funerals and wild women

Funerals and Wild Women.

As predicted, my Friday night also didn’t work out as expected. When the contractor made plans with me, he gave me a heads up that depending on his work schedule it may not pan out. Having dated several contractors, I’m now pretty knowledgeable about their work life restrictions, so didn’t expect to see him.

At least he didn’t ghost this time. A long text arrived early Friday morning that he had to work late that night and all weekend. It was no problem. Ann 2.1 welcomes time to write.

I worked late Friday night and left the office only when my stomach told me I should. Zane once asked when I “got off work” and I had to explain it simply doesn’t happen that way for me. I work until what I need to get done is done, but I also often control the schedule and can choose to leave at 4 pm on a Friday and do the rest over the weekend. But not this Friday.

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I'm no Marilyn, but I will write anyway

Readers, I need your help.

I’ve decided to write my book. Enough people who didn’t want to get into my pants told me I should, so I figured I’d put my fear of failure aside and go for it. What do I really have to lose?

I know nothing about publishing, so I’m asking friends for information and guidance. A successful author said to me, “write the book people want to read, not the one you want to write,” which gave me pause. I’m not sure I know what people want to read.

Which is where I’d like your input.

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Trying to relax with Bruce.

Thankfully, it wasn’t over after sex with Bruce on the second date. We exchanged a few texts as he drove home – an almost hour-long drive – and he called me “sweetie” when he texted goodnight. But I still had dating anxiety.

The next morning I sent a good morning text and we had a brief exchange. Mid-morning he checked in to say he hoped I was having a good day. We had another exchange at the end of the day. All consistent with the days prior.

That night I was at a sporting event with a close friend. A man who reminds me a bit of Bruce, actually, and Bruce and I bantered off and on throughout the game. I asked whether he was used to a woman squirting since he seemed pretty chill about it. Continue reading

How long before I say its over?

My Dad asked me how long it takes for me to know someone isn’t right for me, how long to assess relationship compatibility? A pretty good question, frankly.

I talked about how I know within minutes how good the intellectual chemistry is with someone. On the positive extreme there was Tony and now Jack. We have that elusive quick-witted and humorous banter. On the other extreme are men with whom the conversation is forced or dull. I can make a conversation happen with anyone, but I don’t want to have to do all the work.

It’s similar with physical chemistry. The very good and very bad are sussed out during the first kiss. I also know whether any first-time sex awkwardness is due to needing to learn each other, versus terrible physical chemistry. Continue reading

dating Jack

Starting to settle in: dating Jack

The conversations with Jack are starting to meld together. It’s the problem when living my life outpaces my ability to write about it. I’m going to try to get caught up with this post with our dating status.

We had the kind of fourth date made necessary by single parentdom: a late night visit. It was a three-act play similar to the third date: a drink on my couch with lots of conversation, moving to my bedroom for some good sex, and then talking far too late into the wee hours of the morning.

This time, instead of waiting for me to suggest it, he asked to take me upstairs. I liked it.  Continue reading

International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia

I rarely get political here, but today I make an exception, since it’s the international day against homophobia and transphobia. That this is still rampant in otherwise “evolved” societies makes me very angry.

It’s easy to fear and hate from behind the comfort of our phone screens, and easy to misunderstand when we have no personal experience with the issues. But that’s no excuse for hatred, ignorance, and bigotry. Ask questions. Educate yourself. Practice empathy.

As a white cisgender woman, I have incredible privilege. I don’t know what it’s like to face discrimination daily. To know my body doesn’t reflect the gender I feel inside. To worry about being killed for who I have sex with or love.

But it doesn’t mean I won’t support my friends and colleagues and all the people out there I don’t know who face this every day.

Ann Continue reading

Who needs a man?

My toilets have been acting up.

Many months ago, the one in Liam’s bathroom started to sigh when it flushed. Literally sounded like a high pitched human sigh. But it still worked so we just laughed about it, but I occasionally gave it a backwards glance when leaving to make sure there were no ghosts in the room.

Then there was drama of my toilet overflowing – which resulted in not only water damage to the living room ceiling below, but to my smoke detector, which decided to go insane when filled with water. It cycled through every sound it could make. My nanny was too panicked and too short to reach to turn it off. The net result was a freaked out nanny and a child scared to flush a toilet 🙄.

Then the main floor toilet started acting up. It got really loud every time it flushed, perhaps in protest of the treatment of its kin. Continue reading

He is my protector and I am his muse

I’m filled with words but they’ve stayed in my head so far. They are no good to anyone there. The inability to talk about the aftermath of a relationship gone wrong is very difficult. To be clear, I’m able to write, but I promised I wouldn’t. It’s the first time I ever agreed to be muzzled but when I fear for my reputation and my safety, it wasn’t a hill I was going to die on.

There’s a lot more to talk about than Tony, but right now I want to talk about him.

I’ve seen a lot of him lately. On a particularly difficult night, after receiving some threats I texted and called him and asked if I could stay with him. I thought I’d be fine, but alone in my house late at night, I realized I wasn’t. Continue reading

I have whiskers.

Do you remember my lovely-then-momentarily-embarrassing story about The Comedian? Well, go back and read it.

Yeah. That.

I’m ONLY 42. Why has my body decided I need to have a chin hair? What good does this do?

Well, earlier this week I spotted another hair – who am I kidding, it would more realistically and less kindly be called a whisker – coming out of my cheek. Continue reading