I finally made it back from Florida. Just in the nick of time, too. There is a tropical storm where I was staying and there is all rain and no sunshine. That would make for a not-so-fun stay in Florida. All I could think about the last day I was there was about the house across the lake from my aunt’s house that rents for $20k a week. Yeah, you read that right twenty thousand dollars. It’s a big house. You could probably easily fit 20 people in it at $1000 a pop, but still a lot of money to pay to sit in that house for a week of tropical storms. Or maybe I just think that. My ride was rainy pretty much all the way home and my GPS was a dickhole. I told my cousin I would stop by his house on my way home. It was four hours to his house. Five hours to mine from his…. if my Waze would have taken me on an interstate, but it did not. Apparently, my navigational app thought I wanted to take the scenic route and drive through every back road and “holler’ on the way. (Note: Hollow, a small valley, as commonly pronounced in Appalachia as “holler”). So my four hour drive took five hours. It really seems to be the way of things when I travel. I’m not sure if I am just easily distracted by taking pictures or if I am abducted by aliens and probed for an hour before being set back out on my journey. Either way, I never get anywhere at the time my GPS originally says. I always lose an hour somewhere. On a stranger note than abduction, as I was driving, I passed a pasture full of cows. As I was coming up on it, I noticed that almost all the cows had a white feed bag or something hanging from it’s grazing neck. I’ve seen a lot of cows in my day. I mean, I haven’t seen enough to know whether a cow is a meat cow or a milk cow, but I’ve seen cows and never have I seen a cow with a white bag hanging off it’s neck. It looked gourd shaped from where I was. As I got closer, I looked even harder. When I got close enough to see, it wasn’t a bag hanging from it’s neck at all. It was a bunch of cows eating with, apparently, their pet geese. Almost every cow had a goose next to it. Cow, goose, cow, goose, cow, goose. It was such a crazy sight, by time I realized what it was, it was too late for me to double back and take a picture. Now I feel like you are as likely to believe that the cows and geese were chilling as you are to believe that I’m abducted by aliens every, single time I travel, but one of those things are definitely true.
Author: @rouletteweekend
wrote The Nora Tree, super-mom, singer/stand up comedian in private, social media addict, blogger, music junkie, gardening activist, dating failure, dog nanny/rescuer, warrior
One Last Fling and a Poem
I just got all packed up and ready to leave. I’m getting out of here later than I planned because I had one last hurrah last night. As it turns out, you can have more than one sexual soul mate. As it also turns out, all of mine live out of town. Which is probably for the best, because I would get absolutely nothing accomplished if they were closer. My aunt went to bed fairly early last night and someone I met right when I got here text me. He had pretty much been out of town since the day after we met when I got here. So he got in the day before I was leaving. I wasn’t going to see him. I was going to be good and just go to sleep and head out early, but I have been on this “do what makes you happy” path for a while now and I just though, you know what would make me happy? An orgasm. And so, I snuck out like a fourteen year old. The only difference was I sent my aunt a text to tell her I was going out and where I was going. Not that I thought he was going to kill me or anything, but just so she wouldn’t be worried. She was worried anyway. After all, she’s my aunt. My mother’s sister. Basically, another mother. So I get it. I’m in a place where I know nobody and I’m getting ready to go to a sleepover, but in my defense, I had been talking to him for two weeks and we had already spent a little time together in person. Either way, all’s well that ends well. I went to the sleepover and was not disappointed, which was really exactly what I needed before this drive. A nice relaxing body massage. Basically I’m still in my happy place. My aunt, not so much. She thinks I shouldn’t sleep around. That I should find one person and do that. She said I have so much to offer, which I do not deny. It’s just, I’m happy with me. I’m happy doing whatever I want. Like I said yesterday, if I find something amazing, I’ll take it, but in my experience, it’s few and far between. So I just find people I like to be around and do that. And if it leads to sex, awesome and if it doesn’t that’s awesome, too. But I’ll be home in 8 hours or so and back to my regular life which rarely involves casual sex…. or sex of any kind lately and I’m ok with that. Plus, making new friends sparks my creativity. So here’s a poem I wrote in honor of last night…..
Fling
Let’s pretend we love each other until it’s time to leave each other
Let’s let our hands explore each other like the blind with a new Braille book.
Let’s taste each other for the first time over and over again until the sun comes up and we have memorized every flavor
Let’s pretend we’ve known each other for more than seven days and tomorrow isn’t the one we have to use to say goodbye
Let’s have one last night together igniting each other’s fires and sharing dirty secrets and creating inside jokes that we can laugh at across state lines and phone lines
Let’s promise each other this is not goodbye even if we are both lying
Let’s just enjoy lying in each other’s arms for one more night until our lives carry us back to the directions that we came.
