The Tool

I'm utilizing a tool that Pool Boy taught me. It's called, quick change the subject and start a new post so that we can get on with the business of forgetting the last post.

After reading a poem on "New York Woman's" blog about being single, which was heartbreaking by the way, I started thinking about the men in my life. I'm having a midlife crisis. (I dare you to read her poem and not cry, if you have been single for a long time. )

Not you Pool Boy. It's for women. Oh and, tricks are for kids. That's all the wisdom I have tonight.

I wanted to survey the men of my past. The one's I have loved. For me, that means the men I have been intimate with. I know what you're going to say; "You didn't love Evil Surfer Dude". But you're wrong. I was well on the road. It's old fashioned. You don't have to believe me. But it was true for me. I can count the men I have been intimate with on one hand.

Maybe that's alot in some circles. Some might remark, "Yea, maybe that's a good number if I you were in High School".

I looked, searched to find the common element. What is "my type" anyway?

I have no type. This is what I concluded. I have no idea what I am looking for, who I am or what I want. I have no idea whatsoever. Tonight I'm gonna think about it.

No I'm not. Who am I kidding?

Maybe I'll marry Evil Surfer Dude. Perhaps I like to suffer. I've written funny short stories when I was in bad relationships. It amuses me. (But then my cousin called to "confess her sins". Her "sin" is usually a man she just slept with. For some reason this adorable young lady thinks I'm priest. ) I always absolve her of her sins. Then call her a whore. We laugh like school girls.

It's important to know who you are. I'm edgy. You'll never see me sitting in a field of daisy's wearing an apron. I can yearn for this alternate existance, it doesn't make it who I am or what I want.

My guy will get that. Oh my God, my guy is "The Producer".