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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Christmas dinner turkey

The Plumber came over for Christmas, and other stories.

I write this from a country pub on the same property as the small cottage I’ve booked for myself the next two nights. It’s the kind of cottage I should be sharing with a lover or boyfriend. Fireplace, king bed, outdoor spa, indoor soaker tub, fluffy white bathrobes. But despite three men asking if they can join me, I’m staying here solo. Christmas dinner is over and my house (and I) have fully recovered.

I’m here to write. But what I’ve done so far is eat fish tacos, drink a large glass of local Chardonnay, unsuccessfully try to figure out how to import my posts into Scrivener, flirt with my hot bartender, talk to the adorable young couple next to me, and give the female some perspective on her parent’s divorce this summer, after 37 years of marriage. She was bereft that her Mom is already dating someone, who showed up for Christmas dinner.  Continue reading

The perfect booty call: Lewis

Last Friday, I came home in the evening from some international work travel. It was one of those trips where I leave one afternoon, stay overnight, have an intense work day, then fly home. A booty call was not what I was hoping for.

I had made plans to see a girlfriend that night and canceled. I was exhausted emotionally and physically and wanted to cocoon in my own house.

Dan (the plumber) and I had earlier discussed I could possibly see him after I’d seen my girlfriend. I texted to tell him I’d canceled those plans and why, and if he wanted to come over and hang out he’d be welcome. Continue reading

Dan the Plumber still lives

If you’ve been monitoring my “men in the mix” page you’ll have seen that Dan the plumber is still around. He is an odd duck in a very cute package.

He texts me every morning and every night. He constantly asks what I’m doing – to an annoying degree. We haven’t had sex in weeks. But did I mention he’s cute?

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Finding peace in my analytical mind.

Even when I’m super busy with work like I am right now, my brain seems to whirr in the background, trying to analyze and solve puzzles.

For example, was it really possible a reader who I don’t know in real life, could have known a man I was dating and recognized him from my writing?

Well, the answer is YES. And now I know who. Continue reading

I am vulnerable and off-kilter

In the absence of knowing exactly how I was “outed”, I feel extraordinarily vulnerable. I’ve contemplated several times this week making my blog private for a while, so I can figure out what to do.

It doesn’t help to see a comment in my spam filter which says (caps theirs): “WHEN YOU FUCK OTHER WOMENS HUSBANDS BEHIND THEIR BACKS EXPECT YOUR RELATIONSHIPS TO GET FUCKED WITH TOO”

Thanks to the reader who chose the username “YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID” to leave that gem for me.  Continue reading

John starts on a high note, then descends…

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A reminder, you can always check out my “men in the mix” page to get the latest on the men I’m writing about. It’s all spoilers, all the time!

John drove me home, we parked his car and I invited him into my house. In my kitchen, as I poured him a drink, he went for it. Arms around me, mouth on the back of my neck, pushing me up against my kitchen counter.

I discovered this man in his late 50s had the libido of a 20-year-old. We got pretty heated on my main floor and I decided what the hell, I’d take him upstairs.  Continue reading

John, the other poet.

I’m not too sure what to do with John. If I’d been less busy the past 10 days, I could have written many posts about him already. There’s potential – but for what exactly, I haven’t figured out. Writing about it will help crystallize my thoughts.

Based on his profile, I wasn’t expecting much from our first date. We had a 98% match on OK Cupid, which was something. His opening message was solid and he had some very deep questions to ask me (“are you ready for love?”) which were surprising and I presumed demonstrated depth of character. Continue reading

I’m recovering. Kinda.

This is going to be short. It’s late at night, I’ve had too much red wine, I’m tired, sad, and my gut hurts.

I had my gallbladder out a week ago. Those of you who follow me on Instagram would know, but I didn’t write about it. I’ve been recovering and just went back into the office today. I experienced a common after-effect of surgery – depression – which thankfully didn’t last but was disconcerting regardless.

The sadness lingers but yesterday I could finally feel it starting to lift. My middle still hurts but each day is an improvement. Bruce has been in touch most days to send me wishes that I’m feeling better. It comforts me he’s been in touch – perhaps he wasn’t lying about it not being me. He’s been consistent in that he’s not calling, not having long conversations. Which is fine. Continue reading