Cool Cats and the Elusive Mr. Perfect
By the time this post posts, I will probably be in my car heading back home to good ole Knoxville, TN from Florida. It’s been a great two weeks. Got to hang out with some cool cats. Literally, I was hanging with cats. Sweet, long haired, spoiled cats. And a few men, but you’ve read all about that. I didn’t get to see Chris, my sexual soul mate, before I left. Thank God a person can have more than one soul mate. Forever optimistic. Since I’ve been here in Florida, I have had an overwhelming number of men show interest in me. And not just here. A few at home. One from my past. And another, apparently from my future if I’m catching what he’s throwing. I guess now would be the perfect time to pick one and settle down, but I’m just starting to have fun again so I don’t really see that on the menu anytime soon.
Unless I happen to run into the elusive Mr. Perfect, who will basically have to not require that I “settle down.” He will just have to meet me at my crazy fun level. He’ll have to be handsome. Maybe tall. At least taller than me or eye level. Funny. Exciting. Like to dance even if he’s not good at it, but if I’m building the perfect dude, he’ll be good at it. Like to listen to my stupid love poems about him and my stupid on the spot made up poems about random strangers. He’ll also have to want to watch the stupid, funny movies I love. He’ll be good in bed, of course. Or at least willing to learn how I like my sex…. and my tea and my eggs. He’ll be willing to take Salsa and Zouk dancing classes with me or not get mad when I take them alone and end up dancing with a gorgeous single Spaniard. He will cook for me and let me bake for him. He won’t look at me crazy when I ask him to come shower with me just to wash my hair. He won’t want to live with me… maybe ever. And if he does want to cohabitate, he will understand that, in my head, that means buying a duplex and just being neighbors. Did I mention he has to be funny? Like hilarious funny. And a good conversationalist. And easy to talk to. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings any if he had tattoos and/ or dreadlocks. It’d be even better if he was a Marley (Kymani specifically), but I’m not going to push my luck. I got to meet him, I missed my opportunity to sweep him off his feet. Moving on. And since it seems there may be nobody that fits that bill, I’m probably just going to have to piece together 12 random men to please one (not so) simple girl.
I know, I know, “Angie, you’re never going to find the perfect guy, slutting it up.” Well, I say, there are no perfect guys so why not have fun with all the imperfect ones?
The Tax Man and a D!ck Pic Collage
Remember when I went to Ohio and then drove home only to head right back out for a poetry slam in Atlanta? I may have only touched on it briefly, but that happened almost a month ago. While I was in Atlanta, I got the notion to download Tinder. I know I mentioned that, because I used it at the beach for a minute, too, before deleting it again. As with the beach, I was only on Tinder for a day or so. Long enough to swipe right on a handful of guys along I-75 between Atlanta and Knoxville. I talked to a few before deleting the app. I always delete the app and my profile. One guy asked for my number, so I gave it to him. And honestly, it was really my friend the Poet who talked me out of that Tinder game in Atl. He insisted that all or most of the dudes in Atlanta were on the married and/or gay on the down low and/or had AIDS. I don’t need that kind of drama in my life. So we played this fun game of “gay with AIDS, Tinder Version” and he scared me and scarred me enough to not deal with Tinder Atlanta. Except for the one guy who asked for my number. The tax man. I had my friend the poet agree to tell me that he looked perfectly straight and AIDS-free, not that you can tell, but, he’s a good friend and was humoring me. So, anyway, that was almost a month ago. Three weeks and some change, I guess. I also guess if I was going to describe the tax man, I’d probably just tell you to imagine any tax man and/or engineer type and you’d have this guy. Which is what I thought at first. I just thought he was some nerdy tax dude. He is kind of, I guess, but he’s also funny and sweet. He has literally sent me a good morning text every day since we started talking, except for a few days where he was out of the country. Also, I mentioned my favorite movie to him one night, and he watched it as soon as he got home. And texted me the funny lines while he was watching, which kind of melted my heart. Also, he’s pretty much one of the only guys who wasn’t hell bent on sending me a dick pic. Why do guys insist on sending dick pics, unsolicited dick pics? I mean, if I ask for one, which I’ve been known to do a time or two, then fine, but if I just met you an hour ago and gave you my number because you asked and then you’re sending me pictures of your huge (or really average) dick, I don’t want a thing