to be offended by the search inquiries that bring people to my site. However some of the things people search are funny and some of it is downright disturbing.

WordPress (my blog host) provides statistics on site visits etc… One of the things it provides is the search terms. Yes I get the terms you type into Google, Bing or whatever search engine you’re using, provided in my site statistics. Here’s a list of the top 15 with some advice attached. These are direct quotes spelling and grammar mistakes included.

1.  “g spots restaurant little people” – WTF? I know little people have g spots too but why are you looking for a restaurant in relation to that?

2.  “burning pain in gspot, legs and feet” – I have NO idea how those three areas are burning but you need more than Google’s help.

3.  “my husband is straight how do I find his g spot” — Ummm after you somehow convince him he’s not gay because you are entering his exit only; it’s about 2.5 inches in and toward his abdominal wall.  You might wanna take an anatomy class and cut your nails.

4.  “When I touch my girlfriends g spot she feels like she wants to wee” – Congratulations you found the Holy Grail stay in that spot for a while, trust me she wont wee.

5.  “Upside down hits the g spot everytime” – I’ll be trying that tonight.

6.  “do ass whole has g spot” – Grammar, grammar, grammar. No the WHOLE ass does not have a g spot.

7.  “self sex for men g spot” – They have toys for that…

8.  “g spot summer dinner” – Strawberries and whipped cream?

9.  “how good is the shocker” – Pretty damn good.

10.  “i got a brazilian and its burning” – No shit!

11.  “what does it mean when a guy says he never found your g spot” – Means he is single.

12.  “I’m just looking for a little slap & tickle” – Aren’t we all.

13.  “horse pee rainbow tattoo” Huhhhh??? How do those words go together on a Google search? And if it’s out there I wanna see that tattoo.

14.  “is it a boil or my g-spot?” Ewwww pretty sure if you’re searching that question, it’s not your gspot.

15.  “does monkey butt work for razor burn?”  I really hope you’re talking about the powder…

Now the disturbing….  For all you mother-effers out there searching things like; little girls g spot or my daughter’s g spot. YOU ARE OFFICIALLY ON NOTICE. I am in the process of finding out if you can be tracked down, don’t know if it’s possible yet but damn it I’m gonna try.



Giddy Up!!

I know I’ve been out of touch in the past few weeks but I’ll write about the events going on in my life, in a soon to be published post.  However, right now I have to write about the events of my lunch break today.

I have one irrational fear, which has developed over the last few years.  This is not something most people would even think about nor worry about, but I do, daily.  I work in a beautiful area right in the Downtown Charleston Historic District.  I feel very fortunate to drive by Rainbow Row every day, to stumble down Chalmers Street on the cobblestone and best of all smell the Confederate Jasmine when it’s in full bloom.  All day long dozens of horse carriages go right past my office window.  I love to listen to the drivers tell their ridiculous and sometimes made up stories.  Seeing these carriages everyday reminds me of one thing and one thing only.  Those horses are disgusting; it stinks of horse piss and manure all year and in the summer, ugh!! Gross.

My fear? To be standing on the sidewalk or crossing the street and have a horse stop, piss near me and to be splashed. I avoid the horses at all cost; I will walk across the street, stop, anything to avoid this from happening. Furthermore, I will NEVER step in standing water downtown, NEVER. I guarantee you it’s full of horse piss. Once on a beautiful, clear, sunny day, I watched a tourist allow his gorgeous, curly, blonde-haired, 2-year-old girl stomp in the puddle outside of my office. I stopped and stared in horror, I couldn’t say anything she was so cute! But damn if that girl didn’t end up with horse piss all over herself. I wasn’t gonna offer any information because then they would have wanted to bring that child into my office to clean her up…no freakin way! Yeah I’m a bad person.

These lovely horses and their carriages provide a quaint way to view and learn about my beloved city; they also know NO etiquette. They just piss and shit at will. They all wear the little diaper sacks so the shit goes in there, but they piss wherever they want. When they do, the driver drops a little half rubber ball on the street with flag sticking out.  The street cleaners drive around and pressure wash the spots with some sort of chemical, that smells just as bad. If you visit a city that has horse carriages and you see one of these, don’t pick it up! I’ve seen people do it “wonder what this is?”

Today in Charleston, it’s gorgeous, 80 degrees, sunny, perfect spring weather, just beautiful. So on my lunch hour I decided to go to my favorite park, sit on my favorite bench, and be quiet. I wanted to reflect on the events of my life over the past few weeks. As I was walking to the park, I was also using my phone, texting, checking email etc. I don’t know how I missed it but a carriage was stopped in the middle of the street and the driver was telling a story. I crossed the street directly in front of the carriage and started to walk parallel to the horse. All of a sudden, I heard it, the forceful splash of horse piss hitting the pavement. I panicked, jumped out of the way, and immediately started feeling my pant legs. The driver makes a lame joke ” haha we just sprung a radiator hose” and the tourist all enjoyed a great laugh at my piss panic. Let me just tell you this; if I had any, even one drop of horse piss on me, I would have needed to be admitted to a mental institution. I would have never gone back to work. But have no fear my pants were dry…this time.