to do with that. I get it. I’d be proud, too if I had a huge dick, but easy does it, man. I’ve received so many dick pics over the last few months, I could make a dick collage (stay tuned for 365 days of dicks, coming soon). Speaking of dick collages. I was on craigslist the other day. I was bored, sue me. It’s my go to. I can’t be left to my own devices at times. I think I’ve told you about my craigslist addiction, but if you didn’t read that blog (it was a while ago), it goes a little something like this: go to craigslist, look at free stuff, creative gigs, missed connections (just in case someone is looking for me) and finally casual encounters. Rarely, do I ever see anything that would even make me want to reply, especially since that whole married man incident. I also think most men on craigslist are married. If they were single, they’d be on Tinder or Plenty of Fish, right? But I did run across two relatively interesting ads with only pictures of dicks. Ladies, if you are married, you might want to check out the casual encounters section of your local craigslist. Your guy’s face won’t be there, but his dick may be. I had a friend tell me that she wouldn’t be able to pick her husband’s dick out on craigslist and I begged to differ. If you can’t pick your dude’s dick out of a lineup, you aren’t fucking him enough and he probably really is on craigslist. Anyway, so the two guys I found on there just looking to hangout and hookup turned out to both be married or married-ish…. Surprise!! I may be a little loose in the hips sometimes, but married men is where I draw the line. Most of the time. There is one I’d probably risk the bad karma for, but that’s not likely to happen so we don’t even need to think about crossing that bridge just yet. There’s plenty of single men around for now. If they all turn gay or get married, then I will have to re-prioritize if I don’t find my Mr. Right by then, but for now, I’ll just continue loving all the wrong ones.
Return to Pandora***
It’s been a rainy couple of days in the panhandle. I’ve met a few men, online and in person, but only one worth mentioning (twice). So I saw my sexual soulmate again last night. Have you ever met anyone who just had a great face and eyes like tequila (they make your clothes fall off)? That’s this guy. And he’s smart, funny. He can hold a conversation that doesn’t start off with “nice tits.” He’s sexy. And hairy, which is not usually my thing, but it’s kind of my thing with him. I just like rubbing him. And other stuff which I shall not go into. Unless you want me to….. just kidding. I know it’s a house divided there. And did I mention his face? He’s super handsome. Anyway, we got together last night and had a couple drinks, watched part of a movie and then got down to doing what we both seem to be really good at. Unlike the last time, it wasn’t an all night thing as he had to go to work today. Last time I saw him, he was off the next day and we were literally up all night. I’m also pretty sure he does some sort of voodoo witch craft, because all I want to do is touch him and lick him and do what some may consider to be dirty, dirty things to him. I just consider them loving gestures. I basically want to loving gesture him all over…..all the time. I reiterate, I can totally see why he has girls going crazy. I’m ten years older than him. I consider myself “experienced.” And, let’s just say, I’m saving the details for my next erotica novel, but he’s amazing.
In hindsight, it could just be that I’ve serial dated selfish pricks over the last three years when I’ve attempted dating at all. Maybe there are all kinds of giving lovers out there that I don’t know about? Maybe I should do a poll. But who would I ask? I think sex is subjective. Like fashion. What I think is a good lover may be the next girl’s boring. And all men think they are great lovers. You never hear a dude tell you, “hey, let’s have sex. It’ll be really good for me, but mediocre at best for you. Just being honest, but I’ll bring pizza to make up for it.” That never happens. I think the problem in sexual relationships is that people don’t really want to talk about sex. They just want to do it. I want to make sure my guy knows what I like, what I don’t like, and I want to make sure I know those things about him, too. Especially if it may only be a one or two time thing. I mean, if you are together and married, you can always have that conversation to make things better, but if you are just single and fucking around, don’t you want to just lay all the cards out on the table so everybody is happy when they part ways in the morning? I do. Maybe I’m weird. I kind of think it makes me pretty awesome though. I’ll ask team Chris what he thinks about it. only have four more days here and then I’m heading home, I’m hoping to see him at least one more time for one more Bell Biv Devoe-ing. That means one more “smack it up, flip it, rub it down….oh nooooo.” Just in case you couldn’t put two and two together on that.
Crash and (sun)Burn
I got my first sunburn since I’ve been at the beach. I’ve been super careful and made sure I’ve always had on sunscreen. SPF 30. All over. But, this morning as I was laying on the beach too scared to paddle out into the gulf at 9:30 am, it was cloudy and overcast and although I know that’s when burns happen, I was only out for a couple hours. I knew I was burnt when I went back out later and was slathering myself with sunblock and my legs were on fire. It didn’t stop me from going back out. Plus it was like 7pm. I don’t know if you can even still tan let alone burn at 7pm. I do know that I am paying for my mistake though. And my legs were so dry feeling, I searched all over for some lotion and the only thing I could find was some cinnamon and pine hand lotion. Needless to say, I currently smell exactly like Christmas. I’m kind of feeling nostalgic. Also, I got the whole “let me screw my way through Florida” thing out of my system. Not that I did or was planning on it. I guess I’m just always surprised that no matter where I go, all the guys are the same. Maybe because I keep finding them on Tinder (insert laughing/crying emoji here). I guess even though I really do love being single and doing whatever I want, sometimes I feel like life would be so much better if I could do whatever I want next to someone who wants to do the same things and also loves me more than grilled cheese and chipotle tomato soup.
Later on, when I got super brave and paddled out into the gulf (you may have seen the video on facebook), that’s kind of what I was thinking about. Not in a woe is me kind of way, but more so in a wouldn’t it be awesome if you had someone in your life who loves and appreciates the same things you do? kind of way. I know these things take time and I’m not going to find it by having one night stands….or two night stands or will I? Hell, maybe I’ll never find it. Maybe I’ll just continue to make friends (who are really good in bed) that never turn into anything more. Then, on my paddle back into shore, I was really happy that I was alone when I hit a wave the wrong way and instead of surfing my way back to the shore, which I had done before, I ended up toppling over and littering the sea with two bottles of simple truth water that I was unable to recover because they most likely sunk. I did recover my shoes and luckily my phone in the waterproof case I borrowed. And there was not very many people on the beach staring at me, although, I’m fairly certain one of the few who was there, did, in fact, take a video of the splashout. Maybe look for it on YouTube.
Also, just to clarify, I haven’t really been sleeping my way through Florida. Just one person in one part of Florida. Home of #teamchris. Who incidentally, I am getting ready to go see. It’s more like a summer fling. If summer was only seven days long. Maybe there will be gory details. Maybe there won’t, but if either of my future husbands are reading this, you may want to skip tomorrow’s blog (it will likely include ***). You’ve been warned.
My daughter is super happy with the idea of me having numerous husbands under the stipulation that they are all from different nationalities, because…….food. So maybe I’ll get to work on that, but for now, I’m pretty enamored right here in the panhandle.
My Imminent Wedding
I kayaked to the beach this morning. I had high hopes of kayaking out into the gulf, but the wind was blowing and the water was choppy. I know once I got out there, I would have been good. It was just the idea of getting past the break to get out there. Rather, getting in the kayak after it was waist deep. I’m not gonna lie, I was totally afraid I was not going to be able to gracefully get into the kayak. Graceful being the key word. I know I would have eventually gotten in, but not before someone got me on video looking like a damn fool and that is not the way I plan on becoming YouTube famous. So I just swam for a while and laid out to tan my white belly. And yes, I was rocking a bikini. Tanned fat looks way better than pale fat. I’m pretty sure it’s been scientifically proven. Plus, I’m not likely to see any of these people again. I know, with that kind of thinking, I could have just gotten into the kayak and attempted to tame the waves, but no, like I said, those people have cameras. Sunbathing is one thing, ridiculous trending video is another. If I’m going to be YouTube famous, it will be for something else…
Also, over the course of the week, I’ve been proposed to twice while in Florida. Ironically, both men live in Knoxville and proposed is a strong and inaccurate word. It’s more like I’ve been informed that I’m going to be their wife. I’m not sure if I could have two husbands or if I should just have a public jousting tournament and whoever wins, gets to have me as their wife.
Man One: Are you going to change your name?
Man Two: I’m so glad you didn’t fuck Marky Mark. Please don’t fuck anyone else until we are married.
Me: Ummmmm……..o…….k……….????
But seriously, I don’t know why all of a sudden I’ve become such a hot commodity. Or maybe, it was the full moon that gave people the “fuck it all” mentality to tell me how they really feel? I don’t know. I dare not speculate. I just keep assuming that they are both joking. I hope they are because if really like to marry someone I’m head over heels in love with. Call me crazy!
I think they both have psychological issues or they haven’t stalked me enough to know that I would make a terrible wife anyway. Ok, I’m joking. I wouldn’t make a terrible wife to the right person. I’d actually probably be a really awesome wife to the right person because I’m a really awesome girlfriend to all the wrong people. Either way, I’m not really looking at tying the knot with either of my Facebook friends, especially not before going on a first date.