Moral of the story…NEVER text and walk, it could kill you. Also, my irrational fear… is not so irrational.



Living in Brazil

All right, I’ve been a little serious with my writing lately and maybe a little depressing.  Not to worry, my life is wonderful and I’m happy for who and what I have today.  Today’s post is just a little something, to make us all laugh…I hope.

I have lived just north of Brazil for 20 plus years.  Brazil is really the only place to live anymore, and if you are still living in the forest, MOVE!  I do not care how old you are, yes Mom this includes you.  It’s gross, even for men.  Be free my friends, be free!  Besides, if you want anyone to go downtown with you, for you, to you, you better be living in Brazil.

Of course, I’m not talking about the country; I’m talking about the technique.  I have been an avid shaver for decades, a few times a week I shave up the cookie.  (This is a term I learned in pole dancing class, I will explain in another post)  You gotta get real close, this requires doing acrobatic tricks in the shower to get to those hard to reach places.  Yeah, yeah you’re going to get razor burn the first couple of times but eventually that goes away.  I don’t even think about it anymore.  NEVER UP!  ALWAYS DOWN!  Come on people, common sense.

Last summer I was taking a couple of anatomy classes and during lab, we would cut up with the instructor and some of the other girls in class.  One day my lab partner came in a little late.  She sat down and said, “Man, I’m feeling good today!”  Really?  What’s up?  “Girl I just got a Brazilian Wax and that shit is awesome.”  The professor piped in and said “Did you go to Claudia?  I’ve been going to her for years.”  She sure did!  As they told their stories, I was totally intrigued.  I had to give it a go.

I’m giving a huge shout out to Brazilian Wax by Claudia right here in Charleston.  She has several locations and they are all convenient.  Great staff and the price is right!  For $35 bucks, you can go to Brazil for weeks.  NEVER GO MORE THAN FIVE WEEKS, TRUST ME!  I went six weeks one time and I cried.  Really, I cried.  However, I still went back because the benefits are so much better than the pain.

Being an avid shaver and letting the bush grow in before your first wax was difficult to say the least.  Before you can go to Brazil, you’ve got to wait about a week and half to two weeks.  It felt so weird to have hair, yuck.  Arriving at the North Charleston location, this isn’t in the best area, I was a little skeptical but you only live once.  I walked in and it was very attractive, they had recently remodeled the inside.  I was escorted to the waxing room and told you can just lift your dress and take off your panties, lay down on the table and use this to cover up (she should have said, cover IT.)  …it was a washcloth.  Really?  Cover up?

When she came back in, the washcloth was gone in 2.2 seconds.  “Can you spread your legs and make a butterfly, feet apart” Uh…sure?  She then placed a little fan between my legs blowing a gentle breeze on my cookie, felt amazing but all I was thinking was why the hell is there a fan?  I soon found out.  It was a little uncomfortable to be lying there with my vajayjay just hanging out.  She started inspecting my hair growth kind of close; like the zoo monkeys.  “Ok,” she said, “we can do it, you have enough growth.”  Thank God, because at this point I’m not sure I would have gone back.  She went straight to work.

They use a soft wax that doesn’t require any cotton strips to rip it off, it just dries, and then they rip, hence the fan.  So she starts to apply this green wax to my hoo hoo.  Damn that shit is hot!  I was beginning to completely understand the fan now.  They are not afraid to touch your stuff either.  She waited a few moments and she looked at me and said “ready?”  Ok, HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!  I look down and see itty-bitty spots of blood…seriously blood!  Not a lot and not all over, apparently I had a few deep “hairs” this proceeded for about 30 minutes with some tweezing etc.  I felt like a buttered english muffin because she got all the nooks and crannies.  She finally said, “Ok all done, roll over” Huh?  “Roll over” uh, ok?  I roll over, fan still between my legs, bare ass showing.  She said, “Ok need your help now” Uh huh?  “What do you need me to do?”  “Spread your legs, hold your cheeks, and spread ‘em!”  Alrighty then.  When the hot wax hits that most delicate place, it’s a little warm and a very odd feeling.  Forget that there is a woman staring at your bunghole.  I said, “Wow, doesn’t even bother you does it?”  “No I’ve seen thousands, it’s just a job.”  Uh huh, ok, rip, rip… surprisingly that part didn’t hurt, weird right?  “All done, you can flip back over.”  She hands me the washcloth to cover up in case I’m feeling a little modest at this point.  What do I need that for, is there anything you haven’t seen?

This is what I will say; it feels pretty freaking amazing afterward, totally worth the pain and humiliation.  Once I starting going regularly, I no longer cared about some woman touching my cookie and removing the hair from my arsehole. The more you go the less it hurts too.  During the winter, I did go back to shaving but I’ve made my appointment to get my summer smooth back.

Try it you’ll like it…so will he or she.



Where There Is Smoke There Is Fire

I find it completely ironic that this experiment began because my friends and I decided (all of them living vicariously through me) that I needed to really start dating.  I agreed that I would let my girlfriends write my online dating profile, since they know me best.  I would then write about my experiences going out etc…  However, as we have all experienced the best laid plans can get unexpectedly derailed.  Sometimes it’s a train wreck and sometimes it’s a surprise destination.

Lucky for me and hopefully lucky for HD he acted before we did and he turned into the first post.  As it turns out my first date with HD has turned into three, four, five… I’m not sure anymore.  All of our time together has been just as sweet, just as intimate, and just as hot as the first. Wouldn’t you know?

This of course has halted my online dating profile plans.  I’m one who likes to see where something leads before continuing to date another.  Besides, he’s totally hot with a rocking body (I mean not that I would know or anything). I know there are people out there that are serial first daters or date several people at once but that’s not me.  I’m going to enjoy the ride and see where it takes me. I’ll let you come along for most of it but gotta keep some of it private (YES!  I just said that).  Let’s just say I think my rabbit is going to get lonely.

HD and I had a quick date on Sunday evening, a nice dinner, and some great conversation.  He picked me up on the motorcycle and we headed to a great spot close to my home, 17 North.  It was chilly but we opted to sit at the outside bar and have dinner completely alone, no one else would be crazy enough to sit outside in the cold.  They have heaters around the bar and the fire pit was directly behind us, it was actually really nice and gave us an excuse to keep touching.

We had that conversation.  You know the one where you divulge your past relationship mistakes, failures and heartbreaks.  I’m always a little leery to share my story, I have a history, a past that I can’t escape, but what I can say?  All of my experiences have made me who I am today.  The experiences that I’ve had or the situations I’ve put myself in will keep me from being there again.  It was nice that he has a history and a past too; some that he’s not proud of, just like me.  We talked about our beliefs in love, marriage, religion and kids, pretty intense for early in a dating experience but we are both older and why allow yourself to become involved with someone you don’t share common views.

I didn’t feel any judgment from him, which is one of the first things I look for, drives me crazy.  I don’t tolerate people who judge my past, or my friends, or anyone especially when they’ve never walked in their shoes.  I guess I’ve just learned that everyone has a story that makes them unique and you can learn something from anyone if you try.  It may be completely useless information but it’s something.

After our dinner, we moved to the benches near the fire, we got close and continued our conversation.  As all my friends will tell you, I look for things I don’t like in men, any excuse.  He’s too tall, too short, kids are too young, blah blah blah.  I just can’t find anything.  I can’t complain, well except for that pesky no helmet thing.  His choice, who am I to judge?

There are few things better than having a guy drop you off at home knowing that neither of you wants it to end; standing in the driveway kissing, starting to walk away, and going back because you just have to have one more kiss. I couldn’t help myself I said, “You’re a great surprise.”  His response “Thanks for giving me a chance.”  There is definitely smoke, just need to fan the flames.  The night ended with a text from him that said, “Wanted to make out more though.”



Finding My Little g Spot

I love football. It has become a big part of my life over the past thirteen years. I remember as a child on Sundays when the game was on, it meant that you couldn’t watch anything else because Dad would be sleeping on the sofa. But thirteen years ago it began to change, my future husband, Zed, was obsessed with all things football but especially the Steelers, recording games all on VHS tape, making bets and trying to watch as many games as possible. It became part of me too.

In football everything hinges on ten yards, just ten small yards can change the course of a game. Gives you another chance to achieve your goal or can send your team to defeat and turn your once promising season into the end. Ten yards changed my life too. Do you know how far ten yards is? It’s thirty feet, thirty feet took my husband’s life on August 2nd, 2009 and changed my life forever. I became a widow at 39.

Welcome to my Little g Spot. I’m glad you decided to read a little, even if it’s only once but I hope you choose to follow along on my crazy ride. I’ve been threatening for a long time to start a blog about my funny experiences dating as a widowed mother of three teenagers. Only problem, it isn’t always funny, the emotions and difficulties that come with transitioning from having the life I once knew to the one I have now has been gut wrenching. I wish that I was one of those people who did it well with grace and class but I’m not.

So here is what you’ll get, I promise at times it will be wildly funny, I always have a story. There will be cursing, sex, alcohol and bad behavior but there will also be moments of sadness and tears. You may feel empathy or maybe even pity for me. But at the end of the day I just hope to find myself. Best case scenario I hope that in someway and at some point the look into my very small world gives someone else a smile or helps them through a dark spot in their own life. Or at the least be glad you’re not me.

The topics will mostly revolve around my friends and dating but will also include my kids, weight, depression and financial difficulties and triumphs. So a little randomness to get me through the day. narcissistic? Yup, blame Oprah. She made us all look at ourselves and share it with the world…blah blah blah. I just want true happiness and peace for the life I have now, don’t have it yet but I’m still searching